_. Have I mentioned the Chancellor's first budget? I must have forgotten. Good old Sir Geoffrey (Howe) has done something with income tax, but I have insufficient intellect to discuss it further.
David, now of Folkestone, is 24 today and I sent him an appropriate birthday card. Tonight I went with Ally and Sue to the Drop and then Oakwood Hall. Mrs Hanson, the buxom landlady of the Drop, commented that I was the most envied man in the pub (a reference to the beauty of Ally and Sue), but I corrected her saying surely they are the most envied women? Mrs H laughed about this a good deal. She laughed a little too long really.
At Oakwood I danced so much that my wrist watch steamed up and stopped. It will never be the same again. Peter came in with Chippy and Dave W. Sue met an imbecile named Tony who attempted to teach me the protocol of chatting up women. Can you imagine? Sue didn't let on that I was her brother, and so we had a laugh at his expense. Home at 2:30 pissed up on cider.
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20180611
Wednesday June 13, 1979
_. Peter finally sought parental consent to marry my sister in what can only be described as a dreadful, obnoxious and embarrassing scene this evening. He, the prospective groom, sat afterwards with the word Gloom engraved in capital letters across his forehead. A sense of strangulation hung over us. To escape the putrid atmosphere Alison and I decamped to the garden where we sat in damp deck chairs purporting to be searching for the poor, destitute missing tortoise. We went on a stroll into Guiseley calling at the off licence for a bottle of Martini.
No sense of excitement or joy was to be found back at home. Dave L telephoned to say he is moving to Folkestone. Is he on the run from someone or something? We discussed Christine B and her marriage and ended up on the subject of plastic buckets.
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No sense of excitement or joy was to be found back at home. Dave L telephoned to say he is moving to Folkestone. Is he on the run from someone or something? We discussed Christine B and her marriage and ended up on the subject of plastic buckets.
-=-
Tuesday June 12, 1979
_. I am seriously considering abandoning this journal once and for all. I am just a pathetic mess who has great difficulty in making interesting observations on any subject, either of domestic or national importance. Indeed, you'll find no reference here to President Carter's SALT 2 summit with that nice Mr Podgorny. I am a dead loss. A vast waste of time, ink, and energy goes into this and I really could and should be doing greater things.
Isaac Newton gave us the combustion engine; John Wayne gave us over six billion cowboy epics; Ngaio Marsh gave us all those wonderful 'Poldark' books and the Queen Mum has currently completed 55 years as head of our great Royal House. Just what have I achieved? Precisely, bugger all.
But stop this wallowing, Michael. Think what the neighbours are going through. Kenneth the tortoise has been missing for three days.
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Isaac Newton gave us the combustion engine; John Wayne gave us over six billion cowboy epics; Ngaio Marsh gave us all those wonderful 'Poldark' books and the Queen Mum has currently completed 55 years as head of our great Royal House. Just what have I achieved? Precisely, bugger all.
But stop this wallowing, Michael. Think what the neighbours are going through. Kenneth the tortoise has been missing for three days.
-=-
Monday June 11, 1979
_. A very historic day. I came home from work at 5pm and almost immediately Susie told me that she and Peter are to become engaged on her twentieth birthday and that they intend to marry next summer. I'm not too startled because it was obvious that the events of last week showed it was either make or break between them and things could not continue at stalemate and five years of courtship. They say they made this decision at Cracoe on Saturday, but Peter doesn't wish to make it public just yet. He, the coward, is terrified of coming straight out with it and seeking the consent from Mum and Dad. So we are all in the ridiculous position of knowing the news, but that it cannot be discussed openly.
So, this evening when Lynn and Dave came here for dinner we could talk of nothing but Ally's new job and the merits of mother's apple pie. Peter came here at 8 and stayed until after 10, and silence - dreadful silence - reigned. At 8:30 I escaped the cloister-like sitting room and paid a visit to Jim Rawnsley's house (No 50 Hawksworth Lane). I took him some information on George Cattermole, a Victorian water colourist. Jim bought a Cattermole picture at the weekend and he was intrigued by my findings. The precocious Jennie was on top form. Had a beer and looked at his collection of antiques. I do believe that Jim is a very shy man. Shy people make me very uneasy. I am only ever uneasy with shy people or archbishops. Back at home the silence continued. Alison and I kept looking at each other in that pathetic, helpless fashion more characteristic of sheep on moorland slopes. Peter left at 10:30 and I departed to bed.
