Monday April 9, 1979

_. It poured down from dawn till dusk. Whatever became of the long, warm Spring which was forecast in the delightful EP?

Carol J paid me £10 for doing the bathroom and asked me whether I would possibly do the wall behind the door in that same, auspicious room. I leapt at the chance. It will only take me ten minutes.

Delia phoned and was most revealing. She told me she had argued with Sarah late last week at the cruel way S had sent me to Coventry for giving her that "frightful cold". She told Sarah to pull herself together and start being nice to me once again. She can be a horrid, precocious child at times. I'd love to be given the opportunity to really sort her out. In a brutal, forceful Clint Eastwood sort of way.

The general election campaign is already in full swing. A month of codswallop and blatant lies from our beloved pin-striped PM is something I can do without. Jim Callaghan really should do the honourable thing and shoot himself. It would be far better to go now than to wait until May 3 and suffer the same fate as King Charles I, Mr Hoveyda, the former Jamaican premier and poor Zulfikar Ali Bhutto, who died by hanging last week simply because he was the leader of a defeated party. Margaret Hilda [Thatcher] seems to have the right idea. She says she is ignoring the campaign for a while because she doesn't want to bore the pants off Joe Electorate. Hoe right and clever of the sainted Margaret.

To bed at 1:12am.

-=-

Sunday April 8, 1979

_. Palm Sunday

Yes, Sarah was carried screaming from the party over David's shoulder at about 6am, leaving me alone with Jacq and the debris of half consumed drinks and piles of cig ends. We ate toast and drank tea due to a coffee shortage and huddled together on a large bean bag. ____________.

I crept in at home at about 9am and devoured boiled eggs and looked at the Sundays [papers]. The Countess of Snowdon is expecting a baby in the autumn. It's her first and she's 37 years old.

At 10 I went to Carol J's flat in Horsforth to hang wallpaper in her bathroom, and did so with great skill and patience until 6:30pm. I felt quite satisfied with the job afterwards. Carol was delighted, so much so that she drove me home [still in pouring rain]. Women and vehicles are a weird combination. Watched TV and ate until 10 and found myself unable to stay awake and staggered off to bed. Completely shagged out.

-=-

Friday March 16, 1979

_. More snow today. At 5pm I battled across Leeds to complete Bill North's major operation. Was all cleaned up in a couple of hours and we parted on speaking terms, and I had all on carrying the wads of cash down the stairs. I almost danced my way to Kirkstall because the weight of responsibility had been lifted from my shoulders like a cloud of low depression being wiped from the BBC weather chart.

Bill had kept his revolting highly effeminate hands to himself throughout the refurbishment and he had avoided propositioning me for sexual favours, or offering me cash to flash my y-fronts, or the contents thereof. What an incredibly boring existence he leads. He told me that he is very often in bed at 9:30pm after the 'Archers' and various other ghastly Radio 4 programmes. By the look of things his boyfriends must be few, or far between.

Home in a snow-drift and devour a rotten dinner with no enthusiasm whatsoever. Ice-skating is on the tv. How exciting, eh? Bed at midnight. Exhausted.

-=-

Thursday March 15, 1979

_. On to Bill North's again at 5. Painted for a couple of hours and had more success than yesterday. Home at 9:30 and leapt into a bath to prepare for the back-end of a Thursday night out with Peter and Chippy. Lynn and Dave were here for a 'Jim and Margaret' session. Julie N was laid up at home with 'flu. Lynn has had her hair flashed.

Peter and Chippy came at 10:30 and on we went to Oakwood Hall. Chippy seemed to be hideously pissed-up, but this can probably be put down to my lack of alcohol all evening. We had a few drinks, and I saw the lovely Sarah again but she took offence to Chippy, and was soon gone. It puzzles me how people either love or loathe Chippy. No middle ground. People can't be indifferent or mediocre about Gerald. The emotion he inspires in others is phenomenal. Christine goes white, and her teeth rattle in rage at the mention of his name, and several old ladies on holiday in Ibiza last summer will always treasure his name with particular regard. Gynaecological examinations included of course.

Bed at 1:30 or 2am.

-=-

Wednesday March 14, 1979

_. Dribbling, gushing paint continues to flow in glorious technicolour at Queenswood Heights. I should have it tied up by Friday, thank God.

Have I mentioned that the trip with Christine to Brands Hatch set for Saturday has been cancelled? CB phoned and said Mrs Braithwaite is ill and she doesn't want to leave her alone at the weekend. I can't say I am too depressed about this. The money would have drained away hideously and I am in no position to spend, spend, spend. It is surely a record now since Christine and I had a session. Three whole months have passed.

Jacq is going down to see Trixie at the weekend with Linda. It is Peter Sate's 22nd birthday on Friday. Jacq and I are meeting tomorrow at Jacomelli's restaurant - to collect a batch of photos I took in Oct/Nov. Mum seems to think that Jacq and I will get back together, but she obviously doesn't know her eldest son, does she?

