Saturday January 14, 1978

Sun rises 08:01 Sun sets 16:19

Clementine: eye balls donated.

Out of bed at eleven not too worse for the amount of alcoholic beverage taken in last night. I found Dad inspecting the rabbit. He congratulated me on the kill. "A fine buck" is his professional verdict.

The morning papers reveal that the 'vandal' Lady Churchill donated her eye balls to medical science, and now some poor, unsuspecting soul is walking around with the eyes which saw more of Sir Winston than anybody else. I'm not sure I like this. It all rings of Baron Frankenstein. Very ghoulish. How long before famous singers pass on their voice boxes to carry on their musical talents after death? I always wanted to be a Beatle. Perhaps I could be first in the queue when Paul McCartney goes?

Shopping in Guiseley with Lynn. After a couple of hours we walked to the Station Hotel for a thirst quencher. Her wedding chatter is now at fever pitch. Blimey, it's only 34 weeks until the 'Big Day' so it's not exactly premature excitement.

Pete M phoned tonight but I explained how broke I am, and so that was that. A night at home, sitting like Jimmy Carter by my fireside. 'Starsky & Hutch' on the box too. Oh, how thoroughly delightful. Bloody Hell, no wonder the pubs are packed on Saturday nights. The only people to be found indoors on these long, wintry evenings are the crippled, bed-ridden and penniless. In case you're wondering, I fit into the last category. Sat and read the Scarlet Pimpernel. Watched Hedy Lamarr in a 1940 epic. Bed afterwards.




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Sunday October 16, 1977

19th after Trinity. Warm and sunny in Lancashire. I'm not pulling your leg either. I was aroused (in more ways than one) at about 10.30. Pete M, Michelle, John (Grady) and I were lying in a line on a strange sitting room floor underneath one solitary blanket. I felt fresh and awake and John was cheery but Michelle never regained consciousness. Pete was dead to the world too. Sue and Pete are the hardy type, well used to this lifestyle by now. Tea, toast and hysterics followed, and then John took us on a walk around the local rubbish tip (littered with contraceptives, I might add), whilst the hostess, Kathleen, cleared up the devastation.

At 12 we found a pub again and supped and made merry for a couple of hours. Laughed about the events of last night. I met a delightful young lady who helped me to sing tracks from the 'Sgt Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band' LP by the Beatles after which we sat in one another's arms on the settee covered by a warm, concealing continental quilt. Quite bliss, don't you think? Well, it would have been but for one slight flaw. The woman in question was married, and what's more her husband was sitting in the very same room scowling and shooting disapproving looks at the pair of us. Anyway, I sat next to the pair of them in the pub this afternoon and the husband was very friendly with me. I think the young lady had no idea what happened last night. She was so gone.

From here we found one of those hideous Kentucky Fried Chicken places where more hilarity followed. I called Michelle 'Pinky' and invited her to join the others when they come over to see us in a few weeks time.

Sue, Pete, Chris, Pete M and I left for home at about 4.30 and half way home we encountered the fog once again. The weather was ghastly at home.

Just watched TV tonight. Tony phoned.

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Monday September 13, 1976

Harry takes me to the bus stop at 8.15 and I bid him farewell until we next meet. Sure has been a good weekend. Feel something like how Richard Burton must feel like after he's been on the bottle for three or four days on end. I shall have to go to some sort of hydro to dry out my pickled liver, or kidneys [indeed which ever organs succumb to pickling after the consumption of vast quantities of alcohol].

Ring Lynne at lunchtime but her boss reminds me she's on a course this week in Bradford. Also ring home: still no developments from Maria. My nephew is four days late now.

Back at home: ring Lynne at Auntie Lilian's at 8.30 but she isn't in. Start watching a Dirk Bogarde film and it's midnight before I think of phoning again. Aunt Lil would probably have a coronary at this time of night.

Continue reading 'The Beatles' by Hunter Davies. Feeling shagged out still.

The Davina Mary Sheffield saga gathers momentum. We [Joe public] should read nothing into this until Buckingham Palace issues a denial. They only issue denials to cover up the truth. I approve of her anyway, even if one reader writing in the EP thinks 'Queen Davina' sounds odd.

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Thursday September 9, 1976

The day that could have been the most eventful day of the year went by without any news from Maria. Dad saw her this lunchtime and he says she had visited the doctor and he's now arranged to see her on Tuesday. Oh God I can't stand all this waiting. Anyone would think it was my baby she is having [don't even think about it].

Stagger to work with what might be termed a 'hangover'. Feel bloody awful. Tell Kathleen my decision to pack in at noon and she offers up no opposition. I get a bus at 12 o'clock and get home for lunch at 12.45. Mum is on edge about Maria. It must be a terrible experience becoming a grandparent at 41. Blimey, in 20 years time I could be 'grandad' material!

By late afternoon I've recovered and by the time Lynne gets here at 7pm I'm in good shape. We go to the Red Lion at Burley [in Whafredale] with Sue & Pete where we see Naomi, Carole and another girl. On to the Rose & Crown in Ilkley and meet Tony and Stuart. At 10 o'clock the four of us go on to Oakwood Hall for a couple of hours. It resembles a scene from the new Hitchcock epic 'Carry On Up the Black Hole of Calcutta'. Ghastly. Tempers were frayed. Home at 12.30 and to bed with Hunter Davies's The Beatles'.

