Tuesday July 4, 1978

Out tonight with Christine at about 8:45. John came at about 8 in a new car, the type of which seems to have slipped my memory. It's big and green anyway.

He's selling the MG for £450 which is ridiculous. I wouldn't give him more than a couple of hundred for it. Christine had a giggle with him before our departure to the Fox & Hounds.

Jimmy Mac was in with bloody ____________. She considers herself to be such a superior young lady. _______________.

From the Fox & Hounds we did the usual ritual of the Hare & Hounds, the White Cross and finally the Crown at Yeadon. Philip was in the Drop and was sceptical about CB's Jersey project. He doesn't believe she'll do it, and even if she does go he says he has no intention of stopping her. She borrowed £1 from him to get some drink in.

We came back home quite pissed at 11:30 and had a few more drinks. She took a House of Holroyd shirt as a gift from me and left at about 12:30.

CB bought me a big pencil from her Jersey holiday and a badge with 'Jersey Tom' on it. To went off to bed quite canned.

-=-

Monday July 3, 1978

The same applies to Monday July 3. It was quite an ordinary day. I ventured to the YP and did my usual thing for the national output and received one or two phone calls. One was most definitely from Christine. We arranged to go out tomorrow, probably to the Drop. She wants to inform Philip of her intended flight to the Channel Islands. Another phone call came from an excited Dave G.

Ode to Princess Michael of Kent

Marie-Christine is your name,
I've seen you on the telly,
If I were the Prince I'd take my head
and lay it across your belly,

Roman Catholics can't get divorced,
This is a crying shame.

The Pope should mind his own business,
and his Archbishops should do the same.

-=-

Monday June 26, 1978

Christine phoned and we arranged to go out on Thursday evening. She has definitely set her heart on clearing off to Jersey next year to work in a bar. God knows how life will be without her bringing devastation and chaos to it. I must write to her soon because our correspondence is of vital historical importance. Since 1973 she's sent me over 70 witty, wonderful letters all of which I have stored away. One day we'll be bandied about in English Literature classes and on 'O' Level syllabuses with the likes of John Donne and E.M. Forster.

An Ode to Christine

You have for five years been a source of great joy,
You bring warmth to my heart which none can destroy.

Your virtues are many,
Your faults are quite rare,
But I'd never tell you,
I don't think I'd dare.

It's a pleasure to see you,
Of this I am sure,
My heart beats like fury,
I know of no Cure.

So, off to Jersey and see if I care,
I'd like to come with you,
But I don't have the fare.

M.L.R.

Thursday May 25, 1978

That nauseating, wriggling grub David Steel has announced today that the pact with the government will be ended at the close of the current parliamentary session in July in readiness for a clean sweep towards a general election. He must think we've all fallen off a Christmas tree or something, because I can tell you that the voting papers will still be warm in the ballot boxes when the swindling Liberals team up with Mr Callagas and his gruesome set.

Christine phoned today.

Tonight we expected Jim and Margaret Nason but they never materialised. Edith and Ernest are of course house hunting in far-off Devon. So, it was an unusually quiet night, and a hot one.

I'll fill in a bit of the blank page by mentioning Dad's moustache. He first grew one in 1973, but shaved it off in that historic year. His 1978 effort is even better, and I award him top marks for its high class cultivation, colouring, size, lustre, body and exquisite shape. Indeed, the facial adornment just sends the years rolling from him.

Goodnight.

-=-

Monday May 22, 1978

Full Moon 17:14

Overcast sort of day. I phoned Christine after lunch to say I stood outside her house at some ridiculous hour on Saturday morning in a feeble attempt to attract her attention. We laughed a good deal. Her car is having its MOT this week and so we are not having our weekly orgy. She was out with Carl or Karl on Saturday which confirms Jacq's report of seeing a man in her car on the night in question.

I also rang Michelle at Smith's and she broke the news to me that the bill for the holiday is in the post. More money to pay out.

