Sunday August 31, 1975

14th after Trinity. Up at lunchtime again, as is traditional at weekends. Mum makes a cooked breakfast and then departs to the Commercial where she is under training for her future bar experience. John and I go down at 12.30 to be joined by Andy, who is on his own without Linda, who is of course on holiday in Torquay with Miss Carol Smith and Miss Christine White. __________. Mum looks a natural behind the bar, and Ron and Annie are really good to her. Ron even suggested that I should go down to get a bit of practice in, and he said "you might as well come here and make mistakes than make things hard for your Mum and Dad when they're in a new pub." A tremendous offer for him to make.

At 1.30 John goes off on a picnic with 'George' to Grassington, and I help collect the glasses for Mum to wash. When they call 'time' Dad and I stay behind to discuss things and we have a few drinks on the house before coming home at 3.30. Lynn and Dave are watching an old Kenneth More film and we then all dig into a salad. I have my usual Sunday afternoon sleep in the bath, and lay on the bed viewing the ceiling for half an hour or so. John doesn't return from his picnic and I make my own way to the Hare at 8.30. Andy arrives at the same time, but the turnout is unusually low. Just Andy, Christine D, and Carole, who comes straight from Norfolk at about 9 o'clock. John and 'George' do make a flying appearance, but when I say flying I mean flying. Judy, with whom I was once very close (see Diary, May 3, 1974) calls in at the Hare, but doesn't speak, and neither do I. The remaining four of us move on to the Fox in Andy's car, where we stay for the last drink. After depositing Christine at home we come back to our place for a coffee. Andy seems to think we should arrange another camping expedition before the end of September, but I fear the weather won't hold out much longer. The smell of autumn is already in the air. I sit snuggled up against Carole on the sofa. __________.Andy took her home at about 11.30 and I retired to bed.

This pub business is exciting me. The Menston Arms may well be ours before the month of September is out, and I'm building my hopes on it. However, Ron was saying it's better to get a poor pub and build it up because you can only go one way then. A pub with a good reputation is a good deal harder to retain in the same standard.

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Saturday August 30, 1975

Wake at about 11.30 and hear Mum talking with CB downstairs. Poor Mum takes these overnight visitations from my friends very well, and I'm sure no other mother in the world is more understanding.

Please don't think it odd that though I'm going out with someone Christine can still come up and stay the night. She always sleeps on a camp bed in the dining room, and the only reason why she stays in the first place is because it's impossible for her to get home after we've been to Wikis - other than by taxi that is, which is far too expensive. She leaves before I get up, and Mum and Dad drop her off in Guiseley before going on to the wedding of Philip, one of Dad's young policemen friends.

The day is cold and rainy, and after sitting about listening to the record player for over an hour Maria rings me and asks me to go round to plant the little bush I gave her the other day. I go round at 2 and receive a conducted tour of the garden of 14, Ridgeway, Tranmere Park, by Mrs Molly Macdonald, the noted Irish conversationalist and wit. I then spent an hour listening to Mrs M's childhood reminiscences which have me, 'George' and Pam Moffatt in stitches. At 5pm it's much too wet to walk home so Mr Macdonald brings me home in the car.

To the Hare & Hounds at 8.30. Dave has gone to the dogs - quite literally - to the greyhound racing in Leeds with his Dad, and the rest of the gang, including Chris, stay at the Hare until about 10.30 when we all move on to the Fox. After a chase through Ilkley looking for Martyn Cole, whose birthday it is, we all end up at the Cow & Calf. Dance ourselves to death and decide I must have danced away three and a half stones this weekend. Back to Peter Mather's place until 4.30am. Andy brings us home in style.

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Friday August 29, 1975

Friday night on the town once again. We go down to the Hare & Hounds as usual. When I say 'we' I mean me and David. Since John got possession of the Spitfire I've been excluded from his chauffeuring activities, so good old David always offers to do the honours at weekends. Carole is away for the weekend, in Norfolk visiting relatives, and so I'm free for a couple of nights. Christine beamed when she heard of it.

David and I took turns to buy rounds at the bar and I can't help being amused by David drinking port. At the mention of port I think of some bloated Horace Walpole-type figure sitting about on a Queen Anne sofa, with his gout-ridden leg reclining on a cushion. David is attracting a sizeable girth at the moment, but he just laughs off any attempts to tell him of this. Nobody can get David to go to Wikis, and even Peter Mather's offer of money is refused.

