24th after Trinity. Remembrance Sunday. Believe it or not, I was out of bed at 9.30 this morning, an all time record for this year. I never see Sunday until noon, but it is of course Remembrance Day. Had breakfast with Mum and Dad and then watched the age-old wreath laying ceremony at the Cenotaph on the BBC. Her Majesty did her usual bit in her traditional style, and the Prince of Wales, Duke of Kent and Prince Michael deposited similar objects of mouring and the foot of that "empty, uplifted tomb". The Duchess of Kent was in the 'royal box' at the Home Office.
The Andy-Linda engagement is on everyones mind today. Linda told me last night that we should all be thinking about settling down now that she and Andy had set "the ball rolling". I think Christine White and Stuart may well be next to get hitched, but as far as the Rhodes family is concerned I cannot hear wedding bells for at least a couple of years yet._______.I am happy for them both, and my wishes for many years of happiness go with them.
I linger about waiting for Carole to ring me all day. By 7pm I'm giving up hope but at 7.45 she rings saying the relations have kept her from the phone all day.
I meet her at 8.20 and we nip into the Hare which is completely dead. I'm sick of the place and after half an hour we leave. She is such fun, and we walk to Menston village, playing in the leaves on the way and acting about on the roundabout in the park. We arrive at the Menston Arms in a state verging on mild hysteria. Why is it that we always end up screaming with laughter when we're in the open air? Inside pub lounges we are quiet as mice. After a pleasant drink in the Menston Arms we go back to the bus stop near the Hare where I get a bus at about a quarter to eleven.
Carole's birthday is looming on the horizon and I'm still no wiser about what to buy her. It's far too near Christmas for comfort really, and the thought of having to find all those presents is somewhat daunting really. The monetary aspect is OK, but my imagination does not extend to gift-buying.
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20100612
Saturday November 8, 1975
News Flash Edition: It isn't often I begin a page with news of such excitement, but what I am about to say does call for some special notice. At 8.45pm this evening I learned that Andy and Linda are engaged!
My special "news flash" editions are a rarity indeed. The engagement of Princess Anne and Mark Phillips and Christine Braithwaite finishing with Chris are the only previous times I have headed a page with such a thing and for Mr Graham and his future wife it must be a great honour.
Got up at 12.30 or so,. and lounge about in a dressing gown for an hour or so. Met Carole at the White Cross at 2.30 and we went to Bradford. Spend a pleasant couple of hours round the shops and get a belt at £1.75 from 'Miss Selfridge' of all places. One nice aspect of going out with a girl is that you can pick up nice clothes and accessories in girls' shops without people thinking it funny. (Don't worry folks - I'm no transvestite.) Home at 5.15 and leap in the bath. Wear the blue trousers I purchased about a week ago and the new belt.
Dave, Lynn, John, Sue and I walk to Maria's, and then hang about waiting for Pete, who doesn't turn up. We all, except Pete, set off for the Hare, and Dave and Lynn go to Carole's with me. In the Hare Pete flies at Sue like something not right. I could kill him after seeing him hurt my little lamb of a sister, who has never done a thing wrong in the whole of her life.
Hear Andy and Linda's news. Chris comes in with Gillian and leaves half an hour later to go "see the Queen at the Royal Albert Hall Remembrance Service" on TV. A likely tale indeed.
Linda says we should all get engaged now that she and Mr Graham have "set the ball rolling". Who knows. To the Cow & Calf until 2. A good night, but no space to report on it any further.
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My special "news flash" editions are a rarity indeed. The engagement of Princess Anne and Mark Phillips and Christine Braithwaite finishing with Chris are the only previous times I have headed a page with such a thing and for Mr Graham and his future wife it must be a great honour.
