Sunday August 28, 1977

12th after Trinity.  An article of the Sunday Trash says our dear Princess Margaret is suffering from porphyria, the 'Royal Malady', and it says this accounts for her irrational behaviour and the break down of her marriage. Utter and complete rubbish I'm glad to say.

Dave G, Dave B, Lynn, Sue, Peter N, and I went to the Commercial from 12 until 2. Joined later by Mum and Dad who bump into cousin Brian (Myers) and Valerie in a dark corner and chat with them for over an hour. Valerie is very attractive, but childless. They have no news of Jennifer (Myers) and her imminent delivery. No doubt Auntie Mabel will be informed of the news when it occurs.

Redgrave & Jackson.

A hot, sunny afternoon. We sat outside discussing friendship, and particularly, Glenn. Back at Pine Tops, very hot weather, we sprawl on the lawns and muck about in deckchairs. Hilarious afternoon.

After 'Sunday dinner' we collapsed in the lounge. Joined by Martyn. We just watched TV. 'Mary Queen of Scots' starring Vanessa Redgrave and Glenda Jackson.

Everyone laughs at Dave G. He's so funny. The ladies especially rock with laughter. Lynn made a pile of sandwiches and then we watched another film, a romance set in the 16th century. Quite good, but too sloppy.

-=-

Saturday August 27, 1977

Stuart (Newton) and Christine (White) were married at St John's (church), Yeadon, at 2pm. We only just made it to the ceremony after a somewhat farcical chase across Aireborough, and our arrival at the church coincided with that of the bridesmaids and other important personages.

Stuart & Christine

Sue, Pete N and I sat with Messers Ratcliffe and Mather, and Lynn and Dave B sat warbling behind. Christine looked very nice, Stuart looked petrified. A horrible sight to see a man so frightened. We needed a 'Scarlet Pimpernel' figure to perhaps come and rescue him.

The reception at the Colours Restaurant at Horsforth went off brilliantly. Home at about 7pm nicely stewed. David G arrived at Pine Tops just as we got in. His Ibiza pictures are incredible. Martyn joined us at 9 and we went back to Horsforth to continue the festivities, the happy couple having left for Scarborough some hours previously. More drink in larger quantities. Mrs White is a darling and I gave her a large kiss on leaving. Chatted with Linda and Andy. Very congenial.

Took Martyn to Ilkley and then entertained Dave G to 'home brew' until some ridiculous hour of the morning. Why do we do such things? Agreed, it's my Plantagenet nature peeping through from the depths of the Middle Ages. Edward III liked the occasional beer, you know.

-=-

Wednesday August 3, 1977

Dave Glynn's 23rd birthday. I must give him a buzz to organise the holiday reunion party. We can't lose contact with dear John, Steve and Noel. Stayed in bed until after 9 o'clock. After all, I didn't get in until 5.30. I cannot be expected to have a mere two hours sleep and then roll into the office. I phoned Sarah to break the news of my absence and she was quite chirpy and nice. "I hope you'll soon be better" she chirped.

Lady Sarah Spencer: no beauty.

Frank Perfect, the husband of the sweet, little old lady from Westgate, Tranmere Park, who befriended me in my newspaper delivery days, is dead. I haven't seen either of them for two or three years, but they took a real shine to me and always made me feel welcome. He was only 62. He was the general factory manager of J.I. Case Co Ltd, manufacturers of construction equipment, and in charge of their Leeds plant since 1964. Perhaps I should send Mrs P a letter or something.

The Prince of Wales Romance Stakes are opening again. We now have three candidates in the running (according to the beloved Press). They are: Davina Sheffield, Princess Marie-Astrid and the Lady Elizabeth Sarah Lavinia Spencer. Lady Sarah is a daughter of the 8th Earl Spencer and is step-daughter of Raine, Countess Spencer, who was previously Lady Dartmouth. Her ancestors include at least three dukes, Marlborough, Abercorn and Bedford, and the Earls of Lucan crop up once or twice in her lineage. However, she is no beauty. After the gorgeous Davina Sheffield I'm afraid it's all down hill as far as I'm concerned. I just don't know what HRH must be thinking. A big, stately home in Kent standing empty (Chevening), just waiting for the feminine touch of some willowy princess, but he's making no attempt to provide the nation with one. The Duke of Edinburgh once made a speech about 'pulling the finger out', well I think he should get onto his eldest son.

