Sunday April 2, 1978

1st after Easter Low Sunday

Still slightly nasty about the gills. A day of toil and labour at 7, Lawn Road, Burley-in-Wharfedale. Even David G worked well (not that he's an idle waster or anything). Sue and Peter came down later to entertain the troops like Morecambe and Wise.

David B was in one of his 'all knowing' 'I know everything moods....' After tearing off old wallpaper I ventured over to see Christine Dibb and Graham (Airey) who are entertaining Carol Smith and her fiance.

Tonight's evening meal was ridiculously large. I felt bloated and sick afterwards, and more booze only added to the overall feeling of greed.

Dave L phoned and said he was going to the Shoulder (of Mutton) with MM and Marita. I only ever seem to see MM at Christmas and New Year. Sue, Pete, Dave G and I went down to that tavern at 8:30 and Mr Lawson and Co joined us an hour or so later. Poor David (Stockport) was bemused by the company and said little or nothing for the remainder of the night.

We returned home, we meaning Dave, Sue, Pete and me, and collapsed before the TV. Sir John Betjeman was talking about railway stations on the 'Book Programme'.



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Saturday April 1, 1978

Sun rises 06:37 Sun sets 19:33

Further property speculation, Jay, the snobbish proprietor of 52, Hawksworth Lane attempted to to 'gazump' Mama and Papa for a friend, who wishes to live in this lovely area. Poor Ern was offered £750 more for his house, but he and Edith stuck to their guns and told Jay to bugger off. Friendship is nice and useful at times like this.

My health is worse, I fear. My throat is hideously swollen and a bitter, foul taste lurks on every morsel of food I devour. Poor Dave must be fed up by my moronic appearance. I am doing my utmost to undertake the scheduled functions that were already in the pipeline. Take this afternoon for instance. The whole clan trudged to Morrison's (in wet, soggy conditions)at 11:45 and afterwards we supped at the Clothiers. Ernest accompanied us too, and he told us that the pub was the first he had ever been in all those years ago. The Clothiers has a lot to answer for.

This afternoon we watched the Grand National. Red Rum was nowhere to be seen and an obscure animal called Lucius won. Ernest walked away with the £2 winners prize in our own private stake, and Sue achieved second and third place.





Tonight we went to the Hare to collect Christine. She was in a foul mood & I was immediately depressed by her attitude. From here we joined the mob at the Shoulder of Mutton where Christine and I poured booze over each other and hurtled abuse. Peter's friends watched us with glassy eyes and panting breath. Christine never fails to be a sex symbol on these occasions. She inspires boys to be men with no trouble at all. Anyway, to leave Helen of Troy on one side for a minute I'll just say we joined John and Maria at Oakwood Hall which was abominable. Heat unbearable. Drinking pints of perspiration. I thought Maria was going to keel over and die. Susan wanted to leave early and so we left at 1am. Slept on the way home. Throat is chronic.




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Friday March 31, 1978

Moon's last quarter 16:11......... I am not feeling too well at all. It's me throat, ears and kneck (Does neck have a 'k'. No) Anyway it's burning away like hell and palpitating cheerfully. So typical. I'm entertaining Dave of Stockport and others at the weekend. I came home at 12 to prepare for my venture to the bank and espied Ernest scurrying round his garden beaming broadly. He told me to get home as quickly as I could because Mum has some interesting news for me. Has Roddy Llewellyn proposed to Princess Margaret? Is Daddy going to stand for Parliament at the next general election? No, but it is in fact quite thrilling news. Mum and Dad are going to buy Edith and Ernest's house, 54, Hawksworth Lane, for a mere £19,000. The property is detached and has four bedrooms. Mum and Dad are convinced that Pine Tops could sell for £19,750, or even more. No 54 does require renovations, but it really is remarkable. I won't be sad at leaving Pine Tops. Eight years under one roof is quite long enough. Dave G came at about 4pm. He laughed at the idea of us moving 2 doors down the road. It was good to see him and it's so nice that he is hitting it off with the family. Susan especially delights in his company, as she does with most males. Tonight we went to the Shoulder of Mutton where Dave was introduced to Gus, his 1978 holiday companion. Johnny, Nigel Wooller, but no Chippy were with us. From the Shoulder we ventured to the Dog and Gun at Apperley Bridge, which was packed, and then to the Queen's across the road. Peter N told me he could go to university in September and do a 2 year engineering degree. I was surprised. There's more to Pete than his exquisite taste in women. However, I can't see him furthering his education, due to the fact that his exquisite taste no doubt wishes to marry him and have masses of children. -=-