Got up at 12.30 or so,. and lounge about in a dressing gown for an hour or so. Met Carole at the White Cross at 2.30 and we went to Bradford. Spend a pleasant couple of hours round the shops and get a belt at £1.75 from 'Miss Selfridge' of all places. One nice aspect of going out with a girl is that you can pick up nice clothes and accessories in girls' shops without people thinking it funny. (Don't worry folks - I'm no transvestite.) Home at 5.15 and leap in the bath. Wear the blue trousers I purchased about a week ago and the new belt.
Dave, Lynn, John, Sue and I walk to Maria's, and then hang about waiting for Pete, who doesn't turn up. We all, except Pete, set off for the Hare, and Dave and Lynn go to Carole's with me. In the Hare Pete flies at Sue like something not right. I could kill him after seeing him hurt my little lamb of a sister, who has never done a thing wrong in the whole of her life.
Hear Andy and Linda's news. Chris comes in with Gillian and leaves half an hour later to go "see the Queen at the Royal Albert Hall Remembrance Service" on TV. A likely tale indeed.
Linda says we should all get engaged now that she and Mr Graham have "set the ball rolling". Who knows. To the Cow & Calf until 2. A good night, but no space to report on it any further.
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Friday November 7, 1975
I don't really feel like saying the usual things about the time I 'got up' or the flavour of the cheese I devoured in my sandwiches this lunchtime. To be honest, it's now 3am on the morning of November 9. I'm just back from the Cow & Calf if you must know, but I'd better say something about what happened on this date before I go off into paroxysms about other more interesting things.
Went to Carole's at 8.15. Her eye (the left one)is all bandaged up. Evidently, it swells up with migrane and is too unsightly to leave unmasked for any length of time. We go over to the Hare where she receives all the usual cracks: "where's your parrot?" and "Look at Long John Sylvia!". We have a good time and go back to her place at 11.15 where we see the end of The Avengers.
I gave Carole 2 letters. One dealing with the CB Affair. She is a darling through and through, is Carole.
Reflections: Am I lagging behind? Have I missed the bus, as it were? Friends getting engaged and driving around in cars whilst I plod along with public transport and a gorgeous girlfriend who won't stay with me for much longer when she gives up hope of ever finding happiness with a self-seeking, arrogant, vain, callous cynic like wot I am. I know it's harsh but it's all so true. Something must be done I know, but what? OK, I'm mad, but what else do you expect? Besides, you can't be all that intelligent if you're wasting your time reading a load of clapped-out rubbish like this. Haven't you anything better to do? For God's sake, pull yourself together. Don't give up just because I have!!!
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Went to Carole's at 8.15. Her eye (the left one)is all bandaged up. Evidently, it swells up with migrane and is too unsightly to leave unmasked for any length of time. We go over to the Hare where she receives all the usual cracks: "where's your parrot?" and "Look at Long John Sylvia!". We have a good time and go back to her place at 11.15 where we see the end of The Avengers.
I gave Carole 2 letters. One dealing with the CB Affair. She is a darling through and through, is Carole.
Reflections: Am I lagging behind? Have I missed the bus, as it were? Friends getting engaged and driving around in cars whilst I plod along with public transport and a gorgeous girlfriend who won't stay with me for much longer when she gives up hope of ever finding happiness with a self-seeking, arrogant, vain, callous cynic like wot I am. I know it's harsh but it's all so true. Something must be done I know, but what? OK, I'm mad, but what else do you expect? Besides, you can't be all that intelligent if you're wasting your time reading a load of clapped-out rubbish like this. Haven't you anything better to do? For God's sake, pull yourself together. Don't give up just because I have!!!
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Thursday November 6, 1975
A bright cold morning. Up at 7.40 and don't have time for breakfast.
I think it is something of a coincidence that Inverary Castle, Scottish home of the Duke of Argyll, is raised to the ground by a mysterious fire on Bonfire Night, the very day before Margaret Duchess of Argyll publishes her memoirs. Old Margaret has little or no affection for her step-son, the duke, and it's a known fact that she would do anything for publicity. I will discuss this affair when more details come in.