-=-

Sunday July 3, 1977

4th after Trinity. Sat in the garden from 11.30 until nearly 3. Wonderful day. Mr Ratcliffe and Mr Mather called in with the flight tickets and holiday itinery.

Chris & Pete.

I entertained them in the lounge while attempting to devour a salad and speak to Tony on the blower at the same time. Chris and Peter still push the idea that we should go to Denise's party and then go to Manchester with them but I'm adamant. Besides, the flight has been altered to 9.35am - so they'll have to set off at about 5am to get the airport in time.

At the YP tonight I phoned Dave G to tell him Mr Mather would be contacting him to secure garage space for his van. We had a really good chat. How great is this holiday going to be? Work was dead. Wendy is nice though.

-=-

Sunday June 5, 1977

Trinity Sunday. Yes, collapsed at about 6.15am. The lounge was the site of this pathetic breakdown. Slept until elevenish. Never have I felt so miserable in my whole life when I eventually surfaced. Dark glasses were immediately salvaged from the wreckage that was once Pine Tops and breakfast was taken in horrific circumstances. The other participants, Dave, Glen, Martyn and the ladies Lynn & Sue all seemed to be calm and free from pain.

Commercial at Esholt

To the Commercial at noon. Yet more lager was consumed by Martyn and myself. Dave G had one miserable pint of bitter and then converted to Coca cola and Glen stuck to soft drinks throughout. Four or five pints later I felt infinitely better. Am I perhaps reliant on alcohol?

Tony came down with a buxom maiden and a split in his trousers and indulged in the usual frivolities. She, the buxom maiden, seemed quite nice, and in the usual cast.

with Martyn & Glen

Back to Pine Tops for lunch at 2. Martyn and I are pissed up. Dave, Glen, Martyn and I then went to see John & Maria and JPH for half an hour and then the lads returned to Stockport. I'll be going down to see them soon - my next free Saturday is June 25. I'll make a state visit then.

Lynn, Dave B, Sue, Pete N, Martyn and I went to the Flying Pizza in Leeds and had a Jubilee nosh up. A good laugh. It's a rare event these days to get out for something to eat. We do seem to be motivated by drink - a sad reflection on the youth of today. Forever Pissed, is an apt motto. On to the Oddfellows at Greengates where Michelle is with her boyfriend. Have a bit of a chat - but no mention of Friday's romantic grapple up against Tony's car.

-==-

Friday June 3, 1977

Dave of Stockport rings to say Glen is having a spot of car trouble and that they are now coming tomorrow instead.

Tony.

Tony and I spent the whole day in the garden sunbathing. Just sprawled out in the garden covered in sun tan lotion with the radio serenading us. Wonderful. Mother brought a halt to this when she asked us to go to Morrison's to do the weekly shop for her. We went up at 4 o'clock. Just imagine - me and Tony with a trolley and shopping bags. He's quite a good bargain finder too - he must be used to it what with him once being a married man & the obligations that go with that institution. Mother was very relieved and grateful when she saw the £14 worth of goods piled in the kitchen awaiting her inspection. She loathes shopping.

Meanwhile: that night. Out with Tony and Martyn to the Bod (Bradford) where we meet Michelle and her friends. A nice girl called Mary caught my eye. I have a feeling that Michelle fancies me. Do I fancy her? Well, she's very nice looking, perhaps a bit fat, but endowed with a sweet personality.

We all go on to the Hare & Hounds at Heaton which is very full. Martyn paled with anger and became quite violent in the seething pack of sweating bodies. Took Michelle and the girls home. We kissed against the car. Tony found this very funny sand suggested that Martyn might drive the car in future so that he could sit in the back. He couldn't see why I should have all the fun. In by 11.30pm.