Mum had her usual weekly 'go' at me over dinner. It was an attack on my financial, moral and romantic condition. She usually sticks to just one subject for each argument but today's was a multi combined assault resembling a scene from the Russian Revolution. She made several nasty cracks that I won't forget in a hurry. I am sure that at times she is unstable.

Passed the evening in front of the tv. News: a couple of Belgian taxidermists have been shot in Zaire and everyone seems to be in uproar about it. I fail to be shocked, horrified, surprised or remotely interested about what goes on in these 'Up the Jungle' Banana republics. Who cares whether Mr Mobutu's government is stable or not? Perhaps Mrs Mobutu, or maybe even his elderly mother, but certainly nobody else.

Her Majesty the Queen is in West Germany on her second state visit to that land. I was reading somewhere that in a recent opinion poll 85 per cent of voters said that would-be kaiser Prince Louis Ferdinand of Prussia would be the best man to be president of the republic ~ and he wasn't even on the list of candidates suggested in the poll!

-=-

Friday May 19, 1978

Met Jacq in the Central at lunchtime and discussed tonight's thrilling adventure. Having no idea where to go, we finally decide on Cinderella's. I don't think I've been since Dec 1976 when we went on the Christmas "do" there from the YP.

I got a bus at about 9pm to Leeds and met Jacq at the Jubilee, opposite the Town Hall, before moving to the Merrion Centre. She contributed £5 for her share of the evening's alcohol. In Cinderella's for 10:30. For most of the night the DJ played the 'Saturday Night Fever' LP which I (far more than poor Jacq) thoroughly enjoy. We didn't get smashed either, although we did blow £10. The dance floor was the coolest place to be and we danced like half-crazed Māori tribesmen until we were virtually thrown out at 2:15am.

The night was warm and light and after taking Jacq back to the hostel I set off along Burley Road in the direction of home. Again, I walked as far as Rawdon Crematorium before anyone decided I needed a lift.

On New Road Side I stood outside Christine's loudly whispering her name. Her bedroom light shone invitingly out across the sweet smelling Horsforth meadows, and my heart raced at the thought of her négligé clad form coming out to greet me.

It must have been about 5:0am when I eventually got to bed.

-=-

Tuesday May 9, 1978

Sarah and I went to Parker's wine bar at lunchtime. Had a couple of pints and a glass of dry white wine. She is a giggle is Sarah, but the soul destroying infatuation which ruled my thoughts for years on end is now over. She is attractive, humorous and enchanting but a relationship would never get off the ground. We discuss quitting the YP.

Hot day. Christine phoned this afternoon to say she went out last night with a guy she met at the party on Saturday. She refers to herself as a 'bugger'. She flies off to Jersey on Wednesday with with Mum. Paddy Braithwaite died a year ago this month. I do suppose they'll be thinking about him all the more.

Items of news: Aldo Moro, the former Italian PM who was kidnapped 54 days ago was found dead today. Lord Hillingdon, of Williams & Glyn's Bank, is dead too. Margaret Hilda Thatcher and Mr Callagas have been squabbling about knocking off one solitary penny in the pound in Income Tax. Fools. The Queen is still wearing spectacles when reading in public.

Mum visited Dr Mellor this morning and he did nothing but talk about Dad and how marvellous the British police force is. In the surgery she chatted to a woman with a baby called Peter. The woman told her Peter is becoming popular again thanks to Princess Anne. I don't think so.

John came up to see Lynn and Dave about something. He told me Tony has moved to Shipley and is throwing a party there on Saturday. He and Maria are going. _____________________.

Bed at midnight.

-=-

Saturday May 6, 1978

Sun rises 05:24 Sun sets 20:31

Auntie Mabel phoned this morning to say that Uncle Jack's (Myers) days are numbered. Cousin Jackie had phoned her to say the family had been summoned to the hospital to be told nothing can be done to stop the cancer. Auntie Eleanor is going to sell her shop. The poor family must be in torment.

