Monday September 10, 1979

_.Frantic day at the office. Just Carol J and I in. Carol never exerts herself. Eileen is in hospital having a lump removed. ____.

 In the columns of the Daily Telegraph I see a poignant piece of news which nobody else will have noticed. The infant son of the Duke and Duchess of Abercorn was baptised yesterday with the names Nicholas Edward Claud. The duchess is a god-daughter and kinswoman of the late Lord Mountbatten, and we of course know that the late earl had Nicholas among his Christian names, after his own godfather Tsar Nicholas II. And of course Mountbatten's grandson, murdered with him last month, was Nicholas Knatchbull.

Maria , JPH and Catherine came this evening. The baby has changed since I last saw her and is obviously thriving. Her hair is slightly rust coloured. Doctors say her heart is healing naturally,  and by next month she will be quite normal and free from her condition. John, in Scotland, phoned Maria here.

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Monday April 16, 1979

_. Bank Holiday in England, Ireland & Wales.

Incredibly warm day. I had to go into the YP too. Roads are dead, deserted and once again I have the distinct impression that I am the only bugger working this Bank Holiday Monday. Just Carol J & me in the office, which was lifeless. More noise to be heard in the crypt of St George's Chapel, Windsor, I suspect. Did a deal with Carol letting her go home at 2pm, but I took a two hour lunch break from 1pm, and came back to work at 3 for an hour.

At lunchtime I was joined at 1pm by Sue, Pete & darling Ally and we found ourselves in Whitelocks because both Len's Bar and the Ostlers were closed. Gulped back lager and beef and red cabbage sandwiches. They collected me at 4 after my feeble one hour back at the YP, and they tell me that some unfortunate devil has drowned in the weir at Kirkstall Abbey. Damned Bank Holiday swimmers - they just cannot be trusted.

Tonight: with Sue, Pete and Ally to the Commercial. She [Ally] is now very cynical about marriage ___________.

On at 9:30 to the Prachee Indian Restaurant at White Cross. I had prawn Madras curry, &c. All quite drunk and outspoken. A waiter attempted to rob me, but I didn't let him get away with it.

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Monday April 9, 1979

_. It poured down from dawn till dusk. Whatever became of the long, warm Spring which was forecast in the delightful EP?

Carol J paid me £10 for doing the bathroom and asked me whether I would possibly do the wall behind the door in that same, auspicious room. I leapt at the chance. It will only take me ten minutes.

Delia phoned and was most revealing. She told me she had argued with Sarah late last week at the cruel way S had sent me to Coventry for giving her that "frightful cold". She told Sarah to pull herself together and start being nice to me once again. She can be a horrid, precocious child at times. I'd love to be given the opportunity to really sort her out. In a brutal, forceful Clint Eastwood sort of way.

The general election campaign is already in full swing. A month of codswallop and blatant lies from our beloved pin-striped PM is something I can do without. Jim Callaghan really should do the honourable thing and shoot himself. It would be far better to go now than to wait until May 3 and suffer the same fate as King Charles I, Mr Hoveyda, the former Jamaican premier and poor Zulfikar Ali Bhutto, who died by hanging last week simply because he was the leader of a defeated party. Margaret Hilda [Thatcher] seems to have the right idea. She says she is ignoring the campaign for a while because she doesn't want to bore the pants off Joe Electorate. Hoe right and clever of the sainted Margaret.

To bed at 1:12am.

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Sunday April 8, 1979

_. Palm Sunday

Yes, Sarah was carried screaming from the party over David's shoulder at about 6am, leaving me alone with Jacq and the debris of half consumed drinks and piles of cig ends. We ate toast and drank tea due to a coffee shortage and huddled together on a large bean bag. ____________.

I crept in at home at about 9am and devoured boiled eggs and looked at the Sundays [papers]. The Countess of Snowdon is expecting a baby in the autumn. It's her first and she's 37 years old.