-=-

Tuesday March 13, 1979

_.  John and Maria's wedding anniversary. Poor sods. ________________.

Took the day off work because of my illness and went to Bill North's. I wasn't happy with the paint work. The gloss paint just ran and trickled everywhere, and I seem to have lost control over my paint brush. Bill thinks I'm something of a martyr for painting his flat when I'm at death's door. Will this inspire him to give me an extra wad of notes on that joyous day when I roll up the dust sheets and abandon my painting tackle?

-=-

Wednesday March 7, 1979

_. Didn't get to bed until 4 this morning - so I don't feel like dancing to Victor Silvester.

Delia came over for me at 9am and we went over to Headingley and Bill North's flat. To our horror, he's lurking around in his dressing gown, or robe, sneezing and coughing as though at death's door. We expected the place to be deserted, but he announces that he has taken the week off and will be 'hanging around' whilst I am attempting to dollop paint all over the walls. Delia was very concerned at the prospect of my being closeted up with Bill for the day. We went through some amateur dramatics on the corridor near the lift, and when I took leave of her she disappeared through the floor wailing like a banshee.

I rubbed down the doors, painted the walls and finished for the day at about 6:30. Knackered I was in body and mind.

At home it wasn't long before I took to my bed.

-=-

Sunday March 4, 1979

1st Sunday in Lent.

_. Went with Sarah and Delia to see Bill North at Headingley. It was my first ascent of a block of high rise flats and I was pleasantly surprised.

Bill is something of a cross between Larry Grayson and Liberace, and very suspect. We drank gin and tonic. I agreed to paint his hallway, which has ten doors leading from it, but no overall price was settled upon. He gave me £10 to be going along with though. Delia kept bursting into howls of laughter and blaming it on me, and it was all so childlike and good fun.  I am eternally grateful to that small, valiant lady, with the bunch of gladioli and campaigning spirit, who has undoubtedly saved me from prostitution & degradation.

Hilda and Tony came here again. Wine was consumed on the usual vast scale and we discussed the so-called family tree. I am sure that Tony knows more on this subject than he lets on , and when I next go to Pudsey I must look at the Wilson family Bible. I gave him the dates of the burials of John & Rella Wilson who died in Dec 1920 and March 1926 respectively. Lynn and David came and saw Auntie H for the first time in three years.

Friday December 1, 1978

Still foggy and damp.

I phoned Michelle at the travel agents to enquire about apartments in Ibiza for next July or August. She said bookings are going well and many thousands are clamouring for foreign holidays after the disastrous summer at home. She will come back to me tomorrow or Monday. She has such a wonderful, sexy voice.

I did not go out on the razzle this evening. I met David B at 5:30 at Jacomelli's and we drove to Yeadon to collect Lynn at Morrison's. Back to Burley for din~dins and then Dave and I, clad in overalls, slapped gloss paint all over the downstairs living quarters. This was a historic event, because by midnight we had daubed our last splattering of paint on 7, Lawn Road, for some considerable time.

We had a few glasses of sherry to celebrate and watched a western on the microscopic TV and retired to bed at about 2. The house was icy cold, but Lynn had warmed my bed with a hot water bottle.

-=-

Monday August 14, 1978

To Otley Hospital with Dad at 9:30 where a nurse removed my stitches. The doctor, however, was far from satisfied, and he gave me a prescription and told me to return on Thursday. I left at 10 with my buttocks encased in a revolting anti-septic bandage which resembled a nappy. I felt like a two-year old.

Mum phoned at 12 to say that Uncle Jack (Myers) died at 1am today. Very sad. He has been suffering so much. ___________. Cousin Jackie visited Auntie Mabel this morning, who was asked by Auntie Eleanor to inform everyone else in the family.

Tonight I went to Lawn Road to scrape old pain from the staircase. A gruesome task indeed. We were joined by George Waite for half an hour or so. He has shaved off his beard and had his hair permed - like mine. Angus King, the YP medical correspondent, has been quizzing me about my hairstyle. I believe I have started a trend at the YP which will take on the proportions of the one caused by the skateboard craze.

Home at 10. After eating salad sandwiches I had a hot bath and re-dressed my gaping wound. It looks really revolting. We are all subdued about Uncle Jack. I do feel for poor Stephen (Myers) who is only 12 or 13 years old. To bed at 12:54am.

-=-

Saturday August 5, 1978

Sun rises 05:30 Sun sets 20:43

First Day of Ramadan {tabular}

A full day at Burley painting the bathroom. It now resembles a peppermint cream because it's chocolate and lime. Dad and Dave put up beams in the lounge and Henry Baker fixed the sink, &c.

