Saturday July 5, 1980

_. Up at 7. My earliest sighting of a Saturday in years. Busy morning at the YP. Just Carol and I running things. The only thing of importance in the news was a miserable explosion at Sherburn-in-Elmet. A reporter at the scene says a man was blown to pieces. Only his shoes were recognisable.

Home at 2. Mum and Dad were at West End Terrace all afternoon. I sat eating bacon and eggs watching Bjorn Borg v. McEnroe at Wimbledon on the BBC. Ally turned up with a bottle of Emva Cream. We watched the match together. Tennis, in normal circumstances, leaves me cold, but this match was gripping. The scruffy, narrow-eyed Swede won the title for the fourth year in succession. The workers returned from West End Terrace just in time for the climax.

Mum and Dad went to Cracoe at 8. Sue, Pete, Ally and I went to the White Cross to meet Chippy, Debbie and Dave W, and then on to to the Square and Compass. This place is a god send after the drab and deary WC and Shoulder. Joined by Ken, Olive and John Sumpton, hot from Paris, where he's been cultivating a head of hair. It's longer than Borg's. Slightly pissed back to Pine Tops where Mum was in bed with a headache, which cut short the evening. Cracoe had been crowned and seething, she said.

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