Sunday July 23, 1978

9th after Trinity

Rain. Went to Leeds at 11:30 and met Jacq at the Y.W.C.A. We walked to Whitelocks and waited for Cheryl and Steve, the bloke who gave her a lift up to Leeds.

Just Jacq and I having a quiet drink until they rolled in at about 1pm. We had an hour there and then came home here where I gave them a few drinks. Mum was acting strangely and sat moping in the dining room.

Cheryl drank Cinzano. She wasn't as amusing as on previous occasions. She and Steve only see each other on Sundays. They left at about 3:30 and Jacq followed after tea. I feel listless.

-=-

Saturday July 22, 1978

Sun rises 05:09 Sun sets 21:04

Jacq went off to Dacre, Son & Hartley at 8:30. I loathe being at home. "My Heart Belongs to Ibiza, Dear Old Ibiza Town" is the refrain, &c.

Mum, Dad, Lynn, Sue, Pete and Dave went out at 8 with the Nasons to to the Riversdale at Burley-in-Wharfedale to celebrate Sue's 19th.

At 8:30 Jacq came up with Cheryl who is staying at the Dragonara in Leeds for the weekend. We had a few drinks and they made me listen to Pink Floyd's 'Dark Side of the Moon' and a Wishbone Ash LP.

At 9 I phoned Chippy at the Shoulder of Mutton pretending to be Eamon Andrews. It went down very well. The three of us went down to the Shoulder for a couple of hours. Chippy fancied his chances with Cheryl. Not a chance. She phoned for a taxi and she and Jacq went off to Leeds. Chippy was furious. He came back home with me and had a few beers and when Pete got back from the Riversdale he drove the lad home.

-=-

Friday March 17, 1978

St Patrick (Ireland)

Bank Holiday (N Ireland)

I was awakened at 6:00am by the radio singing away in the Luxembourg tongue. The bedroom light was burning brightly and within minutes I was cramming clothes into a ruck sack with one hand and brushing my teeth with the other hand. All very chaotic. Left at 7 with a happy heart and a dry, thickly lined throat. Drinking heavily before a long drive to the capital is not ideal.

Jacq was waiting at Victoria. To the Shakespeare pub nearby where gin ans Scotch ran like water ... or dry ginger. Jacq looked very well peeping at me beneath a fringe. Her long skirts with frilly petticoats hanging below. It was so good to see her.

Back at the flat I had rounds of toast whilst listening to the Doobie Brothers Greatest Hits singing away on her record player. Indeed, all is right with the world.

Tonight we met Cheryl and Steve and went to an Italian place on Muswell Hill Broadway. I had no appetite but enjoyed myself. Cheryl is a natural comedienne. Afterwards, Steve took us to his rugby club where the floor is swamped beneath two inches of beer and pissed guys stand raucously flashing everywhere. By this time I was already in financial straights. My tight jeans and boots didn't look quite as out of place at they do in Yorkshire.












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