Tuesday February 21, 1978

Christine phoned to see if I fancied going out tonight. How could I refuse? She told me that Philip H is seeing another girl behind her back, which will be the death knell to this affair. Unlucky in love is something of an understatement where Christine is concerned.

A cold, icy, deadly evening. I went down the lane to the Fox at 8:30, where she's already at the bar with a half of cider. These are always jolly occasions and this one was no exception. Carole came in with Fogarty! They may no longer be betrothed but they look and act much the same as they have always done to me. Christine laughed a good deal. We both affirmed our dislike of Mr Fogarty. The man's a moron.

The Fox and Hounds resembled a funeral parlour and we seemed to be the only beggars enjoying ourselves. Mind you, it is a Tuesday and a damp one at that. From the F(ox) we walked to the Hare. CB didn't like me putting my arms around her and we had an embarrassing tussle in the mist. By the time we got to the Hare we were yards apart.

In the tap room (where the only sign of life existed) we met  Rick Marshall, Willie and his senile girlfriend. R says he's going straight now after last months assault case. Basically he's a decent lad but he's transformed into a snarling monster with alcohol. We talked about Bob Marley, sex and booze. Christine poured half a pint of cider over Willie during a heated part of the discussion.

Judith, looking like a 'Moll' from a Wild West saloon, informed me of her new status at the pub. She's going off to Benidorm at the weekend with the _______little manager. Personally I think _________.

Outside Christine and I were faced with the horror of a hitch-hike home. It was absolutely freezing and so we nipped into the park at White Cross and fooled around on the swings. We were almost at Yeadon before we got a lift, but how thankful we were. I phoned Mum from Christine's and proceeded to stay the night. I sat, wrapped in a sleeping bag, reading about the Universe and planets in relation to their distance from the Sun, until 1:30am.

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Monday February 20, 1978

Phone calls from Carole and Jacq. I'll deal with them in alphabetical order. Carole says she's not feeling too well and has headaches. She is 'dis-engaged' from Peter Fogarty ~ and it's over once and for all. She is going back to hospital. God Bless her.

Jacq phoned. She's pleased I'm able to go to Gina's wedding. I tell her a letter is in the post. She has managed to get an application form for Ladbroke's. She will be staying at a Youth Hostel in Hanover Square, Leeds, until she can lay claim to a flat. We joked about coming to live in the centre of Leeds when the Ripper is running free, but she says things can't be any worse than in London.

Walter Sickert.

On Feb 7 I had a chat with Speed about the original Jack the Ripper and today Mum says that a programme on the BBC has said very much the same: i.e that the Duke of Clarence married a prostitute and had a daughter, who married (Walter) Sickert, the painter, and that the 'ladies' who knew of this liaison and child were 'done away with' by the 'bloody, hand-shaking Freemasons'. I really must have a word with Speed tomorrow and see what he actually knows. According to Mum Queen Victoria's physician had the poor 'Duchess of Clarence' shut away for life, and that he too was in on the murders. This of course implicates the dear, old Queen-Empress.

Nothing much else. It's diabolically cold. The south of England is having an Ice Age and we're not much better off up here. Older people walk around saying 'Oh, it's just like 1947' and younger ones say 'Oh, it's just like 1963'. All quite boring. Sheep are being buried alive. Edith's son, Kenneth, is buried in the drifts at Newton Abbot.

See TV again. 'Jeremiah Johnson' starring Robert Redford, &c. Dame Marie Rambert is 90 today.

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Sunday February 19, 1978

2nd Sunday in Lent

A quiet day. Have felt very tired this weekend and have relished bed more than usual. When I eventually decided to emerge Susan & Peter were making lunch. Pork, Yorkshire puddings (flat ones), and roast potatoes. The aroma from the kitchen is one I will never forget.

I joked with Peter about Prince Andrew and his £20,000 income. 'What does an 18 year-old want with so much money?' he asks. I replied, much to his great annoyance, that the prince needs every penny for his new Aston Martin and the jewels he is buying for Kirsty Richmond. I love antagonising Nason. But I was surprised to read in the Sunday Express that our beloved chancellor, Denis Healey, is looking after Prince Andrew's cash until the time comes when HRH takes up royal duties. Bloody Hell, Andy, don't let Healey lay one greedy, slimy finger on it. Before you know where you are the man will have ploughed your money into the coffers of British Leyland or the Crown Agents.

Mum and Dad are home at about 4. They say Windermere was frozen and skating was to be seen there. Dad says the sight was like a de-industrialised Lowry painting. They've had a happy, but cold weekend.

I spent all day and night eating like a horse and watching television. Yes, Clarke Gable in 'China Seas' (1936) and the dramatisation of James Herriot's vet books on the BBC. Also watched 'Moulin Rouge' based on the life of Toulouse Lautrec and finally 'Julius Caesar' starring James Mason, Marlon Brando and Sir John Gielgud. My eyeballs are square.

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Saturday February 18, 1978

Sun rises 7:10 Sun sets 17:21

Received a lengthy letter from Jacq. She finishes at the Performing Rights Society on March 31 and will be moving to Leeds shortly afterwards. Gina, her ex flat mate, is getting married at Oxford on April 22, and we are both invited to the nuptials. Jacq is a bridesmaid. I spent all day bashing out a reply on the typewriter.