At 10 I went to Carol J's flat in Horsforth to hang wallpaper in her bathroom, and did so with great skill and patience until 6:30pm. I felt quite satisfied with the job afterwards. Carol was delighted, so much so that she drove me home [still in pouring rain]. Women and vehicles are a weird combination. Watched TV and ate until 10 and found myself unable to stay awake and staggered off to bed. Completely shagged out.

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Monday January 8, 1979

Pissed down with rain all day. Got a thorough soaking at 5pm.

The YP was dead. The strike is now in its sixth week. Played cards with Sarah and Carol J all afternoon which was great fun. Josephine says the YP is like a gentleman's club these days.

The flag on the flag pole on the lawn at the Flying Pizza in Burley is fluttering at half~mast following my attempt to remove it on Saturday. Lynn thinks it looks wonderful. People doff their caps as they pass it thinking that a high ranking member of the Royal Family is no more.

The bespectacled Italian manager took Josephine home on Saturday night. She told him that his food always gives her an upset stomach. They quarreled violently. Did he remove his specs for her too, I wonder? Or is that neopolitan gesture purely intended for the males of the species only? We will perhaps never have the answer to this.

I came home on the bus with the militant Peter Lazenby. We lapsed into long silences on the journey. _________.

A letter awaits me at home from Barclaycard. In fact it's a statement demanding £7 for petrol purchased at a service station in Leicester on December 18. Some swine is forging my signature, or more probably the cretins at Barclays in Northampton have pressed the wrong button on their computer. Sod off, Barclays. Sod off.

Jacq is having a (birthday) party at Linda's on February 3. It's her 24th birthday. Sarah and Carol J are going there from the Regent (that lousy, painful crowd), and Jacq seems to be spending a lot of time with them there.

Bed at 12:15 after watching a mathematical genius adding up on late night TV.

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Friday January 5, 1979

Carol J is away from the YP with 'chest problems' It's a big enough chest. Sarah wore a fur hat all day at her typewriter saying it was because her hair is so filthy and she cannot subject me to the sight of it.

Two lords died today and both peerages became extinct. Viscount Harcourt died without an heir, and so too did Earl Beauchamp. How many years will it be before Burke's Peerage can be published in a pocket~sized edition?

Took a half~day and went to buy Mum and Dad a pepper mill for their birthdays. Spent £5. Also, devoured fish & chips from Harry's (Ramsden's) before heading for home in the sun and snow at 3pm.

At 6pm Lynn and Dave B came to carry me off to Burley-in-Wharfedale. We had tomato soup and ate pizza and chips, and drank beer, apricot wine and a quantity of whisky. Dave was pale. He had a headache. He looked at death's door. We watched "What's New Pussycat" on TV. I thought of Judith Rushworth, who loves Peter Sellers. In fact Sellers deserved an Oscar for his performance as Professor Fassbender, the psychiatrist.

Dave had to go to bed at 12, but Lynn and I lasted until 1.30. She does tend to bite his head off.

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Saturday December 23, 1978

Sun rises 08:05 Sun sets 15:55

Feel ill, so get lost. Out tonight with Christine to the Regent at Chapel Allerton and then to the Queen's in Horsforth, and then to Carol's party. Over 200 piled in. It was quite ludicrous. The combined weight of the revellers caused the ceiling of the sweet shop below to cave in. Boxes of Black Magic and Terry's 1767s were afloat in the water from the burst pipes. Very sad.

I was ill and shouldn't have gone out. CB appreciated my indisposition and sympathised. The creeps in the Regent gave us envious glances ~ I am sure CB caused a sensation because the female population in the Regent generally consists of fat tarts buried beneath four inches of make~up.

CB gave me a book for Christmas. It's by Alan Coren and called "The Lady from Stalingrad Mansions" ~ very inspiring. Home at 1:30am (?).  Pissed up.

John and Maria were merry~making with Mum & Dad. The baby is due on July 7.