Jacq and I listened to records all day and Dave B took us in the Spitfire to the Hare at 8:30. The place was like Belsen, but without the rotting corpses. So deserted. From here we went to the Fox where Christine joined us at 9. After a short debate we moved to the Crown at Yeadon, which is packed with the cream of local society. The majority of ladies here are like Roman goddesses.

Philip Knowles, exceedingly drunk, invited us all to his girlfriend's party in Guiseley. She is Jane Sinclair, sister of the notorious _____. I was surprised when Christine expressed a wish to go. It didn't take me long to realise just how much she and P still think of one another. I think it would be great if they could be back together.

The party was back at Guiseley (on Victoria Road, above the fish and chip shop). Knocking back the booze and dancing to Rod Stewart LPs. Poor Jacq regurgitated much of tonight's alcoholic intake. She didn't pass out though, like some people. Poor Philip was one of the first to keel over.

I bumped into Lynne Sykes and we had a good long chat reminiscing about Benton (Park). One way or another it was just like old times and I didn't feel like a nerdish 23 year-old with one knee in the grave, which was refreshing. Christine was a sorry figure because she was hitting it off with Philip so well, and when he crashed out in his girlfriend's bed it left her stranded. She danced a good deal.

Home at 4:30 to a damned dawn chorus.

-=-

Friday May 5, 1978

A wet day, again. I met Jacq at the Ostlers and I had a cheeseburger sandwich and consumed a moderate measure of ale. I intended buying a shirt for £10 but the shop only had the one on display and the nasty (shop) assistant was not prepared to take it from the window. It's probably a blessing because my finances are revoltingly low this week.

Tonight I met Jacq in the rain at 8:30 and we spent the evening at the Drop Inn. Christine and Mary came in for ten minutes at 10:30. We arranged to see Christine at the Fox tomorrow. _______________.

At 11pm we made our way homeward via Green Bottom fish and chip shop, and we sat playing records and drinking stout until a disgusting hour.

I really do think that Jacq should stop smoking. __________. Just think what her lungs will look like in a few years time if she continues this experiment of self-pollution. W.D. & H.O. Wills deserve to rot in Hell.




-=-

Thursday April 27, 1978

Lunch at the Ostlers with Jacq.

To Oakwood Hall tonight with Christine. First we went to the Hare & Hounds for one miserable drink in the company of poor Kathryn Young. No sighting of Judith, but I was told she was 'lurking' behind the bar with her 'young man'.

The night was an amusing one anyway. We laughed at the young boys who were attempting to imitate John Travolta whenever a Bee Gees record was played. "Oh, so you've seen the film too" was Christine's quip on the dance floor.

We didn't drink to excess. I drank cider. The lager was discarded completely. Home at nearly 2:0am. We caused a riot on the lane. Even Jim Rawnsley was awakened by the screams of laughter.

-=-

Monday April 24, 1978

Up to Rawdon to see old Hough (dentist). As usual I need a couple of teeth filling and have to go back on May 4.

Sarah took me to Rawdon in Delia's car, which was good of her. I'm supposed to be going to tea with them both next week. Whether I shall or not depends on the movements of Mr W.A. Collis, because I'm never entertained there when he's lodging at home. He hates me.

Jacq started work today at Dacre, Son & Hartley. I phoned her tonight to see how things went. She says OK. The money is ghastly after London but that's the way things are. It's Dacre's dinner dance on Saturday and I'm accompanying Jacq. More expense!

We are going for a quick drink on Wednesday lunchtime, not before. She is attempting to manage my financial affairs. I have every intention of achieving solvency by August or September.

Sandy Denny, the singer, is dead.



Christine phoned. Goodnight.

-=-

Wednesday April 12, 1978

Snow again, but warm and sunny later on. Work was quite busy and the Budget dominated the papers which is a great bore. I won't notice my extra £1 I can tell you. It (the Budget) may have been Denis Healey's last one. Sir Geoffrey Howe could be at the helm by Christmas.

