Sunday November 16, 1975

25th after Trinity. A cold, bleak day. I normally go to Maria's when Carole is in residence therein, but because of the dog I decide to scrap this tradition once and for all.

I woke up at 9.30. My throat feeling terrible. I gargle with salt and water and then inhale salt water up my nose - a painful experience. At 10 I go for a short walk around Greenfield Avenue in the drizzle which helps my head clear slightly. Back home I glance at the Sunday papers and drink tea.

This Franco business drags on and on. Spain is now wondering whether to unplug his kidney, brain and heart machines. He could go on for years in the present state and it's not doing the Spanish government much good.

Mum and Dad went off for the afternoon at 12, and John did his usual disappearing act in the direction of Maria's. Sue and I made lunch and Carole came round at 2.30 for hers. Sue and Lynn say they like her hair, and I think she is now coming round to liking it herself. Dave brings a pile of 'Paddington Bear' books round for Carole to look at. They're written for 10 year-olds, but Carole is just getting into them.
We sit watching television all afternoon with Sue & Peter and then move onto the radio at 6pm to listen to the top 20.

Mum and Dad come back at 7pm. I thought they'd be out all evening, but they want to watch the Royal Variety Performance. Carole and I want to watch it too, and so the two of us venture to her place in order that she can tell the Dowager Mrs Phillips that she's staying at Maria's another night. I do not like her father one bit. He's almost maniacal the way he carries on. He told his only daughter that her new hair style made her 'look like an inmate of Menston Hospital' and went on to say, over swigs of tea, that she'd lost her femininity. Most cruel of him, I thought, and we are glad to get away from her place. She was upset by the things Mr Phillips had said.

We had one drink in the Hare and then came home. Dave and Lynn had bought a supply of apricot wine in and all the family (other than John & Maria of course) sat down to watch the Royal Variety Performance. A bloody awful show it was too. The only good bits were the beginning and the end when we had a view of the Queen. She looked bored to death, but very attractive in an orange evening dress. Just how she puts up with it year after year I do not know. She really should award herself the Victoria Cross for sitting through that painful pantomime year in, year out.

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Saturday November 15, 1975

In keeping with tradition I do not emerge from my slimy pit until noon. Mum and Dad came in within seconds of my return to the Lands of the Living and inform me that they have just purchased two wardrobes and a dressing table! "Spend, Spend, Spend" isn't our family motto for nothing.

Carole gives me one last ring before departing to Leeds to wave bye bye to her hair and the best part of £13. The poor darling was near to collapse with fear.

I have a horrible afternoon. Everyone is arguing and rushing around as though they're on fire. I lock myself away in the lounge with the stereo and play records. One would think that I'd started the Third World War by the outcry which erupted. Putting a record on seemed such a good idea too, and if Hitler had had the same conviction when dealing with his Jewish friends as I had when spinning a few discs, he'd have been goose-stepping through Guiseley in 1940.

Carole rang at 6.30 to say the hair people refused to perm her hair and decided to cut it instead. She only spent £8.50, but was close to tears. I tell her I'm coming round to see the finished creation, and because of the rain Dad drives me to Maria's.
I like it. She looks different, but on the whole it's an improvement. She doesn't believe me, and storms about the house in a lousy mood shouting 'how can I face my friends with hair like this?' and 'Oh God, just look at it!' I tried to reassure her, but didn't do all that well really.

Whilst waiting at the bus stop to go to the Hare Dad passes in the car and gives us a lift. Mum says Carole's hair is very nice, and reassures her better than I ever could. Buy Mum and Dad a drink and stand with Christine and Stuart. Peter M and CB, Martyn and CD make a cheery foursome, and I can't help thinking that Martyn is next on Christine's list of suitors. We shall have to wait and see.

Carole and I keep arguing and then breaking down laughing, and all the others decide to go to the Cow and Calf pub. Carole and I go with Christine and Stuart and little Shirley. John follows up with Maria. We have no sooner got settled in the pub that Peter mentions going to a disco in Skipton. I say no, and Carole agrees. He goes with CB, CD, Martyn and Shirley. We all have a few more drinks and then go back to Maria's. I succumb once again to dog-disease and it grows horribly worse. By 2am I'm on the verge of collapsing. This really shatters my hopes of getting a four-legged, furry friend in the near future.

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Friday November 14, 1975

Uninteresting day at the YP. Ring Carole at lunchtime and arrange to meet her at the usual hour. Believe it or not, we are leaving the pub early before closing time tonight to see a BBC2 film tribute decdicated to the Prince of Wales, who is 27 today. Carole hates the Royal Family, but wants to watch the programme because I do.