Home at 6:30 and an hour later, clad in white trousers, Philippe Junot~styled sandals, I was waiting at the Station Hotel for Jacq. She arrived ~ a vision of loveliness ~at 7:45 and we messed around for half an hour waiting for a bus to take us to the Fox & Hounds. From the start of the evening we were 'dogged' by accidents of one kind or another. On the way to meet Jacq I was seriously 'pawed' by an Alsatian dog who muddied my trousers. On our arrival at the Fox Jacq went to the ladies (toilet) taking with her my camera and flash cubes in her handbag and when she emerged minutes later she was screaming with laughter and bearing in her hands a conglomeration of wet photographic equipment ~ Yes, it had all accidentally fallen down the bog! Luckily all seemed to be working after we had shaken off the water.

Jacq and I were drinking Stella Artois and we became quite merry. David L joined us and Sue, Dave B, Lynn, John, Maria, Sarah C, John Mac, Christine D and Graham A, &c. Susan had had some sort of fall out with Peter about coming to the Fox and he had gone off somewhere with Chippy. He eventually followed her to the party (David L's) but she had nothing to do with him for the rest of the night. Jacq and I went with Sarah and John and he insisted on having fish and chips first which set us back a bit.

My recollections of the night are dim and mixed. Janet Rootes (Roots?) arrived with Mick Orchard and his wife and we laughed a good deal about old times. She talked about June B but I cannot remember exactly what was discussed. Tony, Martyn and Chris R were there.

A nasty accident occurred. I sat on a glass. A sherry glass to be precise. It gave me a deep cut at the top of my buttocks, and I bled profusely for over an hour. My white trousers were ruined. People filed solemnly through the bedroom to inspect the damage, and it soon became clear that I'd require stitches. So, at 5am Dave B drove me to Otley Hospital where I was given three stitches. The nurses were in hysterics at the sight of my holed and bloody underpants. I looked like the victim of an attempted assassination. We arrived home after 7. Lynn and Jacq were waiting patiently.

-=-

Sunday July 30, 1978

10th after Trinity

After breakfast we all sped off to Lawn Road for a days work. Jacq was on her hands and knees scrubbing at the staircase. It poured with rain all day and only relented when we were ready to come home at about 7.

The four of us (Lynn, Dave, Jacq and me) crammed ourselves into the Spitfire and had a hilarious drive home over the moor. Lynn was clinging on for dear life.

Back at Pine Tops John, Maria and JPH were paying a visit. JPH is no longer a baby - he's a real little boy - with sturdy legs and flowing hair. He seems to have discovered a temper though. At one point when Maria wouldn't let him play with Susan's sunglasses he exclaimed: "Shit, then!" A deadly silence followed broken only by me giggling.

-=-

Wednesday June 21, 1978

Dad and I went to Lynn and Dave's at Burley this evening to help finish splashing undercoat on the bedroom. Audrey and Henry Baker came in. ___________. Mrs B makes it obvious she dislikes Lynn's choice of 'Tomato Surprise' emulsion on the bedroom ceiling. However, tittle tattle on the subject of my sister's décor isn't getting us anywhere, is it?

What became of the excitement and pulsating thrills that once filled these pages? The sex, the violence, the passion, the tears, and the laughter?

What possible entertainment can you derive from knowing that tonight, for instance, I came back from Burley and sat with a glass of lager discussing the shabby picture on the wall above the fireplace with Mummy? You must be mad to find that remotely interesting.

David G phoned. I couldn't say whether I'd be putting in an appearance on Saturday. This so-called air display (at Woodford) begins in the morning, and so it's going to have to be a crack of dawn trip, isn't it?

Leapt into the bath and de-painted myself before retiring to bed.

-=-

Saturday May 20, 1978

Sun rises 5:02 Sun sets 20:53

Out of bed at 11am to finish painting the lounge fireplace, yes the fireplace. It took most of the day and my sole companion on this adventure was Alan Freeman on Radio 1.

The highlight of the afternoon was when the legs of the television, with my help, gave way and capsized. Most people in the land were watching the England v. Scotland football match on their sets, but mine was upside down, covered in emulsion paint. It was an experience that neither the telly or I will forget lightly.

Met Jacq in Guiseley at 8 and had a drink in the Yorkshire Rose. She was clad in red and black which was attractive. From the above mentioned weird tavern we made our way to the Crown at Yeadon where we tarried until 11.

Philip Knowles and Co, plus Naomi, Rick Hartley and mob were merry-making, but no parties for afterwards seem to have been planned. I was horrified when Jacq mentioned seeing Naomi at Tony's party. I wasn't aware that Miss Downing had been to the party. Oh, I was so pissed. Phil Hewitt's sister who works behind the bar, is a nice girl.

At 11 we returned to Pine Tops. The two of discussed going abroad to seek our fortunes next year. Do you get the feeling that you've heard all this somewhere before? Yes, but now is the time, Michael!


