Saturday August 26, 1978

Sun rises 06:03 Sun sets 20:01

Up at 10. Sarah made me scrambled eggs on toast. I felt slightly worse for wear. Sarah and Delia fussed over me. They went to the Ilkley Antiques Fair at 11 and dropped me at home. A quick change of clothes and I went back to Leeds to meet Jacq and Trixie at the Dragonara. First I went to the Y.W.C.A to pay my respects to Hayden, who begged me to find him a surgeon who might perform a head transplant on him.

Went with Jacq and Trixie to Whitelocks. We sat from 12:30 until 3 in the pleasant atmosphere of one of Leeds's finest and most ancient taverns. Afterwards we went to Trixie's room at the hotel for even more drink, and finally, at about 5:30 we left for Guiseley.

John and Maria had been round in the afternoon but we just missed seeing them. After dinner with the family we took Lynn & Dave to the Drop where we celebrated the coming wedding, minus 2 weeks. Pernod dribbled everywhere. Lynn was quite overcome by it all and had to go sit outside.

Back to Pine Tops afterwards.

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Friday August 25, 1978

Trixie came to stay at the Dragonara for the duration of the Bank holiday. This evening Jacq and I went to meet her at the hotel and we took her to Len's Bar where Sue Tirbutt was having a party. Trixie was in fighting form and looked fit and well while knocking back the usual pints of bitter. I introduced her to (Alan) Macgregor, who served in the Royal Navy with Derek Sate. Hayden came with Jacq. _________________. Jacq, Trixie, Hayden, Sarah, Carol J and I went to the Nouveau club at 11pm from Len's and stayed until about 2:30.

Trixie left for the Dragonara at about 1am but we stuck it out until the bitter end. Sarah was horribly pissed. At the end of the evening Jacq disappeared into the darkness with Hayden and Carol drove Sarah and I to West End Lane, Horsforth. We staggered and fell around in her kitchen and I made some ridiculous adjustments to her father's shopping list on the table. At about 3 I retired to the pink suite at Ivory Towers.


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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.

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Friday December 10, 1976

Alison [Dixon] and John [Pinder] came up from the depths of Winchester last night to stay for a couple of days. Don't see Lynne today and she goes home taking Jean with her. Peter M rings to say he's on his tod [sloan] this evening because Chris has gone off with a mucky woman to Askham Bryan. I must be the last resort. He comes at 8.15 and we go to the Hare with Sue, Pete N, Lynn and Dave [the latter pair move on to a function at the Dragonara in Leeds]. Martyn and his popsy [Carla] are in, and Mum & Dad. Peter M and I return at 10.45 to watch a programme on the Abdication Crisis narrated by James Cameron. Very good indeed and it would have been much better if Peter hadn't insisted on fidgeting and complaining throughout about the time and how late we'd be at Oakwood Hall. Mum, Dad, Sue, Pete, John and Alison come back at 11.15 and when the programme finishes Peter drives us to Oakwood Hall. I feel bloody miserable all night. At 2am Peter M throws me the keys to the van and we go sit outside while he walks his new found 'lady friend' back to Bingley College. TWO HOURS LATER HE RETURNS buttoning his shirt and combing his hair with a vague story about listening to Perry Como records. I realise that fans of this ageing American baritone are probably grossly perverted, but never did I imagine that the ritual of listening to his dulcet tones involved stripping off ones clothes and sitting in the nude. Home by 4.30am and Mum makes us all dance and sing until dawn. Dad was flaked out in bed - pissed I fear.

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