Saturday April 4, 1981

 _. New Moon

Grand National Day. Ally put 25p each wayon the winning horse, and scooped over £3. My horse refused half way round the course. Mum's set off in the opposite direction. 

I spent most of the day up a ladder in the cold painting the windows.

Tonight Ally and I dined with Mum and Dad, and Ally stayed over in her suite. At midnight, in my bed, she handed me the first of my birthday presents, viz: [1] a new watch bracelet, [2] The Old Man of Lochnagar, by the Prince of Wales. My birthday card is a painting by Beryl Cook entitled 'My New Fur Coat'. We sat giggling. I do not feel twenty-six.

-=-

Thursday April 5, 1979

_. To work by omnibus ~ I missed Jim because of my birthday hangover. Did minimal work and devoured a coffee and walnut cake  from fair Aunt Delia. Cards from Sarah and Eileen saying "to our favourite pain in the neck". I like it. I would like to be remembered as a favourite pain in the neck by everyone. Anything is better than blending in with the woodwork. Felt ghastly all day. At 12:30 I met Mum & Dad, Lynn and Dave at Len's Bar for drinks and sandwiches. Saran and Eileen came over for an hour but it was a very quiet affair. Dad was especially quiet because he came straight to Leeds from a colleague's funeral. Pall bearer for Albert Shaw to party-goer with Michael Rhodes. Lynn drank Pernod. Alison was the main subject of conversation once again. Lynn can be very vicious. I'm sure she's Yorkshire Light Aircraft's answer to Henry VIII.

On to Morrison's and then on to Lawn Road for drinks. Jim and Margaret came too. At 9 I joined Peter, Chippy, Dave W and Neil Addyman at the White Cross. Drank vast amounts of Pernod and lager and then went to Oakwood. Addyman was just back from skiing in Gstaad, or somewhere. Was drunk, but an uneventful night. Smoked lots of Embassy cigarettes and didn't dance with anyone. "Come on, it's your birthday!" didn't move me one bit. Home horribly late.

-=-

Saturday March 24, 1979

_. The Nasons threw a party for Peter's 21st. We went down there at 9 o'clock. A merry throng was assembled, including Peter's 80 year-old grandmother, who is sweet. I told Chippy I am posting him a bill for a new pair of trousers. Drank far too many Harvey Wallbangers. Pissed. Danced a good deal but didn't have much room for manoeuvre.

-=-

Tuesday March 20, 1979

_. Party at Pine Tops. Arrived home from work and found Lynn, Mum, Dad, Peter & Sue singing and dancing in the dining room. Within minutes I was sipping a gin and orange and playing at being a disc jockey.

Dave B came straight from work and Mum, enthusiastic as ever, attacked him, tearing the buttons off his shirt and stuffing a rolled up newspaper down his trousers. I suspect he had print from the Daily Telegraph all over his underpants. They had all been out to the Woolpack at lunchtime and Lynn hadn't even bothered going back to work. My mother is a terrible influence.

Jim and Margaret were telephoned and they arrived within minutes. Sue and Pete went to Flashman's for dinner. Lynn and Mum were soon on black coffee, but we had to send out for more whisky when the supplies became dangerously low. Sue & Pete were back at 11 and he proceeded to vomit as he stepped through the door. Dining out when riddled with gastroenteritis is hardly a wise move. But appearances have to be kept up on these anniversaries haven't they?

Bed at some hideous hour after cleaning up the debris for poor mother. My head feels like a Louis XIV commode.

-=-

Tuesday March 6, 1979

_. Lynn's 21st birthday. Tonight we went out to nosh and make merry at the Coniston at Idle, near Bradford. Alison and John came. It seems as though a reunion has taken place __________________________. The party goers tonight were Mum, Dad, Lynn, Dave, Sue, Pete, Alison John P, Audrey, Henry, Chris Baker, Julie Harris, Richard & Mandy Baker, and me. I wasn't feeling in a celebratory spirit. I do not like the Coniston one bit. I felt the same last time I came here in 1975 for Susan's 16th birthday. The joint is more like a motorway service station café than a restaurant, and to be honest it just isn't worth it. I sat hurling packs of butter at Peter, which played havoc with the surface of the dance floor. I was the only member of the party without a partner, so I had to do something. Blimey, is this how I'm going to go through life?

-=-

Tuesday January 2, 1979

Bank Holiday in Scotland

Dame Gracie Fields.

Mum and Dad's birthday. Snow, bright and clear. Back to the YP for the first time since before Christmas. The New Year Honours list is piled up on my desk. I suspect that they've only given the DBE to Gracie Fields in the hope that the shock might kill her. What a cruel, evil sense of humour I have. Hugh Scanlon is to be made a peer. They might as well make Karl Marx a posthumous Marquess. I don't know why I'm mocking and ridiculing the honours system because really I am all for it.