Would you believe me if I were to tell you that Franco is being kept alive on a kidney machine? Well, he is. Juan Carlos is the one I feel sorry for. If he isn't a patient man I can't see him being happy at the present time.
Thank God it's pay day. I will have to watch how I spend it this week because I think that Carole's birthday present had better come out of it. Just what I am going to get her is a revolting problem. My imagination just fizzles out when it comes to birthdays, christmases ande christenings. She says all she would like is a solitary red rose, but I must think of something more substantial.
The traffic in Leeds at 4.30 today was like Los Angeles in the rush hour. The bus completely ignored me, and I walked all the way across town to the bus station. It was nearly 6pm when I staggered in for tea.
Mum and Dad are in stitches about Mr Monkman, who came round today to try and solve the 'BUDGIES FOR SALE' sign mystery. Evidently a car did stop on Sunday morning and a chap did enquire about blue breeders! His main reason for coming round, however, was to ask Papa to witness his will. No doubt the whole of the Monkman estate will pass to his beloved son, Tony.
Carole rings me at 8 and we talk for ten minutes or so. Seeing her tomorrow evening. Mum and Dad go to Pudsey to see the Gadsbys. John and I watch a clapped out film starring Michael Redgrave. It's quite good really - just old.
I go for my bath at 11.30.
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I think it is something of a coincidence that Inverary Castle, Scottish home of the Duke of Argyll, is raised to the ground by a mysterious fire on Bonfire Night, the very day before Margaret Duchess of Argyll publishes her memoirs. Old Margaret has little or no affection for her step-son, the duke, and it's a known fact that she would do anything for publicity. I will discuss this affair when more details come in.
Would you believe me if I were to tell you that Franco is being kept alive on a kidney machine? Well, he is. Juan Carlos is the one I feel sorry for. If he isn't a patient man I can't see him being happy at the present time.
Thank God it's pay day. I will have to watch how I spend it this week because I think that Carole's birthday present had better come out of it. Just what I am going to get her is a revolting problem. My imagination just fizzles out when it comes to birthdays, christmases ande christenings. She says all she would like is a solitary red rose, but I must think of something more substantial.
The traffic in Leeds at 4.30 today was like Los Angeles in the rush hour. The bus completely ignored me, and I walked all the way across town to the bus station. It was nearly 6pm when I staggered in for tea.
Mum and Dad are in stitches about Mr Monkman, who came round today to try and solve the 'BUDGIES FOR SALE' sign mystery. Evidently a car did stop on Sunday morning and a chap did enquire about blue breeders! His main reason for coming round, however, was to ask Papa to witness his will. No doubt the whole of the Monkman estate will pass to his beloved son, Tony.
Carole rings me at 8 and we talk for ten minutes or so. Seeing her tomorrow evening. Mum and Dad go to Pudsey to see the Gadsbys. John and I watch a clapped out film starring Michael Redgrave. It's quite good really - just old.
I go for my bath at 11.30.
-==-
Wednesday November 5, 1975
The 370th anniversary of the Gunpowder Plot. Or, the day Guy Fawkes couldn't strike a light.
I can hardly believe that it is a year ago tonight since my affair with Miss Sarah Collis reached one of its highest peaks. Don't try and tell me you've forgotten? If you have I'll be ever so hurt because it one was one of the red-letter days of last year. However, it pains me to cast my mind back to the close of that fateful night when Mick Johnson had us bundled into a taxi at 2.30 in the morning to be driven home via Southport or somewhere equally disassociated with the Yorkshire area, by a sizeable lady taxi driver.
Dad gave me a lift to Carole's at 8.15. She was wearing a poppy in her cardigan which looked attractive. I haven't seen as many about his year. The British Legion must have forgotten about it (Remembrance Day).