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Wednesday September 1, 1976

To W.H. Smith's straight from work and hang about chatting to Denise until Tony finishes at 5.00. She isn't all that friendly and gives me strange looks. _______.

Back to [Tony's] flat and have chops, spuds and peas for tea. Tony is in high spirits and jives around in the kitchen like a regular little Fanny Cradock. Go to the cinema at 7 to see 'Shout at the Devil' starring Roger Moore and Lee Marvin. Very good.

Home at 12.30 after coffee at the flat. Bring home a biography of the Beatles with me and read it sitting propped up in bed. Quite a remarkable story really - especially when you see what backgrounds they came from.

Mum and Dad not speaking at all tonight. Papa must be over-working. His treatment of Mama last night is unjustifiable & insane.

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Sunday September 7, 1975

15th after Trinity. Wake up on the sofa at Dunedin House with my arms round the most beautiful girl in the world. That was 7am. Feel as though I'm dying with 'dog disease' and the symptoms are very similar to those I suffered from in Windsor last September. John and 'George' are upstairs and I persuaded Carole to go investigate. John comes down at about 7.15 and we both leave for home. Mum will be worried sick if she has just happened to go into our room. The poor soul will be thinking we are dead, or something.

Crawl into bed at 7.30 and sleep until nearly 2pm, when Mum comes in to say that lunch is about ready. She did call in on us at 6am when Dad was leaving for work and was worried, as I thought she would be. I told her that Maria had had a party and at the last minute we decided to stay over. Chicken for lunch followed by a much needed cup of coffee in the lounge in front of an ailing Gary Cooper film.

At 4.30 we both go back to 'George's' where I sit about playing old Beatles LPs whilst the girls get out of bed! Lazy devils that they are. They even had me making cups of tea while they sat propped up in bed. Not forgetting the mountains of coconut cake which they quickly demolished. At about 5 we decided to go off for a walk over the moors taking Prinney with us. John, of course, had to go as far as Thorpe Lane in the car, but we, the four of us, managed to do a lengthy all round trip of Hawksworth. It was such a great afternoon. Carole was wearing her large 'oil rig' type shoes, and thus kept falling on her back in the brambles and heather - much to my advantage I can tell you.

At about 7 we got back to our place where the four of us had tea. 'George' asked of Mum was artistic because she'd laid the table in such a nice way. I must admit, I've never noticed this before, but on reflection I must agree. Mum and Dad go off to see Auntie Hilda, &c. and we all play records and watch an Orson Welles film. Prinney came back too, and Dad quite took to him. I'm looking forward indeed to getting a dog.

We have a great time really and I'm getting to love Carole even more so now. Today will go down as one of my favourite days of all time.

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Wednesday July 4, 1973

Independence Day, USA. Prince Michael of Kent, 31. Go to school for another terribly boring day. Christine and I sit listening to the Sgt Peppers album by the Beatles. Totally sick of it after a week of the same old thing.

Came home at nearly 5 o'clock after getting a new book entitled: 'The Princesses Royal', which is a biography of all the six women who have held this title. The title can be created at the discretion of the Sovereign and it has always been bestowed on the eldest daughter. The title fell abeyant in 1965 with the death of Princess Mary, Countess of Harewood. I expect that the Queen will one day make Princess Anne the Princess Royal. In fact, it would not surprise me in the least if Her Majesty did this on the eve of her daughters wedding in November. I suspect that Nov 13, 1973 will be the date that Princess Anne becomes the Princess Royal.

See 'Coronation Street' - Bette Lynch is found attacked at 8. Have to wait till Monday to see what happened to her.

Bed at 10.35.

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Monday July 2, 1973

Got up very thirsty at 7.0. My throat feels as though it's been cut! Leave for school on the 9 o'clock bus. Forget Denny's material for Italy. Arrive 9.30. What an exceedingly boring day it was which followed. Played "Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Heart's Club Band" by Beatles (1967) - all day! Christine was nearly driven to insanity.

Go to Rawdon library at 2.15. Get a biography of the Duke of Edinburgh by his cousin Queen Alexandra of Yugoslavia - it's supposed to be a family portrait - but one comes across the same old material in all his biographies. Indeed, Booth gives more details of HRH's private life than does his own cousin, Her Majesty the Queen of Yugoslavia.

See Bill Dixon, Brian Jilkes and Andy Dale at Micklefield. Have a laugh. Back at Benton at 3.30. Christine has made butties for the cricket tournament - I have a salmon sandwich.

Talk with Mary, the good-old cleaner - what a girl she is! Christine and I spend half an hour with her.

Home at 5.30. Go to the Fleece at 8. June and Susan arrive. Sit with an old man who buys us drinks and shows us old photos of his school class. Move on to the beer garden at the Brown Cow. Sit under a shaky looking umberella - June and Susan argue about their sister and her bad-tempered hubby, John. Walk around Horsforth, arriving at the main road at 11.30 - missed the last bus. Ring Mama who subsequently rings Dad at work and he picks John and I up in the police car at 12.20. Home by 12.30.

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