Tonight. No buses arrive and I don't get home until 6. John, Maria, JPH, Lynn & Dave came to dinner. Sue and Pete of course, too. JPH says his middle name is "Fillet". His swearing has subsided, but he does tend to slap and bash people. Mum succumbed to several heavy blows.

A happy family dinner. Just the tonic for ailing Mum. I gave them both (birthday) cards but no presents. Everybody else seems to have been able to scrape cash together for gifts, but as usual I miscalculated. They don't mind. I told them I'm buying them something on Thursday.

John and Maria left at 10. Late for taking JPH to bed. He managed to burst every balloon in the house and strip the Christmas tree of its pine needles.

Splashed around in the bath. Took to my bed at 1:26am.

-=-

Monday September 25, 1978

John's 22nd birthday. In Stranraer ~ no doubt knee deep in heather, haggis and Moira Anderson. I couldn't think of a more ghastly fate. He received his birthday parcel because Dad ran into Molly and she told him they'd been to Ayr Races and had called to see John and Maria at Lochans at the weekend and his presents were displayed in the caravan. __________.

I met Jacq on Wellington Street at lunchtime and she handed over Sue's shoes and trousers, borrowed on various occasions after 'orgious' activities, &c.

We are going to Lawn Road for tea on Wednesday. Mum and Dad spent the evening with Lynn & Dave tonight, while Sue, Pete and I sat bunched in front of the TV here. I buried myself in Toland's 'Adolf Hitler'. I'm reading about his escapades in the 1920s at the moment.

I poked around in the kitchen undecided about just what to devour and finally gulped down a jar of glacé cherries. To bed at 11.

Note: I knew that Mary Malcolm, the ancient broadcaster, was a granddaughter of Lillie Langtry, but had no idea that Mary's grandfather was H.S.H. Prince Louis of Battenberg, 1st Marquess of Milford Haven.

-=-

Wednesday June 14, 1978

Happy Birthday, David Ian Lawson. And other than this I am afraid I have nothing else to say to any of you today. It hurts me because you know how I hate leaving large, white blank spaces. I'm simply lacking in the old grey material this afternoon and the fourteenth day of June leaves me cold. The weather wasn't up to much and I was closeted away in the confines of the YP for the entire day which cannot do much to alleviate your bordedom so I'll just say bye bye. Bye Bye then.

-=-

Tuesday June 13, 1978

Moon's first quarter 23:44

St Barnabas (transference)

I made Dave L a birthday card today and had to wait outside next to the post box this evening holding it my hand (as well as the card) to hand it to the postman because it was too large to insert in the box. The card, made by me, has a glossy, headscarf clad photo of the smiling Queen (taken at Badminton in April) on the front. I also compiled a little verse inside. It should amuse David anyway, and one thing's fore sure ~ he won't have a duplicate of this on his doormat tomorrow morning.

Today is Lynne Mather's 21st.


To Lynne, on this, your coming of Age


O' Lynne Mather, it's your birthday once more,
And it only seems yesterday that you were four,
With big glowing teeth, and glossy hair,
you don't resemble a mountain bear.

Oh no, tis something more regal and fine,
a good Regency chair or an old gold mine?

A description of you cannot be penned,
Unless by Byron, Wordsworth and friends,
For the likes of you, will always be,
Nasty and Monstrous and crooked of knee.

-=-

Tuesday April 4, 1978

Out at lunchtime to Parker's (wine bar) with Jacq and Trixie. The place was quite empty, but we had a good few drinks and a spot of something to eat. Trixie goes off to Suffolk tomorrow house hunting and Jacq won't be seeing her until we go to Gina's wedding in 3 weeks.




Nothing happened tonight. Jacq went to Trixie's hotel at Garforth for dinner and fond farewells and I did nothing but watch TV.

My Uncle Peter was 49 today. Mum gave me a (birthday) card saying 'Happy Birthday Slob' and £3. She presented me with this tonight because on no account will she be out of bed before my departure to the labour camp at dawn.

-=-

Wednesday March 29, 1978

Out with Christine to the Fox and then the Hare. We had the usual laughs. I'm tired of these mausoleums. Me and CB are forever trying to recapture the past at the Hare & Hounds with little or no success. Alas, we are all growing older.

CB: undaunted.

We discussed my birthday and decide that my idea about a coach party would never get off the ground. People, and especially our friends and associates, have funny ideas about transport these days and for them the thought of piling onto a smelly bus with twenty or thirty others has lost its magic and glitter. Anyway, who would want to bother? (How miserable is all this?)