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Friday December 22, 1978

Moon's last quarter 17:41

Not going to tell you much. Work was over by 1:30 and we went across to Parker's Wine Bar ~ which was ridiculous. So cramped and over crowded. Surely a danger and a fire risk? Tarts abounded. Champagne gushed everywhere at £8 a bottle. Most of the men in the place were dressed like Shirley Bassey ~ I think they were heading off to a fancy dress party.

At about 4 o'clock Carol J took Sarah and I to Ivory Towers {really Ivory Dene, West End Lane, Horsforth}, where we ate beans on toast and drank whisky.

November '63: Jack or Bobby?

Auntie Delia brought me home at 7 and came in to use our phone. She wanted to contact Bill (Collis) ~ the phones at Ivory Towers are out of order.

My throat is on fire. I think my cold is returning. By 8:30 I'm in bed and undergo a hideous night of delirium and sweat. At one point, in my dream, I was about to assassinate Senator Robert Kennedy, but couldn't understand why my calendar said it was November, 1963. I went out on the "grassy knoll" trying to tell people that it was his brother, John, who should be assassinated, not Bobby. Nobody believed me.

Yes, I'm stoned out of my miserable brain.





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Thursday December 21, 1978

Sorry about this ink ~ but my faithful fountain pen is missing.

Back to the YP. Not at all festive. In fact Kathleen was quite dull. She's usually all child~like and giddy at this time of year.

Left work at 1pm and concluded my shopping at Schofield's. I purchased a wonderful Ian Dury single ~ "Rhythm Stick" and made my way home.

Susan and Peter were flat out on the settee ~ both suffering from colds. Peter was too ill to go out tonight. This stunned me. He went home at 5:30 taking me down the lane with him. It's deep in soddin' snow.

I almost froze to death on the bus. The vehicle rattled and shivered on its miserable journey to Horsforth.

To Bibi's in Leeds after having a double whisky at the Leisure Centre. It was the usual YP Library "do". Boring really. On with Sarah, Carol J, and Monica to the Regent at Chapel Allerton ~ the usual cattle market.

Slept in the Pink Suite at Ivory Towers ~ quite a laugh.

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Tuesday December 12, 1978

I have just been summoned to thee bathroom by Susie who is sitting in a hot bath in complete darkness. "Michael, the bulb's just gone" she moaned. "Go and catch it then" answered I, closing the door. She was splashing hopelessly in the inky black depths. It could have proved nasty if she'd been practicing hand stands in the bath or embroidering a bed~spread whilst soaking.

Enoch Powell: fascist tendencies ...

Have you heard about the ridiculous Enoch Powell's controversial statement on the possible marriage of the Prince of Wales with a lady of Roman Catholic inclinations? The old fool ought to be shot. Obviously, we don't want to the next Queen Consort giving her allegiance to the Pope, but Powell, a Ulster Unionist MP with a little moustache and fascist tendencies is stirring up trouble. I feel sure that the prince is well aware of the impracticality of his marrying a Roman Catholic and do suppose he has no intention of doing so. I am going to state again ~ quite categorically ~ that HRH The Prince of Wales will marry an English rose from the aristocracy or landed gentry (if you can define the two) and in all probability he hasn't even met her yet.

Sarah and I are not having a half~day off together on Friday after all. I'm taking the day off and she's taking Thursday off. It's all part of Kathleen's strike measures. Stupid if you ask me.

Told Sarah that CB is accompanying me to Carol's party on Dec 23, and she didn't look thrilled. She is going with Richard Burke and I haven't complained about that. Anyway, I dislike the Regent (Chapel Allerton) and by going with Christine we can spend most of the evening at the Fox.

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Friday November 17, 1978

Up at 7 feeling slightly groggy. It became steadily worse as the day went on. Sarah and Carol J are going to London for the weekend and so Ursula came in to do a daytime shift. It was good to see her again. For a thirty year~old mother of two she remains quite sexy.