I am reading (from the library yesterday) the diaries of Samuel Pepys 1659-69. I always imagined the diaries covered more years than this but it seems the poor man went blind after ten years of copiously scribing away about such things as the Great Fire of London. In 1983, if I'm still here, I may well have written more than Mr Pepys, and who knows where it will all end if I'm fit and well in the 2040s. Ooh, I do feel historic.

However, the only exciting thing for me to communicate is that I phoned Jacq at 8. The poor girl's working again tomorrow and we aren't going out until Friday.

Christine phoned me on Monday and mentioned going to Yeadon Fair, but if no vast multitude of friends wish to accompany us I can't see the point of it. Jacq, Christine and I on a roundabout would look really pathetic I think. Miss Sate was very cheerful and seems to enjoy the YWCA with all its grotesque inmates and odd characters. I think she's incredibly brave and valiant.

I was reading a report today in an old copy of The Times (from last week) which stated that in 1941 Sir Winston Churchill in a letter expressed his desire to be cremated. Good heavens! How would we have managed the remainder of the war without him? Thank God they didn't grant him his wish. If Lady Churchill had been burnt at the stake in the 1940s then today Britain would have a marvellous Graham Sutherland portrait of the old boy to admire.


Canaletto ....

In front of the TV this evening. Pete N and Dave B joined us of course. The Duke of Beaufort was on BBC1 talking about Badminton (House) and the horse trials, &c. Dad made his usual cutting remarks about the aristocracy. All you need is a red face, tweed jacket, two acres and a Canaletto and Papa's wrath is immediately aroused.

-=-

Saturday April 8, 1978

Sun rises 06:21 Sun sets 19:45

John fell over me on his way to work at 8am. I was lying prostrate on his sofa covered in most of my brother's bedding, so I could quite understand his unsmiling and glaring expression. The next visitor to my lying-in-State was Master John Philip Hugh Rhodes. He was in a shy and cuddly mood. _____________. My nephew is nothing short of luscious. (Christ, I sound like one of those nauseating paedophiliacs, or whatever the term is for a child-molester.)

I dumped sweet Jacqueline onto a Leeds bus and got myself home for 10am. The house resembles the Banqueting Hall at Whitehall and is decorated throughout with floral tributes.


Pine Tops: for sale at £21,000.

An advert in today's YP announces that Pine Tops is for sale for £21,000. Let me tell you now that this is a bargain. Quite a few people phoned about the ad and one moronic couple called in the afternoon.

Tonight: Met Jacq at 7:45 and went to the Drop. Mrs Hanson (land lady) was very civil and gushing. Joined by Christine, who met Jacq for the first time. David L (in great form), John, Maria, Lynn and Dave B. At ten, after laughing about brown plastic 1 gallon buckets, we went to Scamp's disco in Bradford. The place is appalling and packed with city whores. Most of the males seem to be on leave from Catterick. I went to the loo. It resembled the loss of the Titanic and the sinking of HMS Hood rolled into one. Swamped we were. However, we stuck it out until 2 and then took Christine to Horsforth and Jacq to Leeds. A memorable evening, but none of those poor souls present (in our party) will ever darken the doorstep of Scamp's again.

-=-

Saturday April 1, 1978

Sun rises 06:37 Sun sets 19:33

Further property speculation, Jay, the snobbish proprietor of 52, Hawksworth Lane attempted to to 'gazump' Mama and Papa for a friend, who wishes to live in this lovely area. Poor Ern was offered £750 more for his house, but he and Edith stuck to their guns and told Jay to bugger off. Friendship is nice and useful at times like this.

My health is worse, I fear. My throat is hideously swollen and a bitter, foul taste lurks on every morsel of food I devour. Poor Dave must be fed up by my moronic appearance. I am doing my utmost to undertake the scheduled functions that were already in the pipeline. Take this afternoon for instance. The whole clan trudged to Morrison's (in wet, soggy conditions)at 11:45 and afterwards we supped at the Clothiers. Ernest accompanied us too, and he told us that the pub was the first he had ever been in all those years ago. The Clothiers has a lot to answer for.