-=-
So, this evening when Lynn and Dave came here for dinner we could talk of nothing but Ally's new job and the merits of mother's apple pie. Peter came here at 8 and stayed until after 10, and silence - dreadful silence - reigned. At 8:30 I escaped the cloister-like sitting room and paid a visit to Jim Rawnsley's house (No 50 Hawksworth Lane). I took him some information on George Cattermole, a Victorian water colourist. Jim bought a Cattermole picture at the weekend and he was intrigued by my findings. The precocious Jennie was on top form. Had a beer and looked at his collection of antiques. I do believe that Jim is a very shy man. Shy people make me very uneasy. I am only ever uneasy with shy people or archbishops. Back at home the silence continued. Alison and I kept looking at each other in that pathetic, helpless fashion more characteristic of sheep on moorland slopes. Peter left at 10:30 and I departed to bed.
-=-
Sunday June 10, 1979
_. Trinity Sunday
I am now out of the deck chair, but it is Sunday. Well, er, no. Actually we are fifteen minutes into Monday. Anyway, you probably can imagine what occurred today in the sun-drenched garden at Pine Tops. I sat in a heap reading Queen Mary (Bloody Mary, not Mary of Teck or Mrs William of Orange) and occasionally I dropped from a tree onto an unsuspecting Alison. Sue and Pete continue to play at dislocating each others hip and shoulder joints, and pounding each other with tennis balls. Mum and Dad had the good sense to avoid us completely by sitting at the front of the house and only communicating with us through the open dining room window. Very sensible.
Evidently, Alison and I disturbed Motherdear when we came in at 1am. She blamed my 'low pitched voice' which she said carries more than anyone else's. I'm quite happy and relieved to know I sound like Sir Geraint Evans, and not some revolting soprano.
At 6:30 to Lynn & Dave's for nosh and gallons of alcoholic refreshment. Lynn is positively blooming and glows like a little fluorescent light-bulb. She concocted a salad and we all joked and howled until nearly 12. Peter and I tend to become somewhat lewd. Alison and I sat together like an old established couple. It is as if we have always been together. A boy called Mark from Martyr Worthy has called her twice since she arrived on Friday. I feel jealous, yes jealous.
-=-
I am now out of the deck chair, but it is Sunday. Well, er, no. Actually we are fifteen minutes into Monday. Anyway, you probably can imagine what occurred today in the sun-drenched garden at Pine Tops. I sat in a heap reading Queen Mary (Bloody Mary, not Mary of Teck or Mrs William of Orange) and occasionally I dropped from a tree onto an unsuspecting Alison. Sue and Pete continue to play at dislocating each others hip and shoulder joints, and pounding each other with tennis balls. Mum and Dad had the good sense to avoid us completely by sitting at the front of the house and only communicating with us through the open dining room window. Very sensible.
Evidently, Alison and I disturbed Motherdear when we came in at 1am. She blamed my 'low pitched voice' which she said carries more than anyone else's. I'm quite happy and relieved to know I sound like Sir Geraint Evans, and not some revolting soprano.
At 6:30 to Lynn & Dave's for nosh and gallons of alcoholic refreshment. Lynn is positively blooming and glows like a little fluorescent light-bulb. She concocted a salad and we all joked and howled until nearly 12. Peter and I tend to become somewhat lewd. Alison and I sat together like an old established couple. It is as if we have always been together. A boy called Mark from Martyr Worthy has called her twice since she arrived on Friday. I feel jealous, yes jealous.
-=-
Saturday June 9, 1979
_. Up at about 10:30 and waved goodbye to Mum and Dad who went off to St Anne's for the day.
Sue & Peter now 'very much in love' and slobbering over each other, were pelting tennis balls at each other in the garden with all the fury of Ukrainian shot-putters. I put it down to the frustration of the past couple of weeks. They departed to Cracoe near Skipton for luncheon.