Thursday March 30, 1978

Without further ado I picked up the phone, dialled a Guiseley number, spoke to a polite young bank clerk (female) and made an appointment to see the manager tomorrow concerning a personal loan. Barclaycard is going for good, and tomorrow may see the dawn of a new era. A Brave New World in fact. Tonight I met Christine at the Drop and my financial position was the principal topic of conversation. Hilarity. I was clad in my tight 31" inside leg jeans which, according to Christine, makes me look like a puff. We howled about it. My half mast trousers, she says, remind her of the Union flag over St Paul's Cathedral at Sir Winston Churchill's funeral. I do like short jeans though and CB isn't the fashion correspondent of the Yorkshire Post. I take no notice of others when it comes to fashion, sex, good looks, &c. From the Drop we made our way to the Yorkshire Rose. Even Christine detects a weird, eerie atmosphere in this ancient place of refreshment. I have proclaimed for years that something is seriously amiss in the tap room here, and the sight of ailing veterans of the Somme and Ypres chatting up 14 and 15 year-olds is quite nauseating. (The Somme and Ypres were World War I battle grounds, in case you're too young to know). Christine moaned about one of her ears being out of action, but otherwise it was all sunshine, champagne and dafodils. I deposited the sweet child onto a bus at 10:45 and made my way home laden with fish and chips. The Thursday night Nason/Blackwell session was in full swing. -=-

Wednesday March 29, 1978

Out with Christine to the Fox and then the Hare. We had the usual laughs. I'm tired of these mausoleums. Me and CB are forever trying to recapture the past at the Hare & Hounds with little or no success. Alas, we are all growing older.

CB: undaunted.

We discussed my birthday and decide that my idea about a coach party would never get off the ground. People, and especially our friends and associates, have funny ideas about transport these days and for them the thought of piling onto a smelly bus with twenty or thirty others has lost its magic and glitter. Anyway, who would want to bother? (How miserable is all this?)

At the Hare we managed to get a game of darts but Christine stabbed my finger and pinned me to the board. Dissolved in fits of laughter. I was penniless too, but CB was undaunted by my financial embarrassment and doesn't let it worry her in the least.  When and where is she going to find the multi-billionaire with a villa on the Italian Riviera? She's not going to discover great wealth whilst drinking every night with me ~ that is unless I heed the advice of the Rev. A.B. Downing.

-=-

Tuesday March 28, 1978

Annunciation (transference)

Jacqui

Phoned Jacqui today. She isn't coming up now until next Monday. This is better I suppose because now it won't clash with Dave's weekend of sin and debauchery. She had a good Easter. Last night Chris attempted to draw information of Jacqui's move northward from me. He didn't get much. He said he could foresee 'Ding Dong Merrily on High' for us in the near future. Whether this refers to a marriage or a premature Christmas I'm unsure. ________________________. I do think a lot of our Jacq and regard her as a leading contender for my hand. But you know what I'm like. I'll probably be 80 before anyone traps me.

Winding my way home this evening I encountered the recumbent form of the Rev. Downing. He was bent tearing up dandelion leaves on Hawksworth Lane. He held me in conversation for ages on the subject of my writing. The dear old man described my 'epistle' to Naomi  accepting the invitation to her 21st birthday party as a 'brilliant piece of work'. I cowered in my modesty as he went on to say I should take up writing on a permanent basis. He asked me, midst the dandelions, why I am not a journalist. I told him it didn't appeal to me. Crikey, Bernard Shaw and Noel Coward were not NUJ members and I don't think it held them back. I said I'd like to be an author and was surprised that he didn't laugh hysterically ~ he just nodded thoughtfully and said what a good idea it was. This makes me think seriously about my 'talent' when ageing theologians and academics express delight at my shoddy, cheap, vulgar 'epistles'. I can appreciate my own friends being amused, because nobody writes these days.


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Monday March 27, 1978

Easter Monday

Bank Holiday (UK, except Scotland)

I fear that I'm the only person in the Kingdom going out to work today. The roads were barren and void of all life. The occasional raincoat-clad old age pensioner kept appearing on the horizon, but that was about all.

Just Sarah and I in the office. Completely dead. We had one phone call between 8:30 and 2pm, when I left.

I left Sarah reading the opera score of 'The Rape of Lucretia' by Britten. She's really into music since Mr MacMurray entered her world.

I walked in the sunshine to Kirkstall and then got a bus home. Spent the remainder of the afternoon sticking photos in Mama's album and then dined at 5 with Sue, Pete, Mum & Dad.

Chris

Christopher phoned at 6:15 to see if I fancied going out. I agreed.  He came up at 8 after dining with Denise at the Flying Pizza in Burley. We stayed for an hour or so in the Fox discussing the adventures of recent times. His 'affair' with Michelle is a weird one. I can't see why they bother. He says Pete M is moving to Otley in June but the Mather's are retaining Ty-Onnen (Bramhope) for holiday purposes. I'm glad because poor Vera (Mather) despises Thornton-le-Dale. I like Chris, but I'm always mindful of what my old grandma used to say: "never trust men with specs who live in Horsforth and work in banks". We went down to join Sue, Pete, Gus, Johnny and Chippy at the Shoulder of Mutton.




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