Sunday August 27, 1978

14th after Trinity

Jacq and Trixie came to Guiseley this afternoon and we all got horribly pissed in the garden. At one point I was incontinent. Trixie told some very filthy anecdotes and sloshed wine all over her Christian Dior gown and half of Hawksworth Lane for that matter.

By 6pm Dad was unconscious, spread~eagled upon his bed and Jacq was flat out on my bed. I've never seen her in such a state. They left after the full works of a 'Royal Albert' dinner at about 1am.

Dear me, it really was lovely if disgraceful. When Dad pulled round in the evening he left for Lawn Road with Lynn and Dave just to avoid us. ________________________________________.


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Thursday September 8, 1977

Miserable bloody weather. I had a rare half day and managed to escape at 12. At lunchtime I went with Sue, Peter and Uncle H to the Commercial where we had roast beef and dripping sandwiches and a few pints. Mum and Dad came in at 2. Annie (Lindley) sat on my knee and we laughed our heads off.

Annie Lindley.

Uncle H, being alcoholic, is pissed as a frog after three pints, and to make matters worse he bought a bottle of whisky from the bar to take back for a further session.

Later we were joined by Edith and Ernest and knocked back ginger beer, wine, whisky, lager and beer. By 7 o'clock we were all canned and some of the party were complaining of hunger. Within minutes we were at the Hare (where Judith was playing at barmaids) on our way to the Flying Pizzatoo at Burley-in-Wharfedale. The restaurant was jam packed and we seemed to be waiting hours for our food.

Harry's changed a good deal since April. He's older and not half the fun he once was.

We all went back to Edith and Ernest's at about 11 for glasses of his cloudy pink champagne, but the end of the night was ruined by Uncle Harry's behaviour. At 12.30 he stormed out, packed his pathetic belongings and was away down the lane with his dog, Tan, telling me to 'piss off' and that he will never come back to Yorkshire. Isn't it a terrible thing? Mum came home with a raging headache.

Dom(inic) Melville arrived at some late hour to say he had seen Harry walking towards Rawdon and wanted to know if there was anything he could do.

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Sunday September 23, 1973

I told John this morning that I would NOT be going out tonight. "I must cut my drinking habit to a minimum" I said. He laughed because he knew I would be sitting in one pub or another before the hour had gone 9pm. How right he was! Oh yes indeed.

How I do loathe Sundays - the feeling of impending doom (Monday morning) always hangs over ones head.

In the afternoon Mum, Dad, Lynn and Sue go to Pudsey to see Auntie Hilda and Co.

John and I have baths and listen to 'Solid Gold 60' on Radio 1. My, doesn't time fly? Hard to believe that John Philip Rhodes is 17 on Tuesday. Will he receive a card from Christine W? I ask this because they always seem very cool with each other - not like June and I were. Miss White was born on a very historic occasion - the 25th birthday of Princess Margaret. On that day HRH was eligible to marry above the reach of the Royal Marriages Act 1772. The poor dear decided not to. I hope she doesn't regret it now.

Dave collects us at 8.30 and we go to the Queen's, where I am terribly bored. I miss June tremendously - I don't know why. Can she be worth it?

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To be coninued