Christine B, Christine D, Peter M and I went to Wikis and CD and I danced continuously from 11.50 until 2am. I nearly died when at 1am the DJ roped Christine and I into doing the competition which consisted of blowing up a balloon until it burst - well, he told me it was a balloon, but I can assure you it wasn't. After standing on a floodlit stage inflating items of a contraceptive nature, CD and I continued to dance for another hour.Tired and shagged out I walked up Thorpe Lane with CB and CD. CB stayed the night.


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Thursday August 28, 1975

Meet Carole on the 6.30pm 55 bus and go up to Yeadon to see 'Barry Mackenzie Holds His Own' at the cinema. I saw it a month ago with David and Christine but I feel that all films starring Barry Humphries warrant a second visit. I did thoroughly enjoy it, and think Carole was quite amused, though not over the moon about it. The cinema was horribly hot and we kept getting funny looks and glares from the other film-goers when we hooted with laughter, and I can assure you that when Carole laughs she certainly makes sure everyone knows about it. Once again she excelled herself tonight and dressed as though she was going to a Buckingham Palace garden party. Everything about her it just what I like in a bird. I only hope we'll last out OK. She is a Scorpio, which does make her my type - like Sarah for instance - and I'm in constant fascination of her.

On the subject of Sarah. She departed for Corfu late tonight, and so I won't be seeing her two weeks. I have given up altogether with her. She is a darling but doesn't need me at all and I see no point in persuing someone who isn't interested in me.

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Wednesday August 27, 1975

Out with Carole to the Hare and Hounds at 8.30pm. Christine finished with Richard Wellock some ten minutes after my arrival and then told me she was horribly jealous of Carole and hates the idea of seeing us together. It's bloody ironic, isn't it? She kept saying she understood how I felt when she was going out with Gary. I just stand open mouthed, lost for words. Obviously, I don't tell Carole because I realise no love is lost between them and this item of information isn't going to improve things at all. However, I do say to CB that Carole and I are getting on tremendously and when she asks me what my feeling are for CP I say I'm very fond. At this, Christine proceeds to drink herself into a drunken state and words like 'swine' and 'cow' and 'pig' are hurled in my direction.

Carole doesn't let me see her home and insists in waiting until I'm on the bus, which is like June B all over again. Get a 33 with Christine Dibb and Christine B, and all we can get out of CB is a constant long drawn out sigh and she looks at me like an injured spaniel. To Harry Ramsden's with CD and we walk up Thorpe Lane stuffing ourselves.

Poor Christine. Are we fated to adore each other without doing anything about it?

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Tuesday August 26, 1975

I appear to have contracted a cold since coming home from sun-soaked Majorca. My throat feels like its been cut, and my head is completely blocked. Lots of people seem to be suffering from similar ailments at the moment and I'm sick and tired of standing around listening to people saying: "Oh, something's wrong when you get colds in the middle of summer." &c, &c. I absolutely refuse to believe that the weather controls, or is in any way involved, with illnesses, death, or anything else remotely connected with the human metabolism. Poppycock and balderdash.

You aren't going to believe this, but while we were away _______ began making visits to Pine Tops once again. I nearly fell over laughing when Mum told me what excuse my beloved ____ used on being asked why she hadn't communicated with us since Christmas. It was 'Oh, I've been too busy doing a lot of baking.' Actually ______ is in Highroyds suffering from a mental disorder and the whole family seems to have lost weight and seelp over it. They came at about 8 after visiting ______, and I did notice a marked difference in ____, who looked considerably thinner. ____is becoming colossal - a mixture between Tessie O'Shea and Hattie Jacques, all rolled in with Princess Mary Adelaide, Duchess of Teck.

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Monday August 25, 1975

Holiday in England, N. Ireland & Wales. Back to the office. Ugh. The fact that it's Bank Holiday Monday makes it worse because the thought of everyone staying in bed until noon whilst I struggled across a deserted town was far from pleasant.

See Sarah and Kathleen and they both agree that I'm a tremendous colour. Work until 1pm and then Kathleen lets me go. I get the 55 bus with Sarah and arrive home at about 2 o'clock. The weather is still quite warm, but I don't sit out in it when I arrive home. I've had enough after 2 weeks in Majorca and 2 full weeks lying around in the sun.

Sue is watching a rotten film starring W.C. Fields, which is cronic. I devour beans on toast, and then see a Marx Brothers film 'Duck Soup' which is hilarious in parts.
Groucho should be knighted in the New Year's Honours list. If Charlie Chaplin can be (knighted), I fail to see why Groucho can't.

No much in the news whilst I've been away. Some nutter saw fit to dig up the Headingley cricket pitch in the middle of the Test Match, which seems a bit of a silly thing to do, and the historic event to beat all other historic events is the re-union of Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton. They're going to re-marry, and at the moment they're carrying on like a pair of 16 year-olds with the first pangs of love!

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