Lynn, Sue and Pete went off to a flea market at Yeadon leaving Dave B laying flat in the snow underneath his car on the drive. His car failed its MOT this morning.

Dave: teaching career ends.

Steaming hot bath. Cheese on toast for tea. Dave L phoned at 6 to say he's meeting Christine Dibb in the Hare to discuss some lambs he wants to buy for school. The two of us went down at 8. The place is like a Mausoleum. Judith was in. The juke box is gone forever. Instead we have the likes of Andy Williams and the Old Groaner over the piped music system. Really painful.  Joined by Lynn, Dave, Sue and Pete at 9 and we went along to the Menston Arms in an attempt to catch the 'prawn man'. Sadly, he didn't arrive and so we moved on to the Commercial, where they sell seafood in glass jars. In fact, it was a very successful, enjoyable evening. It was good seeing David again, but he's going back on Tuesday to the depths of Gloucester. His teaching career ends in July and he wants to be a pub manager, or cinema manager, or something of that ilk. Just think, he could give his own private showing of 'As Naked as The Wind from the Sea' ~ Oh, can you imagine it?

Dave went off home at 11 and we came back to Pine Tops where a grotty Robert Mitchum film was droning away on TV. I retired to bed with 'The Scarlet Pimpernel' but fell into a coma within minutes.

It was such a good day. I am looking forward to Jacq's trek northward ~ it will break the life of monotony. After last night I have definitely decided that ________ is a psychopath. He may even be the (Yorkshire) Ripper.









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Friday February 17, 1978

Sarah.

Hangover all morning. Sarah and I went to the Highlander for a few drinks at lunchtime and it helps to clear my head nicely. We arrived back at the YP at 2:30 to a frosty reception from Kathleen. It's always the same when we leave Carol alone. She always pulls Kathleen to one side in order to blacken our characters, and K falls for it every time. Sarah went home at 4 half pissed. She and John Mac are hitting it off. She tells me she's never been out with anyone quite so calm as John. _______.

No call from Jimmy Mac this evening and so 'Operation Drop' is abandoned. I loathe that pub anyway.

Lynn phoned me at work to tell me Mum and Dad have gone to Ambleside for the weekend and won't be home until Sunday night.

At home Sue is getting ready to go out and is drinking cherry wine by the half pint. By 8 o'clock she'd sunk the whole bottle. It's good to see I'm not the only piss artist in the family. By 'going out' time David is not back from Gloucester and so I went to the Fox & Hounds with Sue and Pete. Joined by Pete M, Chris, Martyn and Tony. My boots were received with the usual wisecracks. At 10:30 I went with Sue and Pete for some food and came home. It was cold tonight. I was compelled to drink whisky.

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Thursday February 16, 1978

Still slightly snowy.  I failed to mention yesterday that Mrs Slocombe is back from _____________. This revolting gossip epitomises the whole tone of life at Yorkshire Post Newspapers Ltd, and from what I've just stated you have gathered, no doubt, that this so-called 'secret' will remain just that.  Blimey, you can rely on me never to tell a living soul, Carol, dear.  Ho, Ho, Ho.

Sarah asks if I want to join her and Marilyn in a pizza tomorrow night, but I refuse owing to my financial situation. I don't know why because I will go out tomorrow and I'll end up spending the same amount of cash.

Margaret Nason

Tonight Jim and Margaret Nason came for 'a few' drinks and to our surprise John, Maria and Jimmy Mac arrived at 11 after the pubs had closed. Maria bought Susan's 1976 bridesmaid dress for £10. I drank far too much, but everyone else seemed to be doing just the same. Dad and Jimmy had the usual great debate on education, sex, law & order, &c. &c. We took no notice of them.

My John Wayne's  (boots) were admired by all. I didn't get to bed until after 3am because I did the glasses and cleared up generally - silly sod. Even when I finally hit the sack I had to read a bit of 'El Dorado'.

Out to the Drop tomorrow (I hope) with Jimmy and Fifi. That's if he phones me, which I doubt. David is due home from Gloucester too. So, it could be a pleasant weekend.

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Wednesday February 15, 1978

Snow is still hanging about but it's going foul with effluence ~ call it what you will. Most of the pollution consists of animal excreta unfortunately. However, to escape talk of dog shit let me say Carole phoned this morning. She says she may be going back into hospital because she's plagued by headaches. But she sounded fabulous. The poor thing asked why I hadn't sent her a Valentine's card and my reply was that I didn't want to cause more chaos with her relationship with Fogarty. Sending such a token would only provoke an attack from the fiendish gentleman concerned. I told her I'd reply to her letter.

Lynn & Sue.

Christine's chat with her at Naomi's (birthday party) and Lynn telling her on Feb 4, at George and Jane's, that I "think the world of her" may have have brought on this sudden rush of affection. Never will I forget the horror and torment that I suffered when I thought she was dying.

At home I hear of a bizarre occurrence regarding the hideous ________ which Lynn destroyed last summer.

I wrote to David L (he's home on Friday ~ it's half term already) and to Christine. My letter to Christine was from my solicitors, Dogchaser, Boobie & Crapper. (Oh, I mentioned this yesterday. Am I perhaps going slightly senile?)

Dad went out at midnight to surround the house of a sleeping escaped prisoner. I was in bed with the Scarlet Pimpernel for 11:30 and slipped away into the Land of Nod before his return.

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