-==-

Wednesday May 25, 1977

Hot day. Home by 5 and fully expect to stay in tonight but it is not to be. Martyn rings after tea and suggests going for a drink in Guiseley. Bloody Hell! Why not? Top marks for this brilliant idea, Martyn! He comes up and 8 and we walk over the fields to the Commercial (dear Beckindale in the classic tv series 'Emmerdale Farm'). We begin with lager and go on to pernod and by 10pm we're quite pissed.

Martyn: brilliant idea

You won't believe this but we decided over our second pernod to go work in Ibiza or Majorca after our holiday. OK, I've said it all before but I've never had anyone to team up with before and Martyn is just as much pissed off with the United Kingdom of Gt Britain as I am. Tony too and Dave of Stockport wouldn't mind leaving this miserable land to find a life of fortune in the Ballearic Islands. How do we go about getting there though? Do we write to the Spanish Embassy or the British Tourist Board? Or what?

We walked home over the fields again but now heavily laden with cow excreta and a profusion of nettles seem to have mysteriously appeared. Up to our buttocks in shit. Home by 10.30 and I entertain Martyn to coffee and toast thickly spread with mustard. He waits to be collected by Karen (Cole) who makes an appearance near midnight. In the cold light of tomorrow morning I will probably think the whole idea of drifting off to Spain is bloody idiotic, but now - here at this minute - all I can think is 'Why not?'


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Sunday May 15, 1977

Hereward the Wake

Rogation Sunday. Up at 6.30am with the biggest hangover history has ever seen. The combined hangovers of Hereward the Wake, Edward the Confessor, Napoleon, George Bernard Shaw and Mitzi Gaynor only equal half the one I experienced this morning. Water. All I wanted was water. I would have willingly swapped my best girl for a glass of chilled H2o. Dave obliged by rushing to the bathroom and bringing me a cup full. Passed into unconsciousness and slept until about 10.30. Discuss Glenn's disappearance but we decide not to visit his residence just in case he never made it home last night. Good God. Suppose he's fallen into the Manchester Ship Canal?

Mitzi Gaynor.

Dave accidentally locked his bedroom door with the key inside and we spent half an hour trying to break in. Eventually we used a large built gent from the tap room as a battering ram. Dave and I were in the bar by 12.10 and ale was supped until 2pm. joined by Garry and another guy whose name escapes me. At 2 Dave and I take lunch in the private apartments of the Hollywood and we shared a bottle of wine (Chevalier de la Rose Grand vin De Bourgogne. Importers H. Sichel and Sons Ltd, W2). Not too bad.

Glenn called on us with his holiday money (£145) and the three of us went to the pool room for a game. Laugh myself stupid at Dave who clowns around like no one I've ever known. At 7 o'clock it's time to part. Had a word with Jim Glynn and went to the bar and bought Mrs G a drink and said farewell. The lads took me to Manchester at 7.30-ish and I was home by 10.30 with £290 in my pocket. The lads are coming on June 3 and I plan to go back to Stockport on July 9, the day before 'Operation Ibiza'.

Martyn and Tony are at Pine Tops and M gives me a blank cheque for tomorrow's pilgrimage to WH Smith and Sons. Bath and bed at approximately midnight.

-=-

Saturday May 14, 1977

Susan wakes me at 8.30 and I leave for Leeds at about 10 o'clock.  Say farewell to Uncle Bert who is injecting some foul smelling liquid into the stub where his poor leg once reclined. Nauseating, eh?

Leave Leeds at 1055 and get into Manchester by 12.15. I walk through Manchester wearing a blue and white striped T-shirt. This may seem to be a normal thing to do, and indeed had I adorned my body with the said T-shirt in Cambridge, Milford Haven and possibly Carnarvon it would have been. Not Manchester, however. The local dominant football team are quite partial to a more crimson hue. Yes, Manchester Utd, of course. I sought refuge in a telephone box to avoid a particularly vicious looking mob. As I crouched 'neath the volumes of yellow pages my thoughts were with Queen Marie Antoinette and how she must have felt as the filthy Parisians dragged her through the streets in a rickety tumbril.