Alison and I had breakfast together and then went to look at a house in Haworth. I have never been to inspect a house before and it proved embarrassing. The house (£5,000) had been decorated by a family with the imagination of otters, and the interior resembled Windscale Nuclear Power Station. They, who were selling, seemed terrified, and stood wide-eyed, like rabbits in the headlights, nervously nudging each other. We went into the Black Bull for a few drinks and to discuss the property. I am as knowledgeable on this topic as I am on early Italian literature.
At 3pm we went on to Oakwood (not the hall) and then to an estate agent in Keighley. Ally is definitely bitten by the house-buying bug. It felt good dashing across the countryside with Ally in her little car. As you know, I am almost totally besotted by her.
Home for 5pm and sat with Sue & Pete the love birds. Susan without Peter is like lager without blackcurrant or Hitler without Eva Braun. The four of us went up to the Cow and Calf where I spent over £2 on a round of drinks. The girls were on massive port and lemons. Half pints of port at 90p a gulp! On to the Red Lion at Burley-in-W and then, as a grand finale, to the Prachee Indian at White Cross. Did a good deal of laughing, observing the other drunken diners. Home at almost 1am.
-=-
Sue & Peter now 'very much in love' and slobbering over each other, were pelting tennis balls at each other in the garden with all the fury of Ukrainian shot-putters. I put it down to the frustration of the past couple of weeks. They departed to Cracoe near Skipton for luncheon.
Alison and I had breakfast together and then went to look at a house in Haworth. I have never been to inspect a house before and it proved embarrassing. The house (£5,000) had been decorated by a family with the imagination of otters, and the interior resembled Windscale Nuclear Power Station. They, who were selling, seemed terrified, and stood wide-eyed, like rabbits in the headlights, nervously nudging each other. We went into the Black Bull for a few drinks and to discuss the property. I am as knowledgeable on this topic as I am on early Italian literature.
At 3pm we went on to Oakwood (not the hall) and then to an estate agent in Keighley. Ally is definitely bitten by the house-buying bug. It felt good dashing across the countryside with Ally in her little car. As you know, I am almost totally besotted by her.
Home for 5pm and sat with Sue & Pete the love birds. Susan without Peter is like lager without blackcurrant or Hitler without Eva Braun. The four of us went up to the Cow and Calf where I spent over £2 on a round of drinks. The girls were on massive port and lemons. Half pints of port at 90p a gulp! On to the Red Lion at Burley-in-W and then, as a grand finale, to the Prachee Indian at White Cross. Did a good deal of laughing, observing the other drunken diners. Home at almost 1am.
-=-
Friday June 8, 1979
_. Sarah and I went to Len's Bar and drank gin and tonic in the gloom of the crypt-like wine bar. The prices are quite ridiculous. £1 for two miserable drinks! We talked about Jacq. Evidently I am labelled 'the Iceberg'.
Tonight: Susan hadn't heard a word from Peter and so at 7 Ally and I went to Morrison's so that she could cash a cheque for £25 and then we had a quick one at the Crown in Yeadon before collecting Sue at 8 o'clock. We intended going to the Drop Inn but half way down the lane (in the Spitfire) we passed Peter driving in the opposite direction. Sue immediately joined him and we went to the Drop together. Back home at 11:30. Mum held her silence and tripped off to bed shaking her head.
-=-
Tonight: Susan hadn't heard a word from Peter and so at 7 Ally and I went to Morrison's so that she could cash a cheque for £25 and then we had a quick one at the Crown in Yeadon before collecting Sue at 8 o'clock. We intended going to the Drop Inn but half way down the lane (in the Spitfire) we passed Peter driving in the opposite direction. Sue immediately joined him and we went to the Drop together. Back home at 11:30. Mum held her silence and tripped off to bed shaking her head.
-=-
Thursday June 7, 1979
_. I cannot write much because I'm slung between two deck chairs in the garden and it doesn't encourage me to scribe in any way. (By the way, it isn't Thursday. I left this page blank and have come back to it a few days later. In fact, it's the weekend and that's why I am in a deck chair).
I met Jacq at lunchtime at Len's Bar. I told her of Sarah and Richard's split, and a gleam appeared in her eye. Will Mr Burke, now free, escape Jacq's grasp?