We meet at 8. She is staying with Maria while her Mum & Dad are away again. Neither of us are in a good mood, and tempers on both sides are frayed. At the Hare for 8.15. It is completely flat and dead. Andy, Linda, Stuart, Christine, Keith, Helen, Lynn, Dave, CB, CD, Helen L, Jimmy Mac, Carole and myself, but despite the good turn-out it is too quiet for comfort. Andy laughs at my hairstyle for some reason, and if I'd have had a few more drinks inside me I'd have clogged him one around the ear-hole. Carole and I are on pernod again. Lager is all very well, but it does tend to be like a minor atomic bomb in ones belly.

I am arranging a coach trip to Brummels for Nov 27. Everyone going except Andy and Linda who are going to a wedding.

The (Prince of Wales) programme starts at 10.15. Just me and Carole, Mum and Dad watching it. From start to finish it was a masterpiece. The prince's sense of humour comes through loud and clear and if Spike Milligan is still alive when the prince succeeds to the throne I can forsee the House of Lords coping with the goon-like Earl Milligan, KG. The film showed details of the prince's flying activities and his installation as Grand Master of the Order of the Bath. Carole said she'd enjoyed it, but I think she is just humouring me.

We mess about and laugh with Lynn and Dave, who come in at about 10.45, and the four of us drive round to Maria's for a little social booze. Maria drank too much martini
and my last recollection of her was when she fell onto the floor for the last time, kicking her legs in the air, and letting out hideous giggles. I had over the necessary amount, and so too did Carole. I told her I didn't think I loved her. She was upset. I don't know why I said it. I'm a mixed up fool. Insane probably, but it's not my fault.


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Thursday November 13, 1975

A cold, crisp, typical autumn morn. To Leeds with Jim. I don't know what I'll do when the day dawns when I find myself Jim Rawnsleyless. The man has been like a chauffeur to me for the best part of three years, and the thought of actually driving myself to work or catching a revolting bus is too bad a thing to even be considered. They don't make good servants like him anymore, you know. They are a dying breed and the world will be a less happier place when they are no more.

Finish at 12. Christine B rings. She's working in Leeds until the end of the month and says we'll have to meet one lunchtime for a pub crawl. I let out a burst of hideous, nervous laughter when she says she and Philip are meeting this lunchtime for summit talks. It will be a year since she finished with him on Boxing Day, but if Elizabeth Taylor can tie the knot once more with Richard Burton I fail to see why they cannot. CD said something was afoot, and I now know what she meant. CB also came out with some unkind remarks about her latest attachment. From what I saw of him last night he did not seem all that formidable, and if anything he struck me as being a cheerful, decent chap. She is seeing him for the last time on Saturday, but I can't help thinking she's making a mistake.

I go into the town centre and drift about wondering what to buy for Carole's 18th birthday next week. I espy a locket in a jewellers window and immediately purchase it. John's given me the money to get her 'Atlantic Crossing' the Rod Stewart LP and I have no trouble getting that either.

Home in the bright sun at 2.15. See in the papers that poor Princess Anne is laid up at Oak Grove with influenza. Tomorrow will be her second wedding anniversary and still we wait anxiously for signs that the marriage has been consumated. It's all very well for Mark Phillips to persue his career in the army, but his first duty must be to secure the throne and give the Queen her first grandchild so to take her mind off the Australian constitutional crisis.

I have no lunch and sit doing absolutely nothing at all. (Well,if you must know I've spent nearly two and a half hours filling in this diary properly).

Carole rings at 4.15 and guesses that I've bought her a locket straight away but when I say "Ah, but what sort of locket?" She replies immediately "a silver one". Dead right, she is, and I'll have to buy something else now for a surprise.

We meet at 8.30 and go to the Hare with John. Maria is at her piano teachers place playing, and so he's quite free and unattached tonight. We buy each other pernod and oranges and have a few lagers too. By 10.30 we are a bit popped up.

Haircut day for Carole on Saturday and she's worried sick by it. I tell her not to be daft. Vidal Sassoon won't make a complete bugger of it.

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Wednesday November 12, 1975

See Marita and Philip on the 35 bus again tonight. They laugh about the bus breaking down last night, and say it must be an ill omen. _________.

John and I go to the Hare for a quick one at 8.15 and then he goes up to Maria's. I go to Carole's and surprise her by dragging her up to the Chevin Inn. We sit slumped in a corner arguing about all sorts of things. This is a regular thing now. Well, when I say regular I mean at least once a week. By spending one night bickering I find that shear bliss reigns over the rest of our nights together.