At lunchtime I drank Eno's, the 'tummy settling' concoction. It worked quite well. At 3:30 I left for Manchester and got there in record time. I was bashing on the door of the Hollywood Hotel by 5:30.

Had a mixed grill. Watched Alastair Burnet reading the evening news on the ITV. Jeremy Thorpe's case comes up at Minehead on Monday. Some of us are making bets that Thorpe's clothes will soon be found piled up by some fast flowing river or picturesque ocean seascape. He could well follow the example set by John Stonehouse.

Dave G is bearded and in fine form. We went with Bill, Garry and Steve to see Stockport County play Newport. It was a diabolical game which ended in a 1-1 draw. Watching the planes circling above waiting to land at Manchester was a far more interesting pastime.

Back to the Hollywood with a select mob of football supporters. We drank about 10 pints each and generally had a riot. Bed at 1:30 or so after watching 'The L~Shaped Room' on Granada TV.

____________.

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Tuesday November 7, 1978

Moon's first quarter 16:18

Sunny day. Sarah's 26th birthday, of course. Lunchtime saw the celebration at Da Mario's on the Headrow. I stuck to the old, faithful pizza but we had prawn starters and trifle, &c.

This morning I gave the birthday girl one of my speciality cards with a personal verse chucked in for good measure.

Sarah, Carol J, Eileen and Marilyn W for lunch ~ once again I was the only male in sight. Let me tell you now that on occasions it becomes tedious and trying to be the constant centre of adulation.

Later, to the dentist. Surprised that I don't need any work doing. I feel as if I should perhaps climb into my own mouth and shake each tooth by the hand in gratitude.

Watched tv tonight. Charles Darwin again. Bed at midnight with Adolf Hitler.

PS ~ Lynn & Dave came this evening.

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Saturday October 28, 1978

Sun rises 07:46 Sun sets 17:42

St Simon & St Jude

Lynn and Dave are consoling Alison today. She should have been marrying at 2pm.

Mum and Dad went off early this morning to Whitby. They are spending the night at the pub overlooking the harbour. I sat at home all day quite alone. _______________________.

At 6:30 I went over to Sarah's and we moved on to Carol's flat and eventually at 7:30 we went to Headingley to meet Jacq. She said she wouldn't arrive until 8 and so I told Sarah and Carol to go on ahead to the Damn Yankee. _________. Jacq didn't eventually come until 8:30 and so we didn't get to the Regent until about 9. The four of us stood in the Regent like wet fish. Sarah went to sit in the car at ten because she said she was feeling faint. Carol went off with Roy _______________________.

We dropped Jacq off at 10:30 and then Sarah made a miraculous recovery and we returned to Pine Tops and played records, drank lager and elderflower champagne until about 2. We danced the tango across the dining room to Donna Summer ~ Sarah with a large plastic flower clasped firmly between her teeth. Hilarious.

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Saturday September 23, 1978

Sun rises 06:48 sun sets 18:58

Not too happy today. Could have had a good fight with anyone who cared to try it on. Lying in my bed this morning I decided to go to this so~called fancy dress party as a Harewood House Bird Garden attendant, with one of Delia's stuffed birds stitched to my left shoulder. Ingenious, eh? I spent a couple of hours busily sewing Eric (the little Tit) onto an old white t-shirt.

Susie and Peter took me to Leeds at 8:30 and we joined Jacq and Hayden at Len's Bar, where a few other fancy~dress goers were gathered. I could see a couple of French maids, the odd clown and a very poor imitation of Queen Victoria.

Eric the Blue Tit created a sensation. I was a bit cool with Jacq (who was dressed in a Pontypool rugby shirt and footless tights masquerading as a punk rocker) and found her constant chatter with Milky Bar Kid Haydn (yes, it's spelt the same way as the famed composer) somewhat irritating.