Alison arrived at about 6pm to take up her new existence in Yorkshire. Mrs Dixon phoned Mum this morning and was quite upset by her daughter's departure. It is all for the best. Lynn and David B came a couple of hours later and so too did Jim & Margaret. ([Papa just walked past with a box full of lawn clippings and I am now a sticky mass of green. Some people have an odd sense of humour, don't they?)
Back to Thursday: Susan was out with Janet Simon at the Fox until about 10. I felt exhausted and by midnight and made my exit from the company. As I went I overheard people saying 'he has no stamina' and that 'it must be his age'.
-=-
I met Jacq at lunchtime at Len's Bar. I told her of Sarah and Richard's split, and a gleam appeared in her eye. Will Mr Burke, now free, escape Jacq's grasp?
Alison arrived at about 6pm to take up her new existence in Yorkshire. Mrs Dixon phoned Mum this morning and was quite upset by her daughter's departure. It is all for the best. Lynn and David B came a couple of hours later and so too did Jim & Margaret. ([Papa just walked past with a box full of lawn clippings and I am now a sticky mass of green. Some people have an odd sense of humour, don't they?)
Back to Thursday: Susan was out with Janet Simon at the Fox until about 10. I felt exhausted and by midnight and made my exit from the company. As I went I overheard people saying 'he has no stamina' and that 'it must be his age'.
-=-
Wednesday June 6, 1979
_. The Queen failed to win the Derby and I lost 50p because of it. Some upstart by the name of Willie Carson riding Troy achieved victory by seven heads, or was it seven lengths? It certainly wasn't seven arm chairs or seven salmon sandwiches. King Edward VII is the only sovereign to have won the Derby, but no doubt our own dear Queen will succeed one day. Saw HM on the news at last night's concert in honour of Sir Robert Mayer's 100th birthday and thought how wonderful it would be if she could live to climb out of bed on the morning of April 21, 2026, in the 75th year of her reign. To equal Victoria's 64 years she has to live to be a mere 89, which isn't an impossibility. The Queen Mother must stay with us until she's 85 years 304 days to be our longest lived Queen Consort. The present record holder here is the Queen's grandmother, Queen Mary. Crikey, I could go on all night with royal statistics.
Alison phoned tonight and confirmed she is moving north tomorrow. She has put a letter in the post to Mama, but it has yet to arrive here. She starts working in Bradford on Monday. She didn't sound enthusiastic ____________.
Mummy has given me detailed instructions on how to behave and conduct myself when Ally is here. A sort of 'Scarborough warning' which made me feel almost like a small child, or unruly Labour Cabinet minister on the carpet at Number 10. In fact, Mother was in one of her critical moods all evening and was quite ridiculous. Most of the time I think her flared tempers can be laid at the door of high blood pressure, so I don't put such flare ups down to insanity.
On the other hand Dad is too placid for comfort. He would make an ideal archbishop of Canterbury. In fact, when old Dr Cobweb retires in January I really think that Dad should put himself forward for election. Just one problem here. He says he's a Methodist, whatever that is.
To bed at 11:15 after viewing the running of the Derby no fewer than seventeen times. A hoodlum hurled a toilet roll at Yves St Martin and he rocketed around Epsom trailing ten yards of Andrex behind him.
Came to bed with 'Bloody Mary' by Carolly Erickson. She must be an American writer because she is almost illiterate. "The duchess of Norfolk and marchioness of Salisbury fell from favour", &c. Don't they do capital letters in Pennsylvania?
-=-
Alison phoned tonight and confirmed she is moving north tomorrow. She has put a letter in the post to Mama, but it has yet to arrive here. She starts working in Bradford on Monday. She didn't sound enthusiastic ____________.
Mummy has given me detailed instructions on how to behave and conduct myself when Ally is here. A sort of 'Scarborough warning' which made me feel almost like a small child, or unruly Labour Cabinet minister on the carpet at Number 10. In fact, Mother was in one of her critical moods all evening and was quite ridiculous. Most of the time I think her flared tempers can be laid at the door of high blood pressure, so I don't put such flare ups down to insanity.
On the other hand Dad is too placid for comfort. He would make an ideal archbishop of Canterbury. In fact, when old Dr Cobweb retires in January I really think that Dad should put himself forward for election. Just one problem here. He says he's a Methodist, whatever that is.
