Monday July 14, 1975

Why do the wrong women always fall for me? This so-called Carole says she's passionately in love with me and is prepared to undergo any hardship which might entail going out with me. My current infatuation is for Sarah and until my feelings change I cannot see me touching anyone else.

It was awful at work because Eileen got onto the subject of 'how horrible it would be to go out with someone who worked at the same place' &c, and my heart was pounding, and I kept trying not to look at Sarah, who was doing the same trying to keep her eyes from me. What would it be like though if I did take her out? The office would come to a standstill I do suppose, and they'd try to make it hell for us. Carol Johnson for one would never give her assent to our relationship because she is horribly envious of Sarah and thinks I am far too unworthy. Nothing short of the Aga Khan for Sarah would satisfy Carol J. However, I can forsee her coming down to earth with a bang shortly. Sarah is for me, and on the 26th I'm going to do my damned best to get her once and for all.

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Friday July 4, 1975

Independence Day, USA. Don't worry. It's now a beautiful Sunday afternoon, and I'm sat on the lawn in a stone cold sober fashion. However, it does say Friday at the top of the page, so I won't mess about any longer. Here goes: I met Sarah on the bus at 7.30, and we had to meet Carol on Broadgate Lane. We decided not to bother about the Fleece, which is too far down the road, and so we started off in the Stanhope - a tatty looking place by anyone's standards. We got off on the right footing, and I had a pint of cider, Sarah had half of cider, and Carol half of lager. Sarah was the epitome of loveliness as usual, and we continued in this pattern of alcoholic consumption in the King's Arms, Black Bull, Brown Cow, Grey Horse and the Queen's Arms. Carol and I varied it a bit in the Brown Cow by having Stella Artois, and then in the Queen's I had a whisky, and Sarah a gin, because they'd run out of cider. After the Queen's I remember very little in order. Sarah and I staggered up to her place, and I definately remember falling over once. I also remember telling Sarah that I loved her, and that was why I worked 'at that bloody place'. She bundled me onto a bus, but two stops further on I climbed off and tried to find her, but arrived instead on the main road. Luckily, or so I thought, I got a lift to Guiseley, but unluckily, the driver was homosexual, and he put his hands on me. Punches were exchanged, and I climbed out of the car. Ghastly, I know. But what can you do about a thing like that? Got home at 12.30, and then walked down to Wikis. Lynn and David were in, and I fell flat on the floor in drunkenness. A fantastic evening though, and I hope Sarah won't be offended by anything I've said to her. I meant it all, anyway.

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Sunday June 29, 1975

5th after Trinity. Sunny, but windy day. Get up at 10.30 and have breakfast. Mum and Dad go off to Nottingham for the day leaving us to our own devices.

Lynn goes to Dave's for the day to do the cooking whilst his Mum and Dad are away for the weekend - I'll leave the rest to your imagination (only joking), and John goes off to 'George's' for the same thing. I feel almost starved all day, and after sitting through a boring Bette Davis film I leap into a cheese sandwich and devour a nice hot bath.

An hour in the bath re-vitalises me for the evenings onslaught, and after a bit of persuading I get Sue and Peter to come to Harry Ramsden's with me for fish and chips. At 7.45 after devouring a pleasant meal, I head off towards the Hare & Hounds, where I meet Carol just getting off the bus. All the mob gathers as usual, and I find solace in Miss Rushworth, who seems adicted to the Hare these days.

Christine D and I walked home up Thorpe Lane. We laughed ourselves hoarse, and the incline of the hill didn't make things much better. Lately, I've come to appreciare the wit and humour of CD, who has everyone in stitches every time she opens her mouth. Have a coffee with her before returning home at 12. Lynn and Dave greet me on my arrival home, and I bid them goodnight.

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Friday June 27, 1975

Feel grotty and ill for the best part of the day. Like a bloody fool, I took two more tablets with my breakfast, and they didn't agree with me at all. However, having upset Mum already, I didn't want to worry her even more, so I left for work without mentioning to her just how ill I felt.

Sarah was beautiful today. She always makes a fuss of me, and was an absolute angel about me feeling bad.

Eileen was back from Spain, all white and pickled with alcohol - and so I delegated a lot of my powers to her.

Home at 6 feeling a lot better. A bath and a brush up brings me round, and I prepare to set out for Horsforth to meet Sarah and Mrs Johnson. We attempt to do the whole of Town Street, starting at the Old Ball. But we end up four pubs further on at the Brown Cow at 10.30. Still, it gives us the excuse to do it all again next weekend.