We walkd down to the .... wait for it ....Fox and Hounds. We don't like the place. It always reminds me of St Paul's Cathedral. Outside we are choked by the pub bonfire, and the fireworks are making one hell of a racket. Amidst all the flames, smoke and sulphur we see Christine D and Helen heading towards us. We shake them off, and five minutes later we head up towards the Hare only to be confronted by CB and Shirley. Christine tells me she failed her driving test today and I offer my condolences.
Carole and I carry on to the Hare. It seems our quest for peace, quiet and seclusion can never be because no sooner are we in the Hare when John and Maria are upon us. We stay until 10.30 and the conversation drifts to the subject of Carole's hair. Vidal Sassoon is having the honour to style it a week on Saturday, and because she's who she is, he is only going to charge her £13!
Over at the bus stop we stand withy the two Christines until they get the 33 bus. I'm home at 11.30 and though I loathe to admit it I see it is turning foggy again - or 'Jack the Ripper' weather, as Dad quaintly calls it.
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I can hardly believe that it is a year ago tonight since my affair with Miss Sarah Collis reached one of its highest peaks. Don't try and tell me you've forgotten? If you have I'll be ever so hurt because it one was one of the red-letter days of last year. However, it pains me to cast my mind back to the close of that fateful night when Mick Johnson had us bundled into a taxi at 2.30 in the morning to be driven home via Southport or somewhere equally disassociated with the Yorkshire area, by a sizeable lady taxi driver.
Dad gave me a lift to Carole's at 8.15. She was wearing a poppy in her cardigan which looked attractive. I haven't seen as many about his year. The British Legion must have forgotten about it (Remembrance Day).
We walkd down to the .... wait for it ....Fox and Hounds. We don't like the place. It always reminds me of St Paul's Cathedral. Outside we are choked by the pub bonfire, and the fireworks are making one hell of a racket. Amidst all the flames, smoke and sulphur we see Christine D and Helen heading towards us. We shake them off, and five minutes later we head up towards the Hare only to be confronted by CB and Shirley. Christine tells me she failed her driving test today and I offer my condolences.
Carole and I carry on to the Hare. It seems our quest for peace, quiet and seclusion can never be because no sooner are we in the Hare when John and Maria are upon us. We stay until 10.30 and the conversation drifts to the subject of Carole's hair. Vidal Sassoon is having the honour to style it a week on Saturday, and because she's who she is, he is only going to charge her £13!
Over at the bus stop we stand withy the two Christines until they get the 33 bus. I'm home at 11.30 and though I loathe to admit it I see it is turning foggy again - or 'Jack the Ripper' weather, as Dad quaintly calls it.
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Tuesday November 4, 1975
Out of bed quite late, and just manage to get my lift to work with Jim. Work is uneventful and I manage to get finished for about 1 o'clock. All the girls are becoming bitchy of late, and Carol J seems to be the main object of attack. Sarah is commander-in-chief of the victorious force, and her sharp tongue gives her side the moral boost it requires to succeed. (Don't I talk a load of rubbish?)
Home at 5.15 to get a letter from dear Carole. She apologises for appearing to be too possessive and says I can talk to CB for as long as I wish and she won't mind. Good of her. Bless her. She'd do anything to make me happy.________.
I have decided to stop visiting the Hare like I am doing at present. If Carole and I are going to get along happily we are going to have to have more time on our own. And strangely enough, I am happier when I am alone with her than when we are both in a crowd. It must be love, because I have never been one to desert the happy family.
June and I were always alone, but she was wary of other human beings. Anyhow, I'm sick of doing the same old things. It should be fun exploring new pubs and the un-navigated regions of deepest Yorkshire, with no one but my best girl by my side. Like Stanley, Livingstone and Edmund Hillary, I may go down in history books as the first man to conquer the Chevin Inn, or maybe the Royalty further up the road.
Carole rang at 7.30,and I spent most of the night sorting all my letters into date order. Saw a play on TV which is excellent for a change, and saw the news about eight times.
Don't think for one moment that I'm going to mention Franco because I aren't.
