Sunday November 20, 1977

Ernest Blackwell.

Last after Trinity. Out to the Commercial just after twelve. Sue, Pete, Chippy and me that is. Had three or four drinks and came back to Pine Tops where Susan attempted to make lunch. I went to Edith's to ask what flour is required to make Yorkshire pudding and remained there for one and a half hours with Ernest in his kitchen drinking his lager (from the barrel) and grape wine.

On returning home I found the mortal remains of my lunch over a pan of hot water and no sooner had I started to eat it when Mum and Dad appeared. Mum was in one of her foul moods and not at all nice to Sue. I think they expected a cooked lunch on the table and the sight of a chicken skeleton and three cold Brussels sprouts cannot have been a heart warming sight.

To make matters worse I invited Edith and Ernest to come round at 4:30 and they arrived on time with bottles of wine. Mum complained of feeling tired and was far from sociable. We drank until about 8 when I evacuated the lounge and let go of my pent up frustrations on Delia's pheasant. I, with the aid of David, removed it of it's feathers and innards and conveyed the pathetic bird back into the house. I do not suppose it will make a decent meal. In fact, it strongly resembled a Vietnamese refugee. Nevertheless, one shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth ... or gift pheasant in the beak.

Mum and Dad enjoyed Norfolk but are far too grumpy for my liking. Saw a film and retired to bed at 12. Still battling on with our mutual friend 'The Count of Monte Cristo'.

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Sunday November 6, 1977

22nd after Trinity. Felt ghastly this morning. John brought JPH round after breakfast. He's grown tremendously, crawls backwards over the floor and says 'hello', 'flowers', 'dog', and 'daddy'.

Mum and Dad don't appear aggravated about the numerous guests asleep all over the house, and after they'd gone all I got was a sigh from Mum and she said that perhaps I'd invited a few too many to stay under the one roof.

John G, Phil, Kath, Michelle and Steve left at 11am because Kath and Phil have a luncheon appointment with relations. A damned shame because I intended having a big 'do' at the Commercial. A short, quiet visit really, but they can't be idiots permanently like some nameless beings are.

Mum looked after JPH and John, Dave, Sue and Pete and I went down to the pub. Joined by Tony. Afterwards we went down to Ings Lane (or Avenue) to look at a house that Lynn and Dave fancy.

Mum with Lynn , Dave, and Edith.

Back home we have sangria with the Blackwells, then more wine, sangria, wine, sangria, wine, wine, &c. Edith looked ill, old and semi-senile. Quite suddenly the woman's gone down hill. I'm sure Ernest knows she's faded too. She just sat, not speaking, and so dull.  Not a bit like the Edith of old.

At 8.30 Dave, Sue, Pete and I went with Tony and Martyn to meet Chris and Pete M at North Rigton. From here we went to a pub at Pool in Wharfedale, where I was knackered, miserable and thoroughly boring.

Martyn was attempting to be 'bitchy' and sarcastic with me but failed miserably so I had to give him lessons. He was joking with Pete M about my moustache but I beat all the quips when I said I'd had it grafted 'off my arse'. Martyn went hysterical at this. If a job's worth doing it's worth doing properly. I can think of nothing more pathetic than a wise cracker who is