Tuesday November 5, 1974

Bonfire Night, &c, &c.

YP all day and then go to Birstall on the bus with Sarah, Michael Johnson and Carol. Michael and I make a 'Guy Fawkes' with old clothes whilst the girls mess about in the kitchen.

Start drinking at about 8 o'clock when the fire is lit, and in the space of two and a half hours Sarah and I polish off a bottle of Cinzano Bianco and a further half bottle of Dry Martini. As you may well imagine, Sarah had to sit down, being unable to stand any longer, and by midnight she could think of nothing else other escaping to a dark room and sleep. I joined her on Carol's bed where we lay shivering with cold 'neath Sarah's black fur coat. We debate for ages on how exactly Carol and Michael can possibly sleep under such conditions. We arrive at the conclusion that the Johnsons are a good deal larger, and undoubtedly more passionate than we are, and this can be the only reason. Sarah goes off into a southern drawl when she's intoxicated and it sounds acutely comical. We're in bed until 2am and Michael wakes us when our taxi arrives.

Home at a quarter to three with the picture of Sarah's lips firmly embedded upon my mind forever. The amiable lady in the taxi looked far less attractive when she asked for her £3.90 fare. To bed feeling horribly drunk and remember, but only vaguely, being sick. I blame the pate which I devoured - liver never agrees with me.

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