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Home at 5.15 to get a letter from dear Carole. She apologises for appearing to be too possessive and says I can talk to CB for as long as I wish and she won't mind. Good of her. Bless her. She'd do anything to make me happy.________.
I have decided to stop visiting the Hare like I am doing at present. If Carole and I are going to get along happily we are going to have to have more time on our own. And strangely enough, I am happier when I am alone with her than when we are both in a crowd. It must be love, because I have never been one to desert the happy family.
June and I were always alone, but she was wary of other human beings. Anyhow, I'm sick of doing the same old things. It should be fun exploring new pubs and the un-navigated regions of deepest Yorkshire, with no one but my best girl by my side. Like Stanley, Livingstone and Edmund Hillary, I may go down in history books as the first man to conquer the Chevin Inn, or maybe the Royalty further up the road.
Carole rang at 7.30,and I spent most of the night sorting all my letters into date order. Saw a play on TV which is excellent for a change, and saw the news about eight times.
Don't think for one moment that I'm going to mention Franco because I aren't.
-==-
Monday November 3, 1975
Lynn woke me at 7am to remind me it was time for work but I tell her I'm having a morning in bed to rid myself of this blasted chill or whatever it is. John isn't in, and his bed hasn't been slept in. Mum comes in at 8am on the rampage saying that she hasn't slept a wink all night worrying over John's whereabouts. Just as she's wailing and raising her eyes to the heavens John comes in and I hear him telling Lynn something about Maria's grandfather. He comes up and says that the old man was taken ill at about midnight, and he stayed with Maria whilst the so-called emergency doctor came, some two hours later. John played holy war about the doctor, a foul smelling ____. The poor old man could have died, and he was rushed to hospital by ambulance at 4am. The whole house stank of curry after the doctor had left, which made them feel quite ill. The health service is collapsing.
I kicked about the bedroom until about 10.30 and then plunged into a hot bath, which did some good to clear my head.
Looking in at the television at 12.30 I saw the Queen turning on our supplies of North Sea oil at Dyce in Scotland. The programme lasted 30 minutes or so, and probably symbolises the climb of Gt Britain to a great economy once more. The Queen was accompanied by the Duke of Edinburgh, Prince Andrew and the Prime Minister. It is obvious that the Queen and duke are fond of old Harold, and HM sat with an expression of loving affection across her face whilst the old boy made a little speech about our oil supplies.
Carole rang before lunch and said Mr & Mrs Macdonald had now returned home and learned about Grandad's illness. She also said that I'd be getting a large letter in the post tomorrow. I think she's a bit upset about 'The Braithwaite Affair'.
Watch TV this evening, but nothing of real importance is on. Need I say that General Franco is still hanging on to life with all the strength he can muster? Juan Carlos took over as head of state the other day, but no doubt he's wishing that the crown can be safely upon his head before the peasants become restless. Goodnight.
-==-
I kicked about the bedroom until about 10.30 and then plunged into a hot bath, which did some good to clear my head.
Looking in at the television at 12.30 I saw the Queen turning on our supplies of North Sea oil at Dyce in Scotland. The programme lasted 30 minutes or so, and probably symbolises the climb of Gt Britain to a great economy once more. The Queen was accompanied by the Duke of Edinburgh, Prince Andrew and the Prime Minister. It is obvious that the Queen and duke are fond of old Harold, and HM sat with an expression of loving affection across her face whilst the old boy made a little speech about our oil supplies.
Carole rang before lunch and said Mr & Mrs Macdonald had now returned home and learned about Grandad's illness. She also said that I'd be getting a large letter in the post tomorrow. I think she's a bit upset about 'The Braithwaite Affair'.
Watch TV this evening, but nothing of real importance is on. Need I say that General Franco is still hanging on to life with all the strength he can muster? Juan Carlos took over as head of state the other day, but no doubt he's wishing that the crown can be safely upon his head before the peasants become restless. Goodnight.
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