Tuesday February 14, 1978

Moon's first quarter 22:11   St Valentine

Seasons Greetings

When All the World is young, lad
And all the trees are green,
with every goose a swan, lad
And every lass a Queen,
They hey for boot and horse, lad
Around the world way,
Young blood must have it's course, lad
and every dog his day.

This poem was inserted in my diary 5 years ago this day. Is it Kingsley? I like it. It could be by Karl Marx for all I know.

I did extremely well this Valentine's Day. I have checked previous years: 1977 ~ none; 1976 ~ 2; 1975 ~ none; 1974 ~ not recorded; 1973 ~ one from June Bottomley. How did I do in 1978? Well, 2 cards, and one passionate letter arrived in today's post. One card is postmarked Pulborough, West Sussex (no doubt from Jacq) and the other card is from Carole and postmarked Leeds. The letter is from Carole too.

It reads:


                                           Monday 13th Feb, 1978
                                           To Michael ~ How do you say goodbye?
                                           Don't Tell me not to cry.
                                          The warmth of your smile,
                                           The passion of your kiss,
                                           Is with me all the while,
                                           Is it to end like this?
                                           Please don't go my love
                                           You said you'd always stay,
                                           You gave me the greatest love of my life,
                                           Oh how can you walk away?
                                           I'd give my life to see you again
                                           That love in your eyes for me
                                           Love from Carole
                                                   xxxx
                                                    xxx
                                                     xx

Bloody Hell, she makes Lord Byron sound like Stan Ogden in one swoop of the pen. Hell, I didn't even send her a card. I shall have to get writing, and quickly. Do I get more points due to the fact that she's engaged to another?

I am pleased with today. I've just heard a piece of music called 'Romance' by Charles Widor which I find haunting and beautiful. I shall have to buy it and get it out of my system.

Wrote to David L and Christine.My letter to CB was one of complaint at not receiving a Valentine's card. Jacq and Carole will be dealt with ~ correspondence wise ~ tomorrow.

-=-

Monday February 13, 1978

A nasty, disappointing day. At the YP I find that Eileen is the only occupant of the Library ~ so that's an end to the Rawtenstall venture. Sarah is off with a stomach upset and Mrs ______ has 'the flu', or so we are informed by her horribly snobby mother. If this is the case the next time I have a cold I'm going to phone in and tell them I'm having an abortion.

I phoned Chris and told him I couldn't make it and he was good about it. He may not even go himself because of the weather.

At lunchtime I purchased three Valentine's cards and despatched them to Christine, Jacqui, and WPC Carolle Jones. I thought of sending one to Carole but decided against it. Fogarty would only make her life more of a Hell than it already is. It's a great pity that we cannot be friendly and nice to each other.

To other things: Mrs Thatcher's been making an impact at Harrogate where a Young Conservative thing is going on. She has an eleven per cent lead over the government according to an opinion poll (Ha Ha) but it seems that Callabum is determined to hang on until the Spring of 1979.

Peter Townsend was interviewed on TV tonight where he discussed Princess Margaret for the first time. He seems remarkable for a 63 year-old. Would things, one wonders, have worked out less sordid for the Princess had she married the Group Captain in 1955? Her love life since has definitely been one ghastly misfortune after another. Indeed, in a month's time the Snowdons will have been separated for 2 years and entitled to divorce. Snowdon wants to marry Mrs Lucy Lindsay-Hogg, reputedly his mistress. We shall have to wait and see.

To bed with Baroness Orczy at 12. Fell asleep with the bedroom light burning brightly.

-=-

Wednesday February 8, 1978

First Day in Lent. Ash Wednesday.

I am giving up spending money for Lent. Yes, I intend saving over £100. OK, you don't believe me but I'm going to show you just what willpower I do have.

Lady Jane Spencer.

Quite an ordinary sort of day. In 'The Times' engagements section I see that Lady Sarah Spencer's sister, Lady Jane, is to marry Robert Fellowes, assistant private secretary to the Queen. I passed this info on to Fred, who will do something for the YP 'People' column tomorrow. I bet Nigel Dempster and William Hickey will do something on this tomorrow. Is Lady Sarah going to take the plunge with HRH and make it a double event? This will be the theme.

Feel buggered and slightly dead. Because of this I have changed from red ink to this suitably sombre black. At home this evening I couldn't be bothered to do a single thing. Was tempted by an Alfred Hitchcock film on the BBC, but dozed in the chair like an octogenarian whilst the bulk of the murders were being carried out.