To bed at 11:15 after viewing the running of the Derby no fewer than seventeen times. A hoodlum hurled a toilet roll at Yves St Martin and he rocketed around Epsom trailing ten yards of Andrex behind him.
Came to bed with 'Bloody Mary' by Carolly Erickson. She must be an American writer because she is almost illiterate. "The duchess of Norfolk and marchioness of Salisbury fell from favour", &c. Don't they do capital letters in Pennsylvania?
-=-
Tuesday June 5, 1979
_. Further horrible and traumatic developments regarding Susan and Peter. He came waltzing in here at 8pm saying nuthin', and for a few moments we sat in embarrassed silence. I pulled my volume on Bloody Mary closer to my face and peered at the scene from page 195. Susan leapt from her chair and dragged him outside only to return after minutes alone, and Peterless. Like Neville Chamberlain she has been issuing ultimatums. ___________. I think it has come down to this - 'the lads or Susan'. He's going to have to pick Sue. After all can 'the lads' comfort you in sickness and in health, make Yorkshire puddings, or raise your fat, bouncing blue-eyed children?
On the topic of broken romances, Sarah has gone and kicked Mr Richard Burke into touch. She's been going about the office threatening to jump from the roof and behaving generally irresponsibly all round. Once again it falls to me to bind her wounds and restore some level of sanity and stability into her existence.
Alison is supposed to be coming here on Thursday. She got the job at Bradford Area Health Authority and has been in touch with Lynn, but we have heard nothing.
What a soddin' week. Christine's cataclysmic tidings; Sue and Peter's dispute; Sarah's delicate matter. Whatever next? Oh yes. The sudden rise to power of the Ayatollah Rawnsley. No doubt his revolutionary council will be executing NALGO members in City Square.
To be at 12 with Mary Tudor. Is the Queen going to win the Derby tomorrow?
-=-
On the topic of broken romances, Sarah has gone and kicked Mr Richard Burke into touch. She's been going about the office threatening to jump from the roof and behaving generally irresponsibly all round. Once again it falls to me to bind her wounds and restore some level of sanity and stability into her existence.
Alison is supposed to be coming here on Thursday. She got the job at Bradford Area Health Authority and has been in touch with Lynn, but we have heard nothing.
What a soddin' week. Christine's cataclysmic tidings; Sue and Peter's dispute; Sarah's delicate matter. Whatever next? Oh yes. The sudden rise to power of the Ayatollah Rawnsley. No doubt his revolutionary council will be executing NALGO members in City Square.
To be at 12 with Mary Tudor. Is the Queen going to win the Derby tomorrow?
-=-
Monday June 4, 1979
_. Bank Holiday in Irish Republic
Back to the YP this morning feeling grubby and greasy from my weekend away. ________.
Read in the paper this evening that Jim Rawnsley is to succeed Ken Potts as Chief Executive of Leeds City Council, although Jim says he won't assume that title or take the extra £3,000 per annum. Posh, isn't it? Going to work chauffeured by the top brass at Leeds City Council. "My Chauffeur is the Chief executive" sounds like the opening line of a Victorian music hall song.
Uncle Arnold's visit in greater detail: he arrived looking pale and thin, saying he could not get dad out of his mind so that he had to come and see him. Mum invited him to the Silver Wedding party and he leapt at the chance to see us all again._____. He insisted on referring to Mum as 'Duchess' in the charming manner the Rhodes gents have.
-=-
Back to the YP this morning feeling grubby and greasy from my weekend away. ________.
Read in the paper this evening that Jim Rawnsley is to succeed Ken Potts as Chief Executive of Leeds City Council, although Jim says he won't assume that title or take the extra £3,000 per annum. Posh, isn't it? Going to work chauffeured by the top brass at Leeds City Council. "My Chauffeur is the Chief executive" sounds like the opening line of a Victorian music hall song.
Uncle Arnold's visit in greater detail: he arrived looking pale and thin, saying he could not get dad out of his mind so that he had to come and see him. Mum invited him to the Silver Wedding party and he leapt at the chance to see us all again._____. He insisted on referring to Mum as 'Duchess' in the charming manner the Rhodes gents have.