After leaving Carol at 10.30 I walk Sarah home to West End Lane. It's lovely to get my arms around her, and I'm sure she feels a little something for me too. I met 'Auntie' Delia for the first time. Not at all what I expected, but somehow Sarah is a bit like her in character. Her Dad just walked into the room and belched, but he's endearing in a funny sort of way. I kept saying I'd walk home, but 'Auntie' protested and offered me a lift in the car. Sarah and her Mum brought me home, and I hadn't so much as laid a lip on her all night. I'll have luck one day though, you mark my words.

-=-

Tuesday June 24, 1975

I know it's naughty of me, but it's now a week since I laid pen on this diary, and even me, the genius that I am, cannot possibly recall totally what actually occurred on June 24, 1975. However, you will, no doubt, be interested to know that Sarah, Mrs Johnson and I are 'doing Town Street' on Friday. When I say 'doing Town Street' I really mean to say 'doing a pub crawl down Town Street', which means exactly the same thing, but the former covers up a good deal of what actually is going on, if you follow my meaning. Oh, shut up, Michael.

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Thursday June 12, 1975

The weather remains phenomenal, but somehow I think it's going to decline slightly. Today's been even more humid and at 6 o'clock this evening whilst devouring tea I did notice the odd cloud messing about in the heavens.

Christine rang me at the YP and it's still on for 11.30 tomorrow. I didn't want to talk to her in detail because Sarah and Carol were glued to me and I felt acutely self conscious throughout. Everyone, that is Christine, Sarah and Carol dissolved into fits of laughter when I said to C that it sounded as though she was ringing from Guyana.

Anyway, I'm tired now and going to bed, but before I do I will mention something which may be of historic value in years to come. The disreputable newspaper, The Sun, today says that the Prince of Wales is dating Lady Alexandra Hay,daughter of the Countess of Erroll (a peeress in her own right I might add) and Sir Iain Moncrieffe of that Ilk, Baronet. She isn't pretty, but who am I to judge these things?

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Thursday June 5, 1975

Clammy day. Rains on my way down the lane at 8am, and is scorching hot on my return at 5.15. Bloody British weather.

It's Referendum Day I know, but I'm sick to the back teeth of hearing about it.

Busy day at the YP. Mrs Johnson, who is now separated from Mick, leaves early 'full of pneumonia' or something. We'll all go down with it in the office.

Home at 5.30 for tea. Believe now that I have no choice other than to vote 'yes' in the referendum. I find the very thought of doing so distasteful, but if I do not do so, the weight of an overall 'no' vote would be on my conscience for the rest of my days.

John and I go vote 'yes' at 8.30. We then go to the Hare where Gillian, Naomi, even CB and Gary are to be found. We also call in at the Fox & Hounds for a quick one at about 9.30. Back to the Hare I arrange to meet CB therein on the morrow. It's now two months to the very day since I told her how I feel about her, and I still feel exactly the same. Gary must go.

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Wednesday May 28, 1975

A right Royal Day today. I arrived at work to find a photo of the bearded Prince of Wales on my desk, and I was startled to see how much he looked like a young King George V. Without further ado I delved into the picture archives and emerged with a photo of George V, suitably bearded of course. The resemblance is remarkable and I realised immediately that this would be a good idea for a story. 'People' the YP diary is an obvious place for such an article. However, my labours are in vain, and every time I attempt to pass on my ideas they are shouted down and ridiculed. By lunchtime I have given up hope. However, at 3 I was approached by Chris Dawson with a request for pictures of ALL the bearded monarchs of England. 'Hell', I thought, 'how many Kings of England have been bearded. Let's solve this by a process of elimination.' George VI and Edward VIII were clean shaven, and so was Queen Victoria. King Edward VII and King George V were proud beard owners, and none of the first four Georges had one. Queen Anne didn't have one, and William and Mary couldn't grow a beard between them. So, in one way or another the throne of Great Britain was beardless between 1649 and 1901. Henry VIII and poor Charles I were reasonably endowed with facial hair, but that's about all.

But alas, and alack, no sooner had I suppled Chris Dawson with images of bearded kings that I receive news of horrific consequence. Carol is shouting something like: 'He's shaved it off! He's shaved it off!' Indeed, the prince has succumbed to the razor. Carol was laughing hysterically. 'He's got a moustache now'.