I have received a Valentine's card from WPC Carolle Jones. Yeah, a week early too. I quiver when I think of the recent night we spent in Burley in Wharfedale after Naomi's party. I like WPC Jones very much. She arouses in me some neolithic feelings that lay dormant when she is away back on the beat. Cor, I've never been out with a policewoman before. Penelope Keith's gone a step further and married a detective constable.


-=-

Saturday January 28, 1978

Sun rises 07:45 Suns sets 16:42

Up at 11. Naomi's 21st birthday party. I went to 10, Southway at noon. Susan was laughing as I headed down Hawksworth Lane with my coat pulled over my head reminiscent of a Saudi Arabian.

with WPC Carolle Jones.

Tremendous party. In answer to the question "Do Unitarian ministers get pissed at lunchtime?" it would only be fair to answer: "No, they do not. But they help everyone else become horribly so". The Rev. and Mrs Downing are very friendly, but old. His Reverence told me, quite confidentially, over the bottles in the kitchen, that he had celebrated his 39th birthday on his honeymoon.

Everyone you can possibly think of turned up. CB, Philip H, Carole, Fogarty, and Carolle Jones, of whom I am terribly fond. However, the vast quantity of booze proved hazardous for public relations. CB was pissed and in tears when her young man cleared off with fat Lynne from the Oval, and Fogarty took Carole home at about 3 after he discovered us fraternising in the 'bar'. She only had her arm through mine, nothing sexual. I felt awful about this because it ruined her afternoon. She told me she will write next week.

Naomi is divinely attractive, as is the nosh. Alas, garlic cropped up in most items on the menu. Richard Wellock had to smuggle CB home at 6 or perhaps 7, and Carolle J and I were left romantically linked. She's joining the police force a week on Monday.

Events from now become dreadfully hazy. Burley in Wharfedale, Flying Pizza, lager, cousin Dorothy, pool tables, Carolle in my old raincoat, &c. Yes, all this splashing around in my lager logged brain. I recoil in horror at the thought of visiting my fierce cousin Dorothy. C and I were horribly pissed, but as far as I can remember Dorothy was diplomatically silent on this. Carolle in my filthy, old raincoat looked spectacular. The Wharfedale Gate was the last pub we visited I'm sure. We were later refused entry at Il Trovatore before finding success at the Elma. Danced with Carolle all night and her last words to me were: "This time we must definitely keep in touch, Michael", said with a certain knowing look.

Home into bed with a gruesome headache at 1:45am.

-=-

Friday September 9, 1977

Busy at the YP. Just Kathleen and I. However, after eight hours toiling we were still living and I was out and finished for the weekend.

Tony took John and Maria to Blackpool for the day, and he rang at 6 to say he'd be over in a couple of hours with Martyn. To the Harrogate Arms where we met Naomi, Carolle Jones, Graham Peel, the Royal We, Carole, Fogarty, Dave Lazenby, Ron (Denise's Ron), and others. I just didn't feel right. Was sick to death of everyone. __________. Miss Phillips was a pain in the neck. Why does she have to be so bloody childish? Oh, what does it matter anyway? In 200 years time who'll give a damn? Three pints later we left for home.I informed them of my visit to Harewood next Friday. They want tickets too, but when I say they're £8 they fall into a silence. I say I'm staying in tomorrow, but neither believed me I think.

Mum and Dad were watching an ancient film 'Family Way' and I plonked myself down with them.

-==-

Friday September 2, 1977

Woke up this morning to find myself sharing Michael's double bed. He turned to me, touchingly I thought, and informed me that I am the last person he will have slept with before his marriage. I thanked him for the honour and wished him all the luck with Eileen, and hope he will be as happy with her as he has been with me. Taking a second look at me he sighed said that perhaps he was being rather hasty.

Got a bus with Eileen and her sister, Christine and arrived at the YP at 9.30. Work was ghastly. I took two large pills to try and persuade my head not to unscrew itself, but remained quite lifeless until lunchtime.

Harrogate Arms.

Met Naomi, Carolle Jones and Graham Peel in the Wellesley. A couple of drinks brought me round fabulously and the afternoon was a painless one.

Dave B took me to the Harrogate Arms tonight. Sue, Pete N, Martyn, Tony, Mrs Cole, Mrs Townsend, &c. Then Naomi came in with Graham P, followed by Pete M, Steve Hudson, Denise, Carole P, and Fogarty. Chatted with Carole, quite amicably, as to why Dave B was without Lynn. (She's gone to a RAF dispay at Cranwell with David Greenwood). Beryl Greenwood phoned tonight.

A good night at Harrogate nicely finished off with a prawn curry in Guiseley. Dave B was on top form.

-=-