Wednesday August 30, 1978

I have been watching a TV programme about Vietnam and I must say that it seems to be a very boring place these days. Saigon, or Ho Chi Minh City, as it now is, was once Asias answer to Weston~super~Mare, with strip~tease joints on every street corner and with all night hot and cold running tarts. Sadly, it now resembles a Suffolk village hamlet with nothing but rice and with Methodist ministers everywhere. President Carter really should do something about it. Perhaps I should drop him a line?

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Tuesday August 29, 1978

Lynn is playing a Nat King Cole LP over and over again and in a few moments I intend leaping into the dining room brandishing an axe and have every intention of using it on my precious little sister. For one thing it would put a stop to this dreadful wedding mania and it would also end Nat's brave attempt to escape from his tomb once and for all.

Susan and I think ______________________________________.


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Monday August 28, 1978

Late Summer Bank Holiday (UK, except Scotland)

To the YP on this August Bank Holiday Monday. Just Sarah and I in the office with absolutely nothing to do. Sarah always shows her face on public holidays. She says she refuses to celebrate with the masses and prefers to take her time off at her own discretion.

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Sunday August 27, 1978

14th after Trinity

Jacq and Trixie came to Guiseley this afternoon and we all got horribly pissed in the garden. At one point I was incontinent. Trixie told some very filthy anecdotes and sloshed wine all over her Christian Dior gown and half of Hawksworth Lane for that matter.

By 6pm Dad was unconscious, spread~eagled upon his bed and Jacq was flat out on my bed. I've never seen her in such a state. They left after the full works of a 'Royal Albert' dinner at about 1am.

Dear me, it really was lovely if disgraceful. When Dad pulled round in the evening he left for Lawn Road with Lynn and Dave just to avoid us. ________________________________________.


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Saturday August 26, 1978

Sun rises 06:03 Sun sets 20:01

Up at 10. Sarah made me scrambled eggs on toast. I felt slightly worse for wear. Sarah and Delia fussed over me. They went to the Ilkley Antiques Fair at 11 and dropped me at home. A quick change of clothes and I went back to Leeds to meet Jacq and Trixie at the Dragonara. First I went to the Y.W.C.A to pay my respects to Hayden, who begged me to find him a surgeon who might perform a head transplant on him.

Went with Jacq and Trixie to Whitelocks. We sat from 12:30 until 3 in the pleasant atmosphere of one of Leeds's finest and most ancient taverns. Afterwards we went to Trixie's room at the hotel for even more drink, and finally, at about 5:30 we left for Guiseley.

John and Maria had been round in the afternoon but we just missed seeing them. After dinner with the family we took Lynn & Dave to the Drop where we celebrated the coming wedding, minus 2 weeks. Pernod dribbled everywhere. Lynn was quite overcome by it all and had to go sit outside.

Back to Pine Tops afterwards.

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Friday August 25, 1978

Trixie came to stay at the Dragonara for the duration of the Bank holiday. This evening Jacq and I went to meet her at the hotel and we took her to Len's Bar where Sue Tirbutt was having a party. Trixie was in fighting form and looked fit and well while knocking back the usual pints of bitter. I introduced her to (Alan) Macgregor, who served in the Royal Navy with Derek Sate. Hayden came with Jacq. _________________. Jacq, Trixie, Hayden, Sarah, Carol J and I went to the Nouveau club at 11pm from Len's and stayed until about 2:30.

Trixie left for the Dragonara at about 1am but we stuck it out until the bitter end. Sarah was horribly pissed. At the end of the evening Jacq disappeared into the darkness with Hayden and Carol drove Sarah and I to West End Lane, Horsforth. We staggered and fell around in her kitchen and I made some ridiculous adjustments to her father's shopping list on the table. At about 3 I retired to the pink suite at Ivory Towers.


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Thursday August 24, 1978

St Bartholemew

Nightmare of a day. At about 8 this morning I sprained my ankle, or perhaps twisted it, down in Guiseley whilst going for my bus. I tripped on a crooked pavement and fell through the door of Rhodeses Newsagents shop and landed on a revolving Christmas card display, showering shoppers with cellophane, glitter covered robins, and grotesque Santa Clauses.

Wracked with pain for the rest of the day I staggered about the office to the moronic amusement of my colleagues. What with my arse, and now this.

Jacq dissolved when I told her. She came and collected me with a wheelchair and pushed me across to the Central for a quick anaesthetic. She cried with laughter. The swelling worsened in the afternoon and I had to resort to asking Papa to pick me up at the bus stop to ferry me home.

Reclined in the bath later. Found solace with Lady Chatterley at about 10:30. Dave B accused me harming my own ankle on purpose to avoid working at Lawn Road.

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