-=-
Sunday June 3, 1979
_. Whit Sunday
Up at 11:30 for one of Dave granddad's greasy breakfasts. Quite exceptional they are. At 12 we were transplanted from the dining room to the bar for the ritual of Sunday drinking. Joined by Garry and Steve (from a game of tennis) and then Neil (the Hulk) and Willy. By now I'm in the embarrassing position of being out of cash and have to rely on charity. Dave didn't give me the £2 he owes me until the second before my departure because he says he knows what I am like with money. Only the Prince of Wales and I can go out into the world without a single penny piece in our pockets.
At 2:30 we ate one of Lil's Sunday dinners (lamb) and then went for a walk in Alexandra Park and collapsed, sweating upon a park bench for almost an hour. Then, on to Garry's where we sat in his garden with cups of tea. Garry's dad is something of a joke, and we sat sniggering. Garry was sprawled upon a camp bed virtually naked.
They (the boys) came with me to Manchester at 7pm and we had a few more pints. Then it was bye bye, and over the Pennines and back to Guiseley. Home by 11. The family are sitting around looking quite miserable. Uncle Arnold called to see them yesterday after a lapse of almost 5 years. Upstairs my old bed had disappeared and the Victorian article, from the Baker family, is erected in place. I'm now going to try it out.
-=-
Up at 11:30 for one of Dave granddad's greasy breakfasts. Quite exceptional they are. At 12 we were transplanted from the dining room to the bar for the ritual of Sunday drinking. Joined by Garry and Steve (from a game of tennis) and then Neil (the Hulk) and Willy. By now I'm in the embarrassing position of being out of cash and have to rely on charity. Dave didn't give me the £2 he owes me until the second before my departure because he says he knows what I am like with money. Only the Prince of Wales and I can go out into the world without a single penny piece in our pockets.
At 2:30 we ate one of Lil's Sunday dinners (lamb) and then went for a walk in Alexandra Park and collapsed, sweating upon a park bench for almost an hour. Then, on to Garry's where we sat in his garden with cups of tea. Garry's dad is something of a joke, and we sat sniggering. Garry was sprawled upon a camp bed virtually naked.
They (the boys) came with me to Manchester at 7pm and we had a few more pints. Then it was bye bye, and over the Pennines and back to Guiseley. Home by 11. The family are sitting around looking quite miserable. Uncle Arnold called to see them yesterday after a lapse of almost 5 years. Upstairs my old bed had disappeared and the Victorian article, from the Baker family, is erected in place. I'm now going to try it out.
-=-
Saturday June 2, 1979
_. Out of bed at nearly lunchtime. Dave was hung over. He took a couple of headache pills to smooth the ridges of his aching brain. Joined by Garry we went off for a jaunt in the sun across Stockport. Of course, we stopped off at a pleasant tavern for refreshment. Dave was extremely pale. He started to sweat and almost collapsed. Most unhealthy.
Tonight: Out to Enzo's Pizzeria with Dave Garry and Steve. Dave and I had pizzas, but Garry and Steve demanded something 'English'. God knows what Garry will eat in Ibiza.
Afterwards it was more booze and a farewell to Steve who didn't want to join us at a disco. I was refused entry into 'Rumours' because of my dress which wasn't up to standard apparently. They classed my Lee Cooper trousers as jeans. So we went to 'Ups and Downs', which perhaps should really be called 'Down and Unders'. Never have I been to such a diabolical, atrocious and rough club. Drunken old tarts and heavily tattooed yobs filled the place. I had that niggling feeling throughout that I was about to have my head kicked in. We had a few drinks and a view of that other world of vice and poverty.
-=-
Tonight: Out to Enzo's Pizzeria with Dave Garry and Steve. Dave and I had pizzas, but Garry and Steve demanded something 'English'. God knows what Garry will eat in Ibiza.
Afterwards it was more booze and a farewell to Steve who didn't want to join us at a disco. I was refused entry into 'Rumours' because of my dress which wasn't up to standard apparently. They classed my Lee Cooper trousers as jeans. So we went to 'Ups and Downs', which perhaps should really be called 'Down and Unders'. Never have I been to such a diabolical, atrocious and rough club. Drunken old tarts and heavily tattooed yobs filled the place. I had that niggling feeling throughout that I was about to have my head kicked in. We had a few drinks and a view of that other world of vice and poverty.
-=-
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Wednesday May 9, 1984
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