We walk back to the Hare for the last hour. Everyone finds my mode of dress amusing, and make fun of my tie. I did look a bit 'yakky' if such a word exists, but the last thing I expected was mass opposition to my clothes. Anyway, I set fashion and do not follow it.

CB is in with a chap. He seems pleasant, and I think he's the best one she's picked up since Philip. Just as we were leaving CD said something to the effect that CB had told he she'd like to go out with Philip again. I am somewhat startled, but think that they were made for each other, and this messing around will get them nowhere. The five of us, that is CD, CB, her boyfriend and me wait at the bus stop. Carole is always subdued when Christine B is in the vicinity. I think it's a shame. CB is a very good friend. When they are all heading in the direction of Horsforth Carole and I have a good laugh - we are like something out of a madhouse.

Can it be love? Do I hear the clatter of wedding bells in the near future? No.

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Tuesday November 11, 1975

Foggy day again. The YP was uneventful other than an article in the EP re the Prince of Wales's interview with "Woman's Own" magazine about his love life and aspects of his future position. He says that marriage is out whilst he's in the navy, and that 30 is a nice age to do it, if it's to be done at all. The Daily Mail some time ago published an article about HRH at a London discotheque "wrapped around a blonde (who wishes to remain anonymous)". Who that blonde is is anyone's guess. Diana Dors?

At 4.30 I'm leaving the office, minding my own business, when I clapped eyes on the 35 bus. "Ah" I thought "instead of waiting for the 33, I'll go on this one". So I did, and stumbled upon the shapely form of Miss Marita Fountain, who immediately began extracting inmformation about Andy and Linda's engagement. She says that Denise saw Linda, Andy and Christine White in the Stone Trough the other night. I learn that Mr & Mrs White have been entertaining Stuart's Mum & Dad. Xmas engagement?
________________________.Whilst this interesting conversation is developing with Marita I detect several freak jerks coming from the bus turbines. Within minutes we are standing on the kerb in thick fog, cursing the pile of red painted metal that was once a great instrument of public transport. We are joined by Philip Knowles, who never changes. The three of us use our initiative and walk towards Horsforth in order to get the next bus. Our plan fails and at the crematorium we are confronted with a problem. A full bus with only space for one more soul. After searching our hearts Philip and I decide to sacrifice ourselves for Marita's sake. She disappeared over the horizon on a warm, bright, cheery bus full of people singing together and praising the Lord that they are fortunate enough to have been endowed with a seat by the gracious permission of the West Yorkshire Road Car Co.

Philip and I were lucky to get a later bus and I was home in the darkness of night.

News: see that Australia is having difficulties. The Governor-General has sacked the Prime Minister and appointed the opposition leader in his place. Rampaging mobs of Aussie agitators now roam at will through Sydney.

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Monday November 10, 1975

Monday morning again. Sarah is off with some undisclosed illness, and of course Kathleen never comes in on Mondays. So we have a busy day really.

Derek Foster brings over a letter from the Duchess of Leinster who is complaining about the way the press have treated the duke over his bankruptcies. She says he's been ever so upset about the things we've said, and adds "people do make mistakes when they are young", and it is wrong of the press to keep harping on about the past. I agree with the duuchess in all these things except the bit about the duke making mistakes when he was young. His Grace is now 83, and he was a bankrupt until 1970. I hardly think that "making mistakes when you are young" applies to a 78 year-old man.

Ring Marita at her place of work and tell her of the engagement. She is bowled over by it. __________. Marita also says that she'll inform MM. I always laugh at Marita. Don's ask me why, because if you do I'll only give you a negative reply.

Home at 5.20 as usual and Carole rings me. We decide not to meet tonight. _____. However, she rings again at 8pm from Maria's and I invite her round here. She arrives while I'm in the throes of 'Coronation Street', and we have a coffee with Mum, Sue and Peter. Carole is like a child in many ways and one would never believe that she is older than Lynn. So many things have to be explained to her in great detail. I sometimes feel like a teacher when we're together. Quite an attractive schoolgirl she is, too!

See a film at 9.20 "Quatermass and the Pit". I liked it. We then saw (Uncle) Harold Wilson speaking at the Lord Mayor's Banquet. I'm horrified what I see staring at me from the tv screen. A haggard, pale, anaemic old gent who doesn't like being with us at Christmas. These past few months have certainly aged him beyond his years. Let us hope that the shining example set by General Franco will not go unheeded at No 10, Downing Street. He finishes speaking at 11.30 and I then walk Carole to Menston. It's a nice evening and the walk did me some good I'm sure.

Home at 12.45 and leap with relief beneath the sheets.

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