At the Hare we managed to get a game of darts but Christine stabbed my finger and pinned me to the board. Dissolved in fits of laughter. I was penniless too, but CB was undaunted by my financial embarrassment and doesn't let it worry her in the least.  When and where is she going to find the multi-billionaire with a villa on the Italian Riviera? She's not going to discover great wealth whilst drinking every night with me ~ that is unless I heed the advice of the Rev. A.B. Downing.

-=-

Thursday March 16, 1978

Moon's first quarter 18:21

Dearest Christine's 22nd birthday. This afternoon I fought my way into town and purchased for the wonderous lady a can of British knickers and of course the ritual card. Tonight is Willie's 21st and I could not forget him either. I bought him a sordid volume entitled 'British Fishing', but with a naked lady exhibiting each 'catch'. The picture of the over weight salmon fisher in her wellies, and nothing else, got me. How did I have the nerve to purchase such a disgusting article?

The party anyway. Christine came at 8 (or was it 8:45?) and we both made a spectacular entry into the Hare and Hounds. We both drank like fish while Willie gloated over his dirty book, and we were joined by the cream of local society, Rick Marshall and Nigel Smith to name a few. We ended up all sharing a table. Rick kept peering over his glass and muttering: "Mick, you're alright, you are", as if it's only just dawned on him what a sound chap I am. The evening became blurred as it wore on. "This time I'm really going straight" said Rick sounding like somebody from a corny episode of 'Z Cars'.

Poor Christine is having boyfriend bother once more. I hung about until about 12:30 and then hot footed it home.

-=-

Tuesday July 26, 1977

Maria's 19th birthday. Mum saw John today and he said he's taking her out for dinner to celebrate.

Tuesday April 5, 1977

My birthday today. The usual type really. Up at 7.15 and devour kippers and drink tea. Get £4 from Mum and a £3 postal order from Lynn. Sue gave me £5 on Saturday.

Will I see my Jubilee?

To the YP in best jeans and jacket. Have a session this lunchtime with Dave B at the Ostlers. Had three or four pints and was quite pissed. They're frantic in the library trying to find King George VI's first private secretary when he succeeded to the throne in 1936. It was Sir Alan Lascelles, of course.

Carole rings to wish me 'Happy Birthday' for yesterday. When I tell her it's actually today she retorts "Oh, no it isn't!". OK, Carole pet, you win.

Birthday cards from Denise, Judith, Dave L, Marita & MM, &c. Dave G rings to profess congratulations and so does Auntie Mabel. (Mum, Dad, John, Maria and JPH go off to Auntie Mabel's for tea).

I eat at home with Lynn, Dave and Sue. Lynn goes off on a driving lesson and Sue, Pete and I go out for a drink. To the Hare, then the Black Bull, then back to the Hare. Quite a good night. Had fish and chips too.

Retire to my chambers at 12.27am. Goodnight One and All!

How many more years have I got? (The way things are going I can't see me having a Silver Jubilee ......my Silver Jubilee that is).

-==-

Thursday March 17, 1977

St Patrick's Day. Drastic evening out. Well it was for Michael Rhodes. I worked evenings and met Tony and Martyn at 11.30pm outside the YP.  Martyn looked dead and slept peacefully in the front seat.

Martyn: like the Cheshire Cat.

To Il Trovatore for Tony's birthday drink. Whilst I'm at the bar ordering some drinks for the three of us they both have a dance with a couple of young ladies and desert me completely, leaving me helpless with a Coca Cola and a half of Guinness. I found some solace in the company of Denise, Naomi and Carol (that's Fat Carol who works in the Hare on Sunday nights). _______.The girls left at 12. Martyn came over for their drinks and eventually I'm introduced, but I've forgotten their names. Tony told them about our Brands Hatch trip and unbelievably they say they want to join us. Tony and Martyn were like the Cheshire Cat - Tony especially. Buggers. Spent about £5 and got pissed. Home at 2.30am.






-=-

Friday March 11, 1977

CB's 21st party. It's a happy birthday also today to Lady Falkender's best friend.

CB: pot fulls of pernod.

Up at 9. Yes, it's my day off too. Leapt into the bath and then prepared for my visit to Pudsey. Susan contributes a few bob to my Auntie Mabel Flower Appeal. To Auntie Mabel's for lunch. On the way I bump into Uncle Peter and Auntie Jean who are out shopping. Chat for a few minutes. Stay with Auntie M until 4pm.

CB's 21st (birthday) party at the Hare. Only spent 67p. Everyone got incredibly pissed up. Remember Marion Read? Maura Tobin? (see diary for Jan or Feb '75). Howled with Marion. She's quite mad. CB drank pot fulls of pernod all night (the pot is in fact a Silver Jubilee Commemorative mug).  At one point I was having to hold her up and we danced round the crowded room. We even kissed. She kept saying 'I didn't know I had so many friends'. David L came but was quiet. I chatted with MM. Tried to seduce Marita. Fondled the future Mrs Christine Airey. Judith said 'yes' to tomorrow night. Good.