This afternoon we watched the Grand National. Red Rum was nowhere to be seen and an obscure animal called Lucius won. Ernest walked away with the £2 winners prize in our own private stake, and Sue achieved second and third place.





Tonight we went to the Hare to collect Christine. She was in a foul mood & I was immediately depressed by her attitude. From here we joined the mob at the Shoulder of Mutton where Christine and I poured booze over each other and hurtled abuse. Peter's friends watched us with glassy eyes and panting breath. Christine never fails to be a sex symbol on these occasions. She inspires boys to be men with no trouble at all. Anyway, to leave Helen of Troy on one side for a minute I'll just say we joined John and Maria at Oakwood Hall which was abominable. Heat unbearable. Drinking pints of perspiration. I thought Maria was going to keel over and die. Susan wanted to leave early and so we left at 1am. Slept on the way home. Throat is chronic.




-=-

Thursday March 30, 1978

Without further ado I picked up the phone, dialled a Guiseley number, spoke to a polite young bank clerk (female) and made an appointment to see the manager tomorrow concerning a personal loan. Barclaycard is going for good, and tomorrow may see the dawn of a new era. A Brave New World in fact. Tonight I met Christine at the Drop and my financial position was the principal topic of conversation. Hilarity. I was clad in my tight 31" inside leg jeans which, according to Christine, makes me look like a puff. We howled about it. My half mast trousers, she says, remind her of the Union flag over St Paul's Cathedral at Sir Winston Churchill's funeral. I do like short jeans though and CB isn't the fashion correspondent of the Yorkshire Post. I take no notice of others when it comes to fashion, sex, good looks, &c. From the Drop we made our way to the Yorkshire Rose. Even Christine detects a weird, eerie atmosphere in this ancient place of refreshment. I have proclaimed for years that something is seriously amiss in the tap room here, and the sight of ailing veterans of the Somme and Ypres chatting up 14 and 15 year-olds is quite nauseating. (The Somme and Ypres were World War I battle grounds, in case you're too young to know). Christine moaned about one of her ears being out of action, but otherwise it was all sunshine, champagne and dafodils. I deposited the sweet child onto a bus at 10:45 and made my way home laden with fish and chips. The Thursday night Nason/Blackwell session was in full swing. -=-

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.

-=-

Saturday March 25, 1978

Sun rises 06:53 Sun sets 19:22

Last Day of Lent

I cannot really capture the humour and hilarity of situations. The previous page, for instance, is just a list of events conveying none of the fantastic jokes. I do try at least.

Chippy attempted to annoy me last night (and I mean ALL night) by saying outrageous things like 'the Queen has three tits'. Gus did nothing but sing abusive home made verses all night and only Johnny slept for any of the time.

AT 6:00am I was awakened by an unfamiliar flapping noise to discover the tent in pieces around our sleeping forms. Johnny noticed this too and we ran about the field clad only in underpants and boots reassembling the devastated tent. Wet and bedraggled we returned to our damp sleeping bags for a few hours. Yes, the weather is somewhat different to yesterday's heatwave.

By 9 the sun was shining and Sue was taking photographs of scantily clad males when she should have been frying bacon and things. Chippy made a nauseating breakfast and then we just waited until the Fountain opened it's doors. All afternoon in the pub wasn't just a boozing exercise ~ it was shelter from the hail, snow ~ yes SNOW that had decided to pelt us after lunch. A gloomy mob ~ including a couple of new arrivals ~ sat deciding the fate of the expedition. Sadly, we chose to return to civilisation, and we did so with great haste at about 3:30. Although we had only one night it was well worth it. I think I have got to know this year's holiday companions much better, and as soon as the travel agents open on Tuesday I'm going to cancel.