-=-

Thursday May 18, 1978

Work day and night. Hacking up old newspapers all day and slapping paint on the lounge all night. Absolutely nothing else to report. Oh yes, I have.

Lynn was splattered all over the front page of the EP this evening and sales have probably rocketed because of it. She was sprawled all over the wing of a new £84,000 aircraft at Yorkshire Light Aircraft Co. I told her she should receive 'royalties' for her sales technique, and I don't say it as a light hearted quip either. How much money would Ursula Andress or Raquel Welch receive for advertising in such a way?

Jacq and I went to the library (again) at lunchtime. I have finally discarded Samuel Pepys. He was a decent sort, but to be honest I just haven't had the time to read his confounded diaries fully. After a month I've only covered six months of his daily natterings.

Wednesday May 17, 1978

Got home from work to find the lounge devastated in readiness for the redecoration. Dad was in the garden and Mum was moping in the dining room and didn't say more than a handful of words all evening. I sat putting photographs into a new album until 11pm and then retired to bed. Such a boring night. If things continue like this tomorrow I may have to resort to taking Bianca Jagger out for a drink or two.

'Royal Flash isn't a very good book at all. Just not my cup of tea ~ third rate and ridiculous.How can one be expected to take seriously a tale about Otto von Bismarck rolling about in bed with a French tart?

This pen is just about going to run out of ink by the time I finish writing this. It didn't ...


-=-

Monday October 4, 1976

Out of bed at 7.20 but work is the last thing I want to get roped into today. Decide to have a day off. Besides, the staircase needs rubbing down for the new paintwork. Have a leisurely bath after phoning the office to let them know.

Give Tony a ring at 11.15 to cancel tonight's engagements and he relates to me a sad tale indeed. His relationship with Mrs Johnson is no more. Evidently, she paid him a visit last night and he told her once again that he doesn't want a serious relationship with anyone at this period in time and the poor girl disappeared in a tearful rage in the early hours in the direction of Horsforth.

Dad and I go to Morrison's at 3 and purchase paint for the hallway, &c. Spend the evening decorating. Only manage to undercoat four or five doors but things are looking much better. Retire at midnight feeling knackered and completely shagged out.

I first met Lynne two years ago tomorrow, Oct 5, 1974. Historic occasion indeed. We shall celebrate on Saturday night.

-==-

Sunday September 26, 1976

15th after Trinity. Don't see the light of day until 12 o'clock. Have only a slight headache from Eileen's gin, but otherwise all is well.

Dad decorates his bedroom and I do absolutely nothing amidst the busy scurrying of Mum, Lynn and Susan, who are like ants. Lynne sits crocheting a pram cover or something for a couple of hours, until I persuade her to walk up to the village [Hawksworth] with me. Warm, brilliant sun. Energetic stroll and then home for orange juice and a session with the photo albums.

Lynne goes off at 6.30 - 7 o'clock. Will go to Yeadon Airport on Wednesday to see her off to Espana for a couple of weeks or so. A great and perfect woman she is.

-==-

Wednesday September 22, 1976

News: Unfortunate naval fellows drowned in HMS Littleton yesterday. Rabbit for tea. Superb too. John rings at 6.30 and we all panic, saying unto one another: "Is this it?". But he just says the car has broken down near the Co-op. Papa goes off to see what assistance he can give. _____.

Move back into my bedroom. It now resembles the Hall of Mirrors at Versailles. [You know, that was the place where Catherine the Great said: 'Let them eat cake.'] It is splendid though. I had difficulty sleeping though because of those horrid French tourists, herded together like sheep, filing through the place as though it's open to the public. What a liberty! What would Marie Antoinette have said if she'd still been living here? [Didn't she coin the phrase about not being able to have your cake and eat it?] All answers please on a stamped addressed envelope to the King George Fund for Sailors.

-==-

Monday September 20, 1976

Another day decorating my bedroom, and Lynn & Susan's. Sue joined Dad and I today and proved a great help. A great kid is our Sukey. By 5 o'clock I've put the finishing touches to to the window in my room and the final completed effect is impressive.

Dad seems determined to go ahead with his meeting with the chief constable on Wednesday and his resignation is imminent. Mum is getting upset about it too because Dad doesn't seem to know what to do if, or when, he does eventually resign. Discuss the pub business at tea time again. Oh God - talk about history repeating itself.

The YP was plodding along quite nicely and it always gives me the feeling that it wouldn't really miss me if I didn't turn up for work. Must have something to do with the enormity of the place. Nothing in the news. The Prime Minister is still alive and the Duke of Edinburgh hasn't been lost at sea or anything, and so I take my leave at 11pm.

Have fried liver & onions and then collapse on my camp bed with revolting indigestion. Liver just doesn't go down well with me at all. Just two words before I go - Neville Chamberlain.

-==-