Thursday November 10, 1977

Went to see Carole at 2.30 bearing a box of chocolates and fearing the worst. Leeds Infirmary is an incredible place to get in. The bloke who first discovered Ward 26 may well have been Capt Scott.

Carole is ill but one wouldn't believe it by looking at her. Her looks have not deteriorated nearly half as much as I'd been informed by other visitors. She was overjoyed to see me and was an Angel. For me it was glorious to see her face and hear her voice. Her mother was with her, and behaved very nicely. It was just like old times in fact. Carole is the bravest kid alive - and she's only just managed to hang onto that by God's will. Mrs Phillips says that on two or three occasions Carole was a 'write off', and it seems that their priest is wearing a path from his church to the hospital. I was horrified to hear Carole's description of several revolting tests they have subjected her to, and could not find the suitable words to respond. I am over awed by it all. Her body is paralysed after treatment she's had on her spine and she is blind in one of her eyes (but unaware of this). I left at 3.30 and returned to the YP promising to visit again on Monday with chocolates and sandwiches. In hospital Carole is actually eating meat and vegetables of the non canned, fried or baked beaned variety. She is putting up one Hell of a fight. I do love her. She loves Peter Fogarty. I just want to see her happy whether it's with me, Fogarty or the Aga Khan.

To the (West Yorkshire) Playhouse at Leeds with Sarah after tea at Delia's. Saw 'Twelfth Night' with Vivien Heilbron as Olivia. Incredibly amusing. I seemed to enjoy it more than Sarah who looked seriously bored by it all. I do think she finds me dull. We left at 10.30 and she came back for a cup of tea (she never partakes in coffee). Mum is still laid up in bed and the Norfolk venture is fading all the more. Poor Soul. I shall have to get her a present at the weekend.

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Wednesday November 9, 1977

Mum was taken ill after tea. Have we perhaps been subject to poisoning? God knows, but one thing's for sure - the Norfolk visit for Mum and Dad is now in jeopardy. (I bet Jeopardy is far nicer than Norfolk anyway. The climate is better than ours at this time of year, and Jeopardy has no ghastly Broads to contend with).

We watched a play on the BBC which, quite remarkably, is good. The leading lady, whose name escapes me, deserves an Academy award for her portrayal of a deaf and dumb Bradford prostitute who stabs an alcoholic pimp to death in the Lumb Lane. Wonderful family viewing. It made such a change from all the sex and violence so often awash on our TV screens in these restless times. (I'm spreading the writing out tonight because I want to get to bed).

Dumas: infatuated with typist.

You will sit back and raise your hands in horror that I'm only on page 728 of 'The Count of Monte Christo' (and I can't even spell his soddin' name right). I know it's truly pathetic, but I'm afraid the book is becoming incredibly dull. The count is certainly taking his vengeance very seriously and incredibly slowly. One would think the guy had all the time in the world. Either Mr Dumas had connections in the paper manufacturing industry or he was infatuated with his typist.

Bed at the usual time and attempted to reach page 750, but failed.

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Tuesday November 8, 1977

Quite a good day at the YP. A new journalist, John Longman, came into the library and I spent the day with him showing him the ropes. He seems quite a decent sort really.

Kathleen was in a strangely pleasant and unruffled mood. Is her sailor boyfriend in harbour at the moment, one wonders?

Princess Anne: married stableboy.

Read in the papers that Princess Anne is going to be delivered of the young Mr Phillips in hospital, probably the King Edward VII Hospital for Officers. So very sad and a horrid departure from tradition. Young Lord Ulster and Lord Nicholas Windsor were hospital born but no other royals so near the Throne have been. Ah well, I suppose somebody somewhere will call it the march of progress.

I heard, with horror and nausea, Kenneth Kendal announce on the nine o'clock news, that Princess Anne's child will not receive a title of any kind and will be known simply as Master or Miss Phillips. Born in a common hospital, and without a title! What a let down. My God, 'Private Eye' was right when it said, two or three years ago, that Gt Britain's decline could be traced to the sad day when Princess Anne married her stableboy. As the years go by I rely more and more on the deliberations of that knowledgeable organ, 'the Eye'.

Mum and Dad went to the Cow & Calf with John and Maria at 8.30 and did not return until almost 1am. ____. Afterwards they took refreshment at 69, Silverdale Drive. ______.

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Monday November 7, 1977

Sarah's 25th birthday. Her Silver Jubilee in fact. Not a thrilling day by any means and Sarah isn't in ecstasy at the thought of attaining her quarter century. With Eileen we went to Da Mario's on the Headrow at 1pm for a celebration nosh. Joined by Bev and Marilyn Wheeler. ___________.

Vivien Heilbron.

Back to the YP bloated and tired at 2.30. I told Sarah I would not formally recognise her jubilee until Thursday when we go to the Playhouse to see Vivien Heilbron in 'Twelfth Night'. Afterwards we shall have to let ourselves go. She does me a lot of good does Sarah Elizabeth. To paraphrase Bagehot she's a 'soothing influence on a dark and restless age'.