Sue and Pete left for a disco at 10 and Jacq, the Milky Bar Kid and a female Mexican Bandit and I left to get a taxi to the Railway Station. What seems like hours of hilarity followed. We didn't get to the party until after midnight. We laid on an hours free entertainment for tired British Rail passengers, performing a circus act upon a luggage trolley and giving an adequate rendering of "Singin' in the Rain".

Stanmoor Drive was our destination and a bemused taxi driver found it quite easily. We were met by the hostess (the French Maid) but to our horror the booze was already running dry and our couple of bottles of cider looked pathetic.

Jacq did a good deal of scrounging and we knocked back sherry, red wine, and home brewed champagne. Naturally, at about 4am I brought it all back up on some unfortunate cabbage patch on Stanmoor Drive, Burley, Leeds. To my surprise Carol J and Marilyn were in the throng, but they left early to go to another orgy in Horsforth. Marilyn drank my cheap cider and insisted on prodding Eric (the tit) before leaving. I must say I was the most original character in fancy dress. However, I switched from being a Harewood Bird Garden operative to being the Bird Man of Alcatraz.

Jacq and I were among the last to leave and we walked to Guiseley arriving at 7:30am. Jacq was fed up and exhausted on the journey and at one point was reduced to tears.

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Friday August 25, 1978

Trixie came to stay at the Dragonara for the duration of the Bank holiday. This evening Jacq and I went to meet her at the hotel and we took her to Len's Bar where Sue Tirbutt was having a party. Trixie was in fighting form and looked fit and well while knocking back the usual pints of bitter. I introduced her to (Alan) Macgregor, who served in the Royal Navy with Derek Sate. Hayden came with Jacq. _________________. Jacq, Trixie, Hayden, Sarah, Carol J and I went to the Nouveau club at 11pm from Len's and stayed until about 2:30.

Trixie left for the Dragonara at about 1am but we stuck it out until the bitter end. Sarah was horribly pissed. At the end of the evening Jacq disappeared into the darkness with Hayden and Carol drove Sarah and I to West End Lane, Horsforth. We staggered and fell around in her kitchen and I made some ridiculous adjustments to her father's shopping list on the table. At about 3 I retired to the pink suite at Ivory Towers.


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Monday January 23, 1978

 Saw Dave safely off to Manchester this morning. He seems to get on tremendously with Sue and Peter.

Holiday fever. Spent the day in contact with Michelle at WH Smith's in Bradford. She managed to provisionally book 5 places at the Marco Polo in San Antonio for 12 nights from July 12. The five are self, Martyn, David, Peter and Susan. At home tonight Susan suggests that perhaps Chippy and Gus (Peter's buddies) are game too. I play hell because Michelle has spent all day working her heart out and now we're altering the plans. However, seven holidaymakers make a better team than 5.

Great events are taking place at the YP.  It is rumoured that Carol J is _____________________.
Things have to be clarified, but Marilyn's information service is usually reliable. Bloody Hell!

I phoned Martyn tonight. Told him the plans and he's in with us. My ring is beyond repair, unfortunately. You know the one I mean, it belonged to John Henry Rhodes, my great-grandfather, who was presented with it on his 21st birthday in June, 1887.

Bed to read after 11:00.

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Monday October 31, 1977

A nasty wet day. Had an appointment with Hough. He always treats his victims as though it's their first ever experience in a denist's chair. He means well, I suppose. Walked home from Rawdon with a numb face.

Martyn phoned after tea to say that he, Tony and two young ladies (one being Mrs Carol Johnson) went to a barbecue on Saturday evening at Carlton Lane. No comment. Otherwise, no communication with the outside world.

I haven't phoned the hospital since Thursday which is disgusting but I'm so fed up with bad news on top of bad news.

John came at 7.30 and we all had a go at him. ________. He says his departure for Scotland could be quite soon.