The thought of searching for moustachioed monarchs didn't please me all that much. Poor Dawson returned to his desk, head bowed at the thought of losing a good story.

On my arriving home I look in at the 6 o'clock news and see the Prince of Wales endowed with a moustache dressed in robes of Grand Master of the Order of the Bath, and looking remarkably like the Prince Consort. However, I have made up my mind never to notice resemblances amongst members of the Royal Family again.

Home at 5.30 for tea and prepare to see Leeds United in the European Cup. Dave Baker joins us and we indulge in a few glasses of lager, ale, &c.

-==-

Tuesday May 6, 1975

Peaceful day without the chaos of Kathleen. A beautiful hot day, and it really is a crime to be trussed up in an office - without windows - for a rotten £30 a week.

Bumped in Speed, the EP cartoonist, and he says I really ought to have a word with Malcolm Barker about my future. He says it's dead easy being a reporter, and didn't seem to think that my lack of 2 'A' levels was a hinderance. And so, it's Malcolm Barker here I come!

Carol J was rabbiting on about the Queen abdicating in a few years time to make way for the Prince of Wales. A load of codswallop! The very word 'abdication' will strike horror into the heart of any member of the House of Windsor after the trauma of King Edward VIII. Besides, the Queen is a very healthy, dedicated sovereign, who vowed on her 21st birthday that 'whether my life be long, or short I will serve the British Commonwealth of Nations with all my heart' or words closely resembling this.

Nothing of vital importance today. I knocked about the garden after tea and inspected Uncle Albert's apple tree, which is growing marvellously. To think that 6 years ago my old uncle took a pip from an eating apple and laid it in a little pot. It now stands about 3ft in height. Old Mother Nature is a genius, and besides, Uncle Albert had a way with plants that assures its future prosperity.

'Edward VII' was on TV again tonight and again I must say that Annette Crosbie plays a marvellous Queen Victoria. Truly a wonderous actress.

-==-

Wednesday February 26, 1975

A busy day really. Sarah, Carol and I go down to Whitelocks for a few jars and a bite to eat. Sarah is really funny. She could get pissed on a pint of water. Two ciders and she's anybodys.

Maybe I'm just a cynic but I had to laugh at a marriage announcement in the Times this morning. Lady Jane Fitzalan-Howard, daughter of the old Duke of Norfolk who was taken from us three and a half weeks ago, is to marry Lord Ancram, the elder son of the Marquis of Lothian. Now you may think nothing of this at all, but I can't help having my doubts. The old duke must have refused to allow any of his daughters to leave his side. Threats of cutting them off without a penny, &c. Was Uncle Bernard typranical? Let's see how quickly the three remaining daughters grab a few men and march them down the aisle.

Thank God it's pay day tomorrow. I'm really stony broke this week. What with saving up for Majorca and bloody Barclaycard I'll be bloody grey and toothless by my 20th birthday. It's a week since I've heard from Marian. So I may as well wave bye bye to her, and Gillian's stopped mauling me. So I once again revert to a celibate state. Anyone would think I'm standing for Pope at the next election. Pope Michael the First. Yes, that's got a nice ring to it.

John doesn't go out. Chris collects me at 8.30. To the Hare & Hounds with Laura and Carol. Have a few laughs, though nothing startling occurs.

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Monday February 10, 1975

A unusual Monday. After the usual ritual of work, John and I went to the Hare & Hounds where his ladyfriend had begged him to attend upon her. Quite a stunning piece she is too. Called Naomi, or 'Nay', an attractive name. It certainly made a change going out with a different crowd.

Had a letter from Denny today. She said she thought she'd been 'a cow' over the way she's ignored me and the happy family these past few months. I forgave her immediately. (Conceited swine that I am).

The Tory Fiasco reaches its cresendo tomorrow. Will it be Margaret Thatcher or old Willie Whitelaw? In my own mind I know that Mrs T will succeed, but anything can happen in politics. Have a bet with Sarah, Carol and Eileen. I stand to win 10p.

A year ago almost to the day I was saying that Mr Heath's (who's he?) leaning towards male company could not be doing him any good. I was right. One day you can be Prime Minister and the next you're just a middle-aged old puff who used to be a big shot in the Conservative party. Cruel, cruel politics.