-=-

Tuesday March 8, 1977

David's 21st and Auntie Mabel's 58th. I phoned Auntie M at Marlene's and she seemed quite cheerful. It's her first (birthday) without Uncle Jack and it must be weird.

David: 21st birthday.

Not a particularly good day.Went to the EMI shop and bought 'Songs In the Key of Life' by Stevie Wonder on behalf of Mum for dear David___________.

I received a jolt over breakfast when Lynn informed me that my ex-consort, Miss Mather, will be attending David's party. Nothing to worry about I suppose. Made an effort to ring Tony but he didn't answer. I think he may be out with Martyn and  the Il Trovatore ladies (see Friday's entry).

The Queen made a slip today at the state opening of the Australian parliament. HM referring to her Silver Jubilee celebrations as 'the twenty fifth reign of my year' instead of 'the twenty fifth year of my reign'. Not a big mistake but it gets world-wide notice because she's usually word perfect.

No more tonight. It's becoming a drag having to sit into the early hours of the morning copiously filling in all the useless information.








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Sunday January 2, 1977

2nd after Christmas. Mama and Papa's birthday. Need I give their respective ages again? I'm sure that by now you're all aware of the numerical rigmarole so why should I bother? The events of the day are not very noteworthy. I ring Lynne at Thornton-le-Dale and she isn't very communicative. Who cares? [I wish I could get out of this habit of asking rhetorical questions every other sentence].

Marita Fountain

MM: he and Marita will be married ....

David came at 7.25pm and the two of us went to Rawdon for Marita and then on for MM. Where do you think we were going to spend Sunday evening? Would you believe ten pin bowling? Yes. Bowling of all things. To Leeds went the four of us and we spent three or four hours pleasurably bowling. Yes bowling. What more can I say? From here we go to the True Briton Inn at Chapel Allerton [?] where we discuss holidays. David tells me horror stories of the collapse of Christine B's latest romance on New Year's Eve. The poor demented child! I will have to contact her and offer what assistance I can muster.

Back to MM's for coffee until 1.30am. He and Marita will be married as sure as tomorrow's Monday.

-==-

Sunday June 13, 1976

Trinity Sunday. Lynne is nineteen today and last night I gave Pete a card to pass on to her. It is a birthday card designed for a 90 year-old but the picture on the front is so pretty I didn't think she'd notice the slightly exaggerated number.

A beautifully hot day. Sit out on the lawn until 3.30 and then wash my hair in order to make myself presentable for tonight's laborious stint at the YP. Leave for Leeds at 4pm looking something like a cross between a lobster and a beetroot. Sat in the sunshine in Guiseley for 45 minutes waiting for the bus - and when it arrived it was packed to the very brim. (Do buses have brims? Discuss). Worked until 10.30. Bored to tears. Absolutely nothing to report in the news and I fail to see why I should continue filling in this page with the usual clipped, badly punctuated trivia. However, this diary isn't here to make me happy. It's here for your benefit. What is boring and dull to me now maybe of great historical importance in 80 or 90 years time. In fact, by the time Lynne's birthday card is applicable this diary may well be selling as a rare manuscript at Sotheby's for £70,000.

-==-

Friday June 4, 1976

Christopher's 21st, but of course he's celebrating tomorrow night. Hear from Mum that John and Maria are staying with C for the weekend to help him arrange the party. Maria is cooking, cleaning and messing about in general. Six months pregnant too.

Eileen and I went over to the Central at lunchtime. __________________. I emerged after consuming two pints of lager a thoroughly bored young man.

Have a nasty argument with Mum at tea time and set out to Bradford at 6.30. Tony is driving up the lane and we meet half way. In Bradford for 7 o'clock and have a quick drink in the 'Painted Wagon' before meeting Sarah, Carol J, and Marilyn outside the Alhambra at 7.15. Horror of Horrors! On entering the theatre we are confronted by a terrible and nauseating poster. It's an announcement to the effect that Hylda Baker has been taken ill and will not be appearing. What's more we cannot get our money back! Not more than 20 other people were assembled in the theatre and after the first act of the play (also starring Valentine Dyall) we, all five of us that is, dashed off to Leeds and the Flying Pizza.

Sarah felt ill and couldn't eat anything and I blamed the intolerable heat of the place. Even I, Michael the Icebox, had to remove my jacket after the first course. A massive bottle of wine was consumed and by 10 o'clock we were heading back to Bradford to see 'All the President's Men' at the ABC. A boring film and darling Sarah fell asleep on my shoulder. I think I have always been greatly attracted to her. She is so sweet and appealing.

-==-