Wednesday February 2, 1977

Forgive my use of the biro, but once again I have mislaid my fountain pen. It'll turn up. A rotten day. On the way to the YP with Jim I see, with horror, CB slumped in her wrecked car half way across New Road Side (Horsforth) surrounded by blood stained rescuers and salvage equipment. What can have happened?

Miss Rushworth

Judith rings to say she's actually ill and has to miss tonight's 'Pink Panther' spectacular. Are we jinxed or something? I know all about 'true love finding a way' but I think we've well and truly stopped it in its tracks this time. What's your opinion anyway of two-timers? Please do not forget I am only 22 and have never done it before. Blimey, some people do worse things. Look at the Black Panther for instance. Should I break with Lynne altogether? Come on, you lot out there. Can't you see I need some help? For God's Sake Help me someone!

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Tuesday February 1, 1977

Go to Pudsey at 12.30 to have lunch with Auntie Mabel. She makes a massive meal and gets great pleasure from stuffing me to bursting point. She shows me a pile of old newspapers including a copy of the Daily Herald from June '53 featuring the Coronation and a pathetic magazine of the love-match between Princess Margaret and Lord Snowdon.

After the enormous lunch it's to Pudsey cemetery to find my great-grandparents Wood and Wilson. We're soon amidst the gravestones conducting a search of Pudsey's dead centre.

Sarah Ann Wood (1866-1926)

My Wilson grandparents have no headstone, and after an hour wallowing in the mud we find the Wood grave beneath a holly bush. My great-grandmother, Sarah Ann Wood (nee Carling) died December 22, 1926, aged 60 (born 1866?) and my great-grandfather, Harry Wood, died June 13, 1928, aged 69 (born 1859?). My great-uncle John Cyril James Wood, also in the tomb, died September 4, 1924, aged 19. An interesting find. Back to Mabel's for tea and a night in front of the TV. I'm sure she enjoyed today's macabre adventure. She was only a child when she last visited her grandparents' graves. Leave her at 9 o'clock and home by 10.

Monday January 31, 1977

Marita 22. Don't alight from 'neath the sheets until a late hour this morning. A wet, miserable day. Mummy is still indisposed with influenza and is confined to her chambers. Papa doesn't look much better.

Dorothy's pub, the White Horse

Go see Lynne at the Red Lion at 1.30 and have a couple of drinks. She's in two minds about Stephanie's proposition and somehow I don't think the Divine Vera approves. Dispose of the sweet thing by 2.30 and then go to Cousin Dorothy's pub, the White Horse. She entertains me until 5 o'clock discussing the Wilson family. She says my great-grandmother, Rella Wilson, had red hair, couldn't read or write, was a very good cook. Her Piccalilli was second to none. She (Rella) was delighted that Dorothy went to grammar school (which she did circa 1923). Dorothy is very straight-forward and seems severe in a daft sort of way. She frightened the living daylights out of me at first. Had an interesting time and promise to keep her informed.

Go to John and Maria's and stay until 9pm. Baby is better but Maria is feeling off it now. Watch 'Panorama'. It looks at the Queen's reign - very good.  John was interested but Maria kept hurling abuse at the TV.

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Sunday January 30, 1977

4th after Epiphany. Up at 12 noon just as John and Maria arrive with JPH in his perambulator. He's parked in the lounge and the usual race follows to see which member of the family can first lay hands on him. The porridge he'd had for breakfast at Molly's didn't stay down. In fact he brought a fair amount of it up all over me. Lynne clears off in the direction of Chris's at Horsforth to collect Peter M for the great trek back to Ty-Onnen. Why do they have to go home just for one bloody night?

John and his first-born.

We had lunch at 2. Peter N included which is quite a laugh because he always 'has a go' at Mum. He has a great sense of humour.

I work tonight. Yes, I give the YP use of my amazing brain for one whole evening. Work 6.20pm - 1am. Not too bad an onslaught really. Did about 48m tons of filing. Oh God, I'm confused again. Women, I'm afraid. Ring Judith and arrange to go see the 'Pink Panther' next Wednesday. We joke about our constant failure to see the danmed thing. Since the Wednesday after Christmas the arrangements have gone hay-wire. Rang Dave Glynn and had a chat.