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Wednesday December 18, 1974

Utterly shagged out all day. Never I have experienced such bloody tiredness in the whole of my long, laborious and important life. Tiredness, I have found, affects people in many different ways. I become a moronic structure, resembling nothing more than a over-stewed cabbage, or root vegetable. Sarah fades away to a sweet damsel of the sweetest nature. Carol pretends she's no different, but Kathleen's situation is unfortunate. Miss Rainford becomes quite nasty and quick tempered. This is a depressing phenomena when one is attempting to enjoy the few snatches of Christmas festivities one is privileged to have. You'll be aware from this that work was unkind to me today. Bloody glad to leave I was. Unpleasantness is hardly the word for it.

Sit in front of the TV all evening while John departs to bed at an early hour with something resembling more than a usual chill. Pneumonia for Christmas?

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Tuesday December 17, 1974

To Leeds with John on a 33 bus at about 7.45pm. 

We meet Chris in the Highlander where he's been waiting for about an hour. The weather is absolutely freezing cold and we attempt to thaw out with whisky and orange. After two minutes we switch to pints of lager - a shame really. Dave, Lynn, Sue and Peter come at about 9 o'clock and I begin worrying about whether the two youngsters will obtain admission in Rockerfellas. 

At 9.30 we nip across to the Vintage where we have a few drinks with Kathleen, Sarah and mob. Little spot of bother at Rockerfellas with Peter - but we're all admitted. Once again Sarah is overpoweringly stunning. Charming and too glamorous to be capably described. I feel she entices me, and leads me on on these occasions. November 5 was the last occasion, and she did the same this time. We had a few cosy dances together, and rather a lot, though not enough, necking. Lynn says that ____is positively envious at my 'catch'. 

All the girls were great and amused at Eileen catching John off his guard. Even Kathleen laughed at the sight of my brother and Miss Byram copulating openly before a wide range of the assembled multitude. John and I home in a taxi at 2 with Sarah (swoon) and Carol. I was in the back with the ladies - and need I say more than the fact that I paid more attention to Miss Collis than I did Mrs Johnson.

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Monday November 18, 1974

Uneventful day really. At the YP nothing of tremendous import happens other than the reconcilliation in the marriage of Michael and Carol Johnson. However, if you want my opinion, the rot has already set in and the cancerous growth will eat away at the relationship. Once the seeds of destruction are sown very little can be done to prevent germination. Sarah, Carol and I bet on the mysterious Earl of Lucan. Sarah and I say he is now dead, but Carol says he's alive. On Christmas Eve, going by information received from now until then, 10p each is at stake between the three of us. The police aren't mad. If His Lordship is alive and on the run in Britain he deserves to get away with it, after all this time.

See a film on the TV tonight 'Whatever Happened to Aunt Alice' which doesn't attempt to be realistic at all. Quite frightening though. Bed at 11.30 after hearing strange noises coming from the direction of the garden. I think it was Mrs Smith looking for poor Ricki, who is stone deaf. (Ricki is a 11 year-old Spaniel dog).
Have I told you already what Carol Smith has been saying to Dave Baker when she rings him every night?

--==--

Thursday November 7, 1974

Day off. Up at about 10 and do nothing until about 11. Dad goes to Morrison's on a wild goose chase for something called sugar, a crystal-like substance believed to have been extinct for 200m years. Whether he'll get any or not is a debatable point, and I don't hang around to find out. Go into work arriving at 10 after 12. Kathy passes on a message from Sarah who is spending her lunch hour at Whitelocks. I join them at about 20 past. Carol sits brooding over a gin and tonic. She says Michael asked her for a divorce the other day because he wants to enjoy himself before he grows too old. I consider this to be a bloody liberty. Michael Johnson may well be only 22 but he's married now and it's his own silly fault if he's now got cold feet. I despise weakness and half-heartedness where marriage is concerned. I don't give a damn about how people treat one another when they aren't united in Holy wedlock, but when the plunge is taken it really should be forever, commanding love and respect on both sides. The character of Michael Johsnon is not to be desired. Home at nearly 3 to see 'The Forsyte Saga' on TV. Have fish and chips followed by crumpets for lunch.

Hear on the 6 o'clock news that dear old Sir Alec Douglas-Home is now ennobled with a peerage once again. Will he be Lord Home or Lord Douglas-Home, I don't know. It's only a feeble life peerage of course, not the real thing.

Haven't heard from Lynne all week and am not going to bother ringing her either. She's going off on Friday_____. See Monty Python which gives us all cronic hysteria as usual, then see the corny Evening Standard Film Awards where Glenda Jackson is to be seen receiving lots of medals, trophies and acclaim, from an audience consisting of 300 drunken film extras in evening dress.

