Monday December 11, 1978

Wedwood Benn: future prime minister

I am very worried about Anthony Wedgwood Benn. The Daily Mail seems to think that this man is a future Prime Minister and this really worries me ~ especially at breakfast time when I am inclined to fits of morose depression. I left for the YP with a black cloud hanging over me. What's the bloody point in carrying on when communism, decay and drab uniformity lie at the end of life's sombre pathway?

Rang Janet at WH Smith's and told her to go ahead for the booking of the Ibiza '79 holiday. At lunch I dashed to the closest travel agent and picked up a Thomson's brochure to look at the Hotel Galfi. It seems quite nice. It only has 40 bedrooms. Phoned Dave G tonight. We laughed. After two hours at the Galfi everyone will know us intimately. He's going to see Garry later. Bill is dead chuffed about the whole business. The nasty part about it is that Smith's want a £20 deposit from all of us by the weekend. I collected some coach tour brochures for Mum and she fancies a trip to Yugoslavia next June as part of her Silver Wedding celebrations. Disgraceful that she wants to spend a holiday in the Eastern bloc alliance. It is no idea of fun to me. I suppose Mr Benn and his leftie pals from the House of Commons spend holidays in the Warsaw Pact countries, but Michael Rhodes never shall. President Tito can go piss off.

Saw Monty Python on the BBC followed by a Jane Fonda film. To bed hideously tired at 12:30.

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Saturday April 29, 1978

Moon's last quarter 22:02

Sun rises 05:37 Sun sets 20:30

Slept until 12:15pm and then did very little other than swim around in the bath listening to the record player. Dad spent the day hacking in the shrubbery and Mum attempted to persuade me to join him but I resisted.

At about 5:30 - 6 o'clock I walked down to Guiseley and attempted to get a bus to Leeds but failed. I met the small, young YP photographer who'd been to the Guiseley Town football match, and we went for a train which didn't come until 6:30. I collected Jacq at 7.

A couple of Jacq's colleagues from Dacres took us to the Lawnswood Arms where the Dacre, Son and Hartley dinner/dance was under way. We drank, ate and danced until 1am.

Pleasurable it all was. Jacq was wearing the pink number she wore at Pete (Sate's) 21st. One thing's for sure ~ Jacq is very popular with the menfolk. They flock to her like bluebottles in a public convenience, and just stare, open mouthed. Her Cockney accent is a leading hypnotic power. I certainly had the feeling that 2,000 over-sexed estate agents would like to see me beneath the wheels of a West Yorkshire bus.

I got a lift home and sat with Mum, Dad, Sue and Peter arguing about politics ... again. Nason is now a bloody communist.

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