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Thursday September 29, 1977

To Sarah's after work and on to the Leisure Centre at Horsforth at 6.30 for my first ever game of squash. I really looked the part in David B's Fred Perry shorts and shirt, and I could see just how much Sarah was taken by my legs. Woman usually are, you know. We bashed about for about forty minutes and I really quite enjoyed the 'incident'. I didn't do too badly, either. Naturally, I didn't win, but Sarah had every confidence in my eager and forthright attitude. I fancy her.

From here we went with Marilyn (Wheeler) to the Damn Yankee and then to the Regent at Chapel Allerton. The food was good and M told hilarious tales of _________ prostitution activities. _____ By all accounts is 'no good in bed'. We laughed a good deal.

The Regent was hideous. So many people, and so overpowering. A friend of Marilyn's bought me two drinks and wouldn't let me get him one in return. He's going to China next week forever and I'll never be able to repay his kindness. I understand now why _______ inhabits this joint. If a strange man is prepared to buy me drinks, just what are they doing for ______? Eh? Know what I mean? Wink, wink.

Sarah brought me home and I wanted to drag her in the back of the car and show her a thing or two, but for some reason I just said 'good night' and watched her drive off.  ________.

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Friday September 23, 1977

Eileen showed me an article in that glorious relic 'Woman's Own' which I found hilarious. It states that the Royal Family is becoming far too large, the biggest one in fact since Victoria's day. Laugh at the thought that by the year 2000 the south of England will be overrun by minute Queen Mothers, devouring and devastating crops and making a general nuisance of themselves. _______.

Royal Family: too large.

Burdened with a ghastly hangover today. I'm home completely shattered at the usual hour and spend the time until 9 o'clock readying myself for Angela (Singer's) party. Jacqui phoned at 9.15 and by 10.15 we were teamed up outside the Yorkshire Post and we made our way to Headingley.

I loathe going to parties stone cold sober, but I soon remedied that. It was rewarding watching bleary eyed journalists eyeing up Jacqui and Joy. Peter Fearon attempted to woo Joy with his Fleet Street routine which failed brilliantly. She then went off to dance with a Daily Express man. I became quite drunk.

Carol Johnson and Roger Ratcliffe arrived at the same time, but not together. The girls thoroughly enjoyed themselves and were very sociable. Did I do a tango with Brenda Rankin? I hope not.

Joy brought me home and I foolishly had them in for coffee, giggles and screams, slamming doors and other loud robust noises. Naturally, Mama was awakened by the commotion but made no assault on us downstairs, luckily. They set off back for the depths of Roundhay at some unbelievable hour and I departed to my chambers for a few hours shut-eye. A very pleasant party. Angela Singer deserves to be the first woman editor of a national newspaper.

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Monday August 29, 1977

Went to Leeds at 8 with Dave G, who departs down Wellington Street for his bus. A great lad.

Trojans: not really office workers.

I'm at the YP all day with just Carol J to amuse me. (By the way, I've re-discovered my fountain pen). We worked like Trojans, that is if Trojans ever really worked like we do at the Yorkshire Post, which I doubt very much. They wouldn't know the first thing about filing news cuttings or dealing with the news desk.

CB.

Home at about 5 feeling warm and weary. CB, yes, good old CB phoned and demanded my company for the evening. I'm washed, groomed and ready for 8 o'clock and she came and collected me in her new car. We went to the Hare for the first one, then because it was so dead, we moved on to the Shoulder of Mutton, the Commercial and then the Regent and finally the Yorkshire Rose. We had the usual laugh and customary breakages and other mishaps but all great fun. She is in possession of a new boyfriend and by all accounts he's not the usual rogue-like vagabond with whom she so often becomes enamoured. She says they are going to take me out to the Amsterdam Bar at Huddersfield. A new innovation. I'm usually kept well away from Christine's beaus.

Home by 10.30 even though the pubs are open until 11.30. It was so bloody quiet everywhere so much so that we forgot it was a bank holiday.

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