-==-

Wednesday November 6, 1974

A horrible day. Carol doesn't come in at all, and Kathy is off all day. Sarah and I laugh and joke about last night. Find a letter on my desk from the mass murderess Judith Theresa Ward to her brother and sister-in-law. Tommy Ward must have sent it in to editorial for publication and it's somehow found it's way to my desk. I reproduce the contents here in my diary.

(Letter from Judith Ward transcribed in full).

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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.

-==-

Wednesday October 30, 1974

Birth of George II, 1683. Cold, autumn day again.

At lunchtime Sarah, Carol and I go into town where we queue to see Morecambe & Wise, who are at W.H. Smith's promoting a new book of theirs. We managed to get very close to them, and Eric said 'hello' to Sarah & I when we approached him to get his autograph. The character and personailty of these comedians is quite remarkable. The endearing quality of Eric Morecambe makes me a fan of his for life.

Kathleen said this morning that she thought the Queen looked 'ancient' at yesterdays State Opening of Parliament. I disagreed. Obviously, she looks every day of her forty-eight years, but I wouldn't say she was ancient.

Ring Lynne at 7 after seeing Morecambe & Wise on the BBC programme 'Nationwide'. We arrange to meet in Leeds at 12 tomorrow in order that we can go on a china tea-pot expedition to Schofields. She also wants a coat. We always end up talking for half an hour, but who cares anyway? By the way, somebody called Richard Nixon is seriously ill in America. I can't see why the papers are giving him so much publicity. Maybe he was something in the political world many yaesr ago. Is he important do you think?

John rings Chris and he picks us both up in the car at 8.30. We go to the Hare & Hounds where Carol and Christine are to to be found with Andy. To the Emmotts (except the ladies)for the last couple of drinks. The place looks hideous.

-==-

Tuesday October 29, 1974

Good day at the YP. Carol invites Sarah and I to her 'Bonfire Party' next Tuesday, and I noticed that Sarah was more than insistant on my going along.

Kathleen was on half day and we took it easy this afternoon. A cold day - even worse than yesterday.

Home at 6 for hare and Yorkshire Pudding. Alison looked somewhat startled when she saw the size of my portion of that little, four-legged creature.

Saw the Queen's Speech on TV at about 7 o'clock and I don't think I've seen it televised for some years. Princess Anne looked superb, but suffered a slight mishap in the Mall when her coach and horses became entangled with one another. Subsequently the Princess and Capt Phillips arrived at Westminster before the Queen and the duke. It strikes me that Princess Anne is accident prone. Her Majesty looks perfection itself, though probably a little wrinkled ubder the eyes. The Duke of Edinburgh sat on the Queen's left looking slightly bemused. Other Royals in the Lords numbered about six in all, including the Dukes of Gloucester, the Duke and Duchess of Kent, Lord Snowdon, Princess Alexandra and Earl Mountbatten of Burma, who didn't look at all well. It's nice to see Parliament opened properly, because when it was done last time, in March, none of the regalia wasused, and the Queen wore the same clothes which she adorned herself with at her daughter's wedding.

See TV all evening, including 'Jennie, Lady Randolph Churchill'. Bed at about 11 o'clock and sit reading 'Lord Emsworth and Others'.

-==-

Tuesday October 15, 1974

Good day really. Busy at the YP, and Carol is back after her sudden attack of generalelectionitis at the beginning of the month.

The Monday Club has asked Edward Heath to resign as party leader. He's going to speak to us all on the tv at 9.30 this evening.

Home at 6 and help Sue with her homework on volcanoes for about an hour. Ring Lynne but she isn't in. Speak to Peter instead and he says she'll ring me back later on. Is she being unfaithful? Am I to be deserted? All will be revealed.

Depart upstairs and dive into a warm bath to remove from my person the dirt and grime, odours and such like collected in my hard days toil at the YP.

Chris finished with Marita one year ago this very night. I can hardly remember them together. Last October seems a long, long time ago. Lynne rings at 9 and chats for half an hour. Meeting her tomorrow lunch. John goes out with Carol and sees Helen in the Woolpack, who says that Jackie's party is next Saturday, and wasn't last Saturday at all! Wild horses won't keep me away from this one.

See tv. A programme with Ludovic Kennedy on how the Tory party elects its leader. It includes old film of Sir Alec Douglas-Home and Harold Macmillan, &c. Poor Sir Alec. It was hardly worth his while renouncing the earldom (of Home).

-==-