Got to Stockport and met Dave G. He informs me that my troublesome shirt is in the colours of Stockport County FC and gives me a pat on the back and takes me to the Unity for a drink. Six or seven drinks to be exact. Meet a couple of his friends - Steve (who I met last time), Garry and Billy. A sobering stroll round Stockport.  The climax of the afternoon is a coffee in a Wimpy Bar.

The Hollywood Hotel

Back to the Hollywood and meet Mr & Mrs Glynn. See the Muppets on TV. Also see Glenn.

To the Unity with with Dave G, Glenn, Garry, Steve and Billy plus two unnamed females who are lovely little movers, and one of them (Holly) fancies me, I think. Go by taxi to the Poco Club where 'The Brothers' are appearing. (The do "Sing Me" which they had in the charts). We didn't even see them anyway and got pissed in the adjoining disco. Glenn disappeared at 1am after an ice throwing contest with Dave and I as we did our usual formation dance routine. Really a hysterical evening. Dave and I back to the Hollywood at 2.30am by taxi and sleep head to toe (or arse to tit) in Dave's large bed.

-=-

Wednesday April 27, 1977

Am I becoming boring again? Do let me know if I am. A lovely day with the birds singing up above, and all that.

Glynnie.

Sarah is in high spirits and we laugh just like in old times. Everyone's become far too serious lately. O for the joys of Spring!

Rang Judith at 6. She was in the bath but her mother acted as a messenger girl and I'm told she can go out tonight but not tomorrow. I have no money but Mama - bless her - has promised to lend me a couple of quid until I come into my fortune.

John and Dad are under the car again. I will nominate both of them to His Holiness for canonization. St Lawrence, patron saint of Old Bangers, &c.

Princess Caroline

To get to the important things: The Queen and Queen Mother are visiting Baron and Baroness Philippe de Rothschild in France and the Prince of Wales and Duke of Edinburgh are on their way via Nice to Monaco. Is it wedding bells for Prince Charles and Princess Caroline? I bet the Mail and Express will be hinting at this in the morning. Sarah makes me laugh. She says Princess Caroline is "lacking in virtue".

Dave from Stockport rings at 7.30 to see when we're going over to collect his £142. May 7 or May 14 seem to be possible dates. I've only got about £50 saved up. Aaarrghh!

Met Judith at the Hare and Hounds at 9 o'clock - she is of course with Kathryn (who is very nice) but I would like to see Judith alone occasionally. Stay until about 11 and feel a bit pissed, as indeed I always do when I'm with Judith. Kathryn takes us back to her chambers at Highroyds (the asylum) where we drink wine and mess about with her typewriter. Back to Judith's for fried egg and rissole sandwiches until 2am. Home very tired and with a heavy head. Kathryn driving, of course.

-=-

Sunday April 3, 1977

Palm Sunday. Palm Sunday indeed. With Dave G, Glenn, Christine, Lynn and Dave B, Mum & Dad to the Commercial at noon. The locals didn't trot ahead in front of me throwing palms and other objects of flora in my path. Dad wasn't astride a donkey either.

with CB: in perfect shape.

Lynn is like a zombie. Dead to the world. We all - that is everyone on the above list - felt recovered somewhat with the medicinal intake of alcohol. Alas, the drink must have effected my eyes because the ink here has changed to something strongly resembling black currant. Was I drinking vodka and black last night?

CB is in perfect shape. Just like old times. It makes life well worth living. All back to Pine Tops for luncheon. Horrified by the idea of working this evening. It's pouring with rain too and CB looks expectantly at people, fluttering her eye lashes, in an attempt to get a lift to the bus stop. No such bloody luck. We walked into Guiseley in a deluge and waited for what seemed like all eternity for the public transport.

Nothing of interest at the YP. Dead in fact. Ursula is a nice girl. I'm a nice boy. You're a patient reader.




-=-

Saturday April 2, 1977

Wait all day for Dave G and Glenn. Watched the Grand National on TV at 3.30. Red Rum won for the third time making history. We had a private bet on at home. Sue backed the winner.One of mine fell at the first fence and had to be destroyed.

with CB, Ruth and Dave G.

