Saturday June 17, 1978

Sun rises at 04:43 Sun sets 21:20

Another party. Jacq and I went to Bradford this afternoon where I collected the air tickets from Denise. It was Jacq's first meeting with my former constant companion.

A bright, sunny afternoon, but I dislike the town intensely. We were back home for 4 or 5. After tea with the clan the two of us walked to the Crown at Yeadon. Philip K, Jane and co told us that Jed is having a party tonight, and so Jacq immediately approached the young man and secured our invitation. We purchased a few bottles and walked with Jed to his house, where his DJ brother has millions of brill records. We didn't drink to excess but did a lot of dancing and laughing.

A guy by the name of John taught Jacq to say "Doctor Bob!" like Miss Piggy on The Muppet Show, and far into the night the house, and indeed the street, rang to the sound of screeching puppet piggy voices.

Miss Carol Smith was at the party. She now owns her own hairdressing salon.

It was 5am and the birds were forming their own choral society when we finally decided to call it a day. Fourteen neighbours had committed suicide en masse out of protest at the noise level.

And so it came to pass that Mig and Jacqui left the party at Rawdon with the morning sun on their faces to venture out into the unknown.

-=-

Friday June 16, 1978

Jacq had a party at the YWCA in honour of a party of Frogs who were passing through Leeds. I went straight round to her place from the YP and she washed my hair and gave me a clean shirt in her little room. Her room-mate is enormous ~ like a pregnant Indian elephant, or whichever type of elephant is the largest.

A couple of Greeks, a Scot and a Welshman joined us at the George tavern opposite the Infirmary where we made merry until closing time. The pub landlady resembles Hylda Baker.

Back at the YWCA I met Coun Mrs May Sexton, the principal or governor, or whatever they call 'em. She told me she would like to see capital punishment restored. So do I. It was a good, humorous party with loud pulsating music and sandwiches. We danced all night. At 4am I helped clear the devastation and at dawn I hitch-hiked home, completing the journey in a couple of hours.

-=-

Thursday June 15, 1978

Linda and Anne's leaving 'do' at the Central from 5:30. I took Jacq. We were quite pissed by 11. People kept approaching me to say things like: "I thought you were the quiet type?" It annoyed me.

Peter Lazenby gave me £10 and ordered me to go on the Blackpool trip. It was a moving scene.

-=-

Wednesday June 14, 1978

Happy Birthday, David Ian Lawson. And other than this I am afraid I have nothing else to say to any of you today. It hurts me because you know how I hate leaving large, white blank spaces. I'm simply lacking in the old grey material this afternoon and the fourteenth day of June leaves me cold. The weather wasn't up to much and I was closeted away in the confines of the YP for the entire day which cannot do much to alleviate your bordedom so I'll just say bye bye. Bye Bye then.

-=-

Tuesday June 13, 1978

Moon's first quarter 23:44

St Barnabas (transference)

I made Dave L a birthday card today and had to wait outside next to the post box this evening holding it my hand (as well as the card) to hand it to the postman because it was too large to insert in the box. The card, made by me, has a glossy, headscarf clad photo of the smiling Queen (taken at Badminton in April) on the front. I also compiled a little verse inside. It should amuse David anyway, and one thing's fore sure ~ he won't have a duplicate of this on his doormat tomorrow morning.

Today is Lynne Mather's 21st.


To Lynne, on this, your coming of Age


O' Lynne Mather, it's your birthday once more,
And it only seems yesterday that you were four,
With big glowing teeth, and glossy hair,
you don't resemble a mountain bear.

Oh no, tis something more regal and fine,
a good Regency chair or an old gold mine?

A description of you cannot be penned,
Unless by Byron, Wordsworth and friends,
For the likes of you, will always be,
Nasty and Monstrous and crooked of knee.

-=-

Monday June 12, 1978

The bloody Pope has refused to give Mrs Troubridge a dispensation to marry Prince Michael in church and so the couple will now have to wed abroad in a civil ceremony. This is indeed a nasty blow for Anglo-Roman relations. At a time when two thirds of the world is heathen I find it annoying to say the least that the few remaining Christians should squabble over denominational rules and regulations.

His Holiness objects to Prince Michael's statement that his children will be brought up as Anglicans. Silly old sod.

The Royal wedding is planned for June 30 and will take place in Vienna. God only knows when a member of the Royal Family last wed in a civil ceremony ~ if ever. The Queen will be white haired and crumpled by Christmas.

On the subject of strained relations I feel I ought to mention Mummy and Daddy. They haven't spoken today either, and both are being silly, even though Dad is more silly than Mum. What is the point of blaming Mum for the car accident? I just can't see it. He was willing to hand over his car keys and has no argument whatsoever. Mum is now saying she didn't collide with a dry stone wall at all, and that somebody else ran into her on the makeshift car park. This is just taking it too far.

Dave B is coming tomorrow to carry out repair work and before long the damage will be untraceable ... I hope.

-=-

Sunday June 11, 1978

3rd Sunday after Trinity

Feast of Weeks (Shebuoth)

I didn't get to bed until 8:30 this morning, but by noon Jacq and I had set out on a walk to Baildon Moor, uprooting a few oak saplings on the way for the garden. We were out in the countryside until after 5 and a very pleasant, happy time was had.

At home Mum was very quiet. Dad was refusing to talk to her because of the car incident. How pathetic! If he hadn't have been so pissed the calamity would have been avoided. David B says the damage will cost £20 to put right. Never mind.

-=-