Tonight John came up to plan a night out with with Mum and Dad and Maria at a place of Mum and Dad's choice. They decide upon the Cow & Calf tomorrow night. _______.

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Sunday November 6, 1977

22nd after Trinity. Felt ghastly this morning. John brought JPH round after breakfast. He's grown tremendously, crawls backwards over the floor and says 'hello', 'flowers', 'dog', and 'daddy'.

Mum and Dad don't appear aggravated about the numerous guests asleep all over the house, and after they'd gone all I got was a sigh from Mum and she said that perhaps I'd invited a few too many to stay under the one roof.

John G, Phil, Kath, Michelle and Steve left at 11am because Kath and Phil have a luncheon appointment with relations. A damned shame because I intended having a big 'do' at the Commercial. A short, quiet visit really, but they can't be idiots permanently like some nameless beings are.

Mum looked after JPH and John, Dave, Sue and Pete and I went down to the pub. Joined by Tony. Afterwards we went down to Ings Lane (or Avenue) to look at a house that Lynn and Dave fancy.

Mum with Lynn , Dave, and Edith.

Back home we have sangria with the Blackwells, then more wine, sangria, wine, sangria, wine, wine, &c. Edith looked ill, old and semi-senile. Quite suddenly the woman's gone down hill. I'm sure Ernest knows she's faded too. She just sat, not speaking, and so dull.  Not a bit like the Edith of old.

At 8.30 Dave, Sue, Pete and I went with Tony and Martyn to meet Chris and Pete M at North Rigton. From here we went to a pub at Pool in Wharfedale, where I was knackered, miserable and thoroughly boring.

Martyn was attempting to be 'bitchy' and sarcastic with me but failed miserably so I had to give him lessons. He was joking with Pete M about my moustache but I beat all the quips when I said I'd had it grafted 'off my arse'. Martyn went hysterical at this. If a job's worth doing it's worth doing properly. I can think of nothing more pathetic than a wise cracker who is neither wise nor particularly cracking. Back home by 11.

Pete M told me I could have Lynne back at any time I wished and that she still loves me. He also went on to say I was slipping in my old age and that the millions of my female followers, who have always been my trade mark, have now deserted me. For Christ's sake, who does he think he is? Peter Mather giving me, Michael Rhodes, advice on the female species! That is the laugh of the month, I think.

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Saturday November 5, 1977

Dave of Stockport, John Grady, Steve Glenholmes, Michelle 'Pink Pants', Phil & Kathleen, &c, &c, paid us a visit. Dave arrived at about 5pm and the others at half nine. By the time the latter bunch came Dave and I were pissed on Mum's sangria and 'Chateau Pois'.

We went to the Fox and Hounds with Sue and Pete and met Tony, Martyn, Chris, Pete M,  and three or four females. One was called Edwina, but that's about all I can remember of them.

Peter M and John Grady.

At 11 we went back to Tony's (change of ink) for a party in the flat. Lynn and Dave joined us at midnight. They'd been to see the Rev Calvin Ward, vicar of Esholt, who is going to marry them on September 9, 1978. Good, eh?

John G seemed more reserved tonight and dedicated most of the evening, quite naturally, to Michelle. ____was getting at me quite a bit. My attitude is that he can piss off.

Phil and Kathleen are very pleasant people as indeed are all the Lancs/Greater Manchester contingent. Dave G is well in with Lynn, and it's great to see everyone hitting it off so nicely.

We were at Tony's until about 4am when we came to Pine Tops for a further riotous, yet non alcoholic session. Lynn made butties and coffee, but I was suffering from wild indigestion. I retired at 5am. John G slept on my floor. Chris slept with Michelle in the dining room and the remainder had the lounge. Lynn gave up her room for Phil and Kath who are, of course, married. Sue went to the Nason residence.

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Friday November 4, 1977

Leeds, or Atlantis?

Refused point blank to enter a place of alcoholic liquid consumption this evening. It is my own personal protest at the increasing rate of alcoholism which has taken place in the United Kingdom in recent times. By 1996 the whole of Yorkshire and Humberside will be submerged beneath a vast lake of lager, Beaujolais and Pennine Bitter. Leeds will be a pickled version of Atlantis.

I phoned Chapel Allerton (Hospital) to enquire about Carole and they told me she was back at Otley (Hospital) and so I phoned that obnoxious place where a nurse told me she is still seriously ill and not seeing vast deputations of visitors but if I want I can make an appointment and pay a brief visit when nobody else is in attendance. I'll go on Thursday next week with a box of chocolates or something. I shall always love her even though I find her exasperating and diametrically opposite to everything logical. Love is weird. I wouldn't have believed it possible that a couple with so much love for each other could make such a tragedy of what could have been an everlasting, idyllic relationship.

Tonight I stayed home with Mum and Lynn. Dad was out on constabulary duties until 10. We watched TV until the power workers plunged us into darkness at 11.06pm. Lynn and I sat laughing by candle light and retired to bed, in good spirits, before 12. The electricity was returned in all its glory at midnight and the evil power workers must have been grinning all over their faces at the success of getting 55 million people into bed.

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