Susan is incredible. I must be infatuated with my little sis. Her personality is so pleasantly extrovert and mature and I get the feeling I have underestimated her for years. She can certainly take care of herself in the company of crude, offencive youths and come out on top. She's a natural leader of men. I can see her as a successor to Margaret Thatcher with no trouble at all.

We are home for 5. Dave L phones to say I have to join him ten pin bowling and go afterwards with him, and Christine, to Oakwood Hall and Carol Smith's engagement party. I said no, but Christine rang minutes later and she told me I have no choice in the matter. To the bowling therefore with my arm up my back. Christine looked ravishing. Never have I seen her look so desirable. I could have devoured her on the spot. I fact she put me off my bowling skills.

To Oakwood Hall at 8:30 and we did nothing but laugh hysterically all night. In fact it became quite ridiculous. David, Christine and I are the only energetic people left. For hours we watched ~ open mouthed ~ whilst John, Maria, and others sat around discussing the finer points of plastic buckets and Vymura wallpaper. Is this what marriage is all about? David is a great guy. Tony and Martyn came in.

Much booze and much dancing and many laughs later we came home. It was only midnight, but on Easter Saturday discotheques close early for some pathetic reason. No doubt the Pope objects to us, the three nut cases, going out on the town. Oh, how we enjoyed tonight.



-=-

Thursday March 23, 1978

Maundy Thursday.

Mama and Papa had a Maundy Thursday wine party for the Nasons and Edith & Ernest. I was subdued for some reason. Mama pointed this out to me. I cannot be forever hurtling around like a circus act but today I do feel uncommunicative, quick tempered and morose. Sorry. The wine flowed nicely but I stuck to ale for a change. I did not want a crashing hangover for tomorrow's expedition up the Wharfedale valley. David L phoned to see what I was up to and he said he was going to call in tomorrow with a rabbit for Mama as an Easter gift. An Easter Bunny as it were. He was very cheerful & it was great to hear him.

Princess Margaret: 'parasite'.

I heard from Christine today and she was sad at the thought of my absence over the festive season. I told her I would phone tomorrow with my holiday itinerary. If it hails and pisses down tomorrow one place where I will not be closeted over Easter is in a tent, waterproof or otherwise.

Mr Prefab Mobile-Home, MP, today referred to Princess Margaret as a 'parasite' in the House of Commons. The acting Speaker asked him to withdraw the insult and the offensive communist swine did so. These terrible men really should be suspended from sittings following disgraceful episodes of this kind. The poor princess cannot even answer her critics and must go on, undaunted, with her public duties with the brilliance and expertise for which she is renowned throughout the entire civilized world.

-=-

Monday March 20, 1978

Work was busy. Sarah should have been back from her revolting week with the equally revolting Welsh but poor Delia broke her arm yesterday, falling over the telephone, and is, by all accounts, in a terrible state. Sarah will be tied up now playing Dr Kildare for weeks on end.

Peter James Nason is twenty today. Sue and I had tea quite alone and then Peter came and carried her off for a drink somewhere. Lynn got in later and we watched a comedy film on the BBC which gave us a good laugh. In one scene Leslie Phillips was in the bath with a steaming hot pressure cooker trying to get at the contents.

We had a few glasses of wine to celebrate Peter's birthday, and when they came back at 11 the three of us (Lynn having retired to her boudoir) cooked a meal and noshed away like pigs. Really enjoyable. They say that a camping jaunt is organised for Hawes at the weekend and I am invited with some gusto. No doubt to 'chaperone' my little sister who will otherwise be the sole girl in a tent on some windswept heath with fifteen drunken males. I agreed to join the party.

The thought of the Fox and Hounds with all those happy, smiling faces featured greatly in my decision making. Anyway, I'll have no money to speak of and the delights of darling Christine cannot be obtained free of charge. Do not, dear reader, assume that I am paying the above mentioned dear lady for carnal delights. I'm just pointing out that vodka does not grow on trees.

-=-

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.

-=-