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Saturday January 29, 1977

Emerge (from my bed) at 11 or so and hear that Lynn and Lynne are going shopping together to Bradford this afternoon which is a relief because NEVER AGAIN will I go shopping with Miss Mather. Our shopping excursion the Saturday before Christmas was one of the most nauseating experiences I have ever had. I'm not joking either. She goes down to Burley-in-W (Lynne that is) to see Stephanie Ferguson about sharing her country residence and comes back saying the rental for the room is £7 plus food and half the bills. Not bad because she forks out £7 already in petrol each week.

Lynn in her dungarees.

Lynn and Lynne return from Bradford at 5 o'clock with a pair of dungarees each. _______. We go to to the Hare at 9 o'clock after collecting John and Maria from Molly & Jim's. Chris, Pete M, Lynne, Lynn, Dave B, Sue, Peter N, Christine D, Graham (Airey), CB (with Rick Marshall !!). Quite a good evening really, especially when Chris gave me the £5 he'd borrowed and which I'd quite forgotten about. Stay at the Hare until 11 and then we take John & Maria back to Molly & Jim's where we remain until 3.15am talking with Molly. She went into great detail about an Edward G. Robinson film that had just finished on the telly. I think she's tremendous and sit enthralled, but by 2.45 John and Lynne were asleep. Only Maria and I survived.

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Friday January 28, 1977

Meet Miss Denise Akroyd outside the YP at 1pm and we go over to the Central and meet Marita who buys us both a pint of lager in honour of her twenty second birthday tomorrow. D and I sit until 2.30 and discuss a few controversial topics including Mr_________.She makes it all sound like Wuthering Heights. A good girl. We plan to have an orgy at her place on February 11.

Back to the YP. Ring Lynne and connect her to Stephanie Ferguson so she can enquire about the Burley-in-Wharfedale residence. Lynne is cheesed off buggering about between Thornton-le-Dale & Roundhay. Quite understandable I think.

Meanwhile: 8 o'clock,  the two of us head to the (Horsforth) Leisure Centre where we attempt to watch the squash finals. Sarah and Peter (Baker) are in foul moods, and after battling though dinner of yet another chicken leg and frozen peas I'd had just about enough. Sarah sobbing all over the dinner table didn't do much to improve the atmosphere. Lynne and I cleared off as soon as it was decently possible to Oakwood Hall, where another 'mortuary atmosphere' prevailed. Peter & Dave Lazenby, Miss Akroyd and Michelle are romping around to old Showaddywaddy singles, &c. Need I say more?

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Thursday January 27, 1977

Don't ask me how I felt today. Oh, my head! Oh my eyes! Oh, my throat &c! To be honest, I think I'm going to die. Yes, it's that bad.

Chris Ratcliffe.

To the Hare at the usual time after taking a whole day to recover. Joined at the pub by Martyn & Chris and at first we're somewhat lethargic. I even sup tomato juice. Our indifference to enjoyment and total lack of vitality is reduced by the arrival of Denise, Naomi, Carole and Karen (a vassal of Miss Akroyd and a pupil of Fieldhead in days long gone by). The reason for the glut of female revellers can be put down to the fact that Miss Downing is celebrating her birthday tomorrow. At 10.30 in snow, shit and hail we all go to the former Minstrel's Gallery (Il Trovatore) again. Martyn wrapped himself around Naomi all night and I paid more attention to Denise than I should have done. Talked with Carole and she seems to think that I loathe her and frowns, scowls, and passes doubtful glances in my direction all night saying I've 'changed'. Well, we all have to change, don't we?

Il Trovatore, Ilkley.

Blimey, we can't go on living life exactly like we did the year before. We come home at 2.30 and Chris and I have a nasty incident in the van over the moors. He just lost control of the vehicle, went into a skid and left the road. A sobering little move it was.

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