The lads arrived at about 4 o'clock. They're both in great shape. Tea of haddock flan, then down to the off licence for booze and on to the Hare. John, Maria, Lynn, Dave B, Sue, Pete, Chris R, Miss Dibb, Graham Airey, Andy, Linda, Carol Smith and boyfriend, little Jean, and later Mum and Dad, CB, Judith and Kathryn, &c. All back to Pine Tops. A real piss up. Don't remember much. Do recall wearing sunglasses and annoying people playing John's mouth organ. I almost set myself on fire trying to take a group photograph from the top of the fireplace in the lounge. Freaking out until 5am.

As far as I know only Martyn, Ruth, Judith and Kathryn, Dave G, Dave B, Glenn and I were the only ones remaining at dawn, and others, who have no grave but the sea, may well have been fighting it out until the bitter end. I found refuge in my bed. CB was unconscious on Lynn's bed and subsequently my sister was relegated to sleeping on the bedroom floor. I did the washing up and clearing around before passing out. Yes,I am made of the stuff that made England great. Christopher Columbus, Robert the Bruce, Hereward the Wake - all stout Englishmen who pioneered to achieve the greatest empire since F.W. Woolworth opened all them shops.

-=-

Sunday March 27, 1977

Passion Sunday. I like the sound of that.  Wake up to snow and hail. Do nothing whatsoever other than eat lunch and lounge around with a crumby Sunday newspaper. To be honest with you, I don't feel greatly informative today so don't expect anything astounding.

Did you know Mr Healey is presenting his Budget on Tuesday? Yes, and I bet he makes it a good one because of Labour's precarious position at the moment. Not discussing politics anyway.

Rang Dave G in Stockport at 7pm. He and Glenn are definitely coming on Saturday for my official birthday celebrations.

The Tenerife crash, 1977.

Work 5pm-12 midnight. Nothing spectacular here either. The world's worst ever aviation accident has taken place in the Canary Islands. 7,000,000 people dead, or something. Otherwise, nothing at all. Ursula never stops talking. I bet her jaws ache.

Crikey, it's Mrs Hilda Gadsby's 41st birthday tomorrow. She is of course the wife of Norman Anthony Gadsby, prospective Liberal councillor for the Borough of Pudsey.

Home by taxi in the snow at 12. Bed with P.G. Wodehouse. Goodnight.

-==-

Sunday January 16, 1977

Peter & Martyn playing pool at the Hollywood.

2nd after Epiphany. Fried eggs and the lot at Glenn's place. By midday however we're in Dave's comfortable lounge swilling ale. I'm on the Pils. After closing at 3pm we move into the pool room and continue drinking. 

This is followed by a guided tour of the pub and lunch in the private suite of the Glynn family. Dave and Glenn pay me the £15 each for the holiday deposit and then we hurtle back over the M62 to snow-ridden Yorkshire. At one point Peter was driving at over 100mph and the automobile creaked, rattled and shook. Had fish and chips from a Chinese restaurant in Bradford - greasy but substantial. Then to the Commercial for a small beverage. Home by 10.30. Relieved that the holiday is more or less sorted out.

Glenn & Martyn

Saturday January 15, 1977

Weekend in Stockport. It's so good to see Dave G and Glenn again, and to meet Mr & Mrs Glynn at the Hollywood Hotel._____. -==-

Hollywood Hotel, Edgeley.

Lily Glynn (far right) with Hollywood barmaids...

David Glynn, Esq

Martyn, Chris & Peter with holiday brochures.

We all seem to get on great and the only hint of animosity is shown by Peter, who doesn't think much of Glenn. To Manchester tonight and Kloisters Discotheque where a glass of Southern Comfort is only 22p. Naturally, I drink this all night. Martyn is half dead and only Glenn and I seem to be pissed. At the end of the evening we had a three mile walk after the late night bus from Manchester dropped us off somewhere in the wilds of Greater Manchester. I enjoyed the stroll, but Dave and I flagged down a taxi. One picked us up about a mile from Edgeley (where Dave lives), and it cost us 50p each! Thieving swine. Christopher and I stayed at Glenn's residence and are serenaded to sleep by an amusing American porn LP.







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