Wednesday March 1, 1978

St David (Wales)

Carole phoned this morning to ask if I intended visiting her today, but pressure of work deterred me. I told her I will go at 2 tomorrow. Tonight I compiled a letter to her and I will deliver it by hand tomorrow.

This evening I saw Marita again in Leeds and she brought me to Rawdon, and from there I completed my journey to Guiseley on foot. I should walk more often and perhaps I would be more fit to consume the vast meals that await me on my arrival home. I had a good talk with Marita about winning a fortune which was interesting. She doesn't approve of my dream of buying a Rolls-Royce Corniche,  even if after a £50,000 win on the Premium Bonds.

Christine phoned and suggested a visit to Oakwood Hall with her, Philip H and a work-mate called Marion, on Friday. I said yes even though my finances will be revoltingly low. This Marion may be a bit of alright, but on the other hand she may be ghastly. It's a risk all desperate bachelors like me have to take. To look on the bright side, no friend of Christine's could possibly be ugly.

At home we had great excitement. Peter brought a sun-ray lamp, heater, call it what you will, and we all had a 2 minute session underneath it. My face was tingling and Mum seems to think I've 'caught my cheeks' but somehow I feel sceptical about these gadgets. By 11 we had all had a go except Lynn, who was abed. According to the instructions, after 10 days treatment we'll all be nicely tanned. Bed at 11:30 with a drink and a copy of 'The Times'.

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Tuesday February 28, 1978

I'm not feeling very communicative, to be honest, but for your benefit I'll try to say something of interest.

A letter from dear Jacq awaits my attention. Blimey, she's done another Emily Bronte job. I'm considering bequeathing her mail to the British Museum after I've done with it.

Poor Uncle Jack (Myers) has been in hospital for treatment to his bowel, according to Auntie Mabel, but no further information is forthcoming. I've been thinking of writing to cousin Jackie but stop myself at the last minute. _____________.

Tonight I retired to bed at 11 with 'Sir Percy Hits Back' by old Mrs Orczy and let me state from the outset that the old dear has become increasingly dull over the past few weeks. 'I Will Repay' was excellent, but each novel in the Pimpernel series sinks lower in my estimation as I move down the line. That's my opinion. Anyway, I think the books are intended for 12 year-olds.



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Monday February 27, 1978

Hello people. Another bright, Spring like day with singing sparrows and all the usual band waggon.

Carole phoned me at the YP to say she's in Ward 11 of the (Leeds General) Infirmary. I'd forgotten she was going in this morning. At 2:30 I went to see her. She isn't remotely ill-looking and chats away in her famous style. She says she loathes __________. She wasn't wearing an engagement ring but I saw it concealed under the pillow of her bed! When I left she escorted me to the Town Hall (Yep, they even let her out into the streets).

Marita saw me on Wellington St and brought me to Guiseley. She's having something done with her car at Senior Smith's.

Steel: foul smelling.

John made a fleeting call this evening. He and Maria are going to Michelle's party on Saturday. ______.

Susie cut my hair tonight. She's done a great job and once again I look almost semi-Punk. It looks good, I can tell you.

Edith and Ernest didn't get the cottage in Devon but are definitely going to go south this year. Sad, eh?

Dad's been strange tonight. He looks pale. He's terribly out of shape. Fat and out of breath. Quiet too.

Saw the obnoxious David Steel MP on BBC1. He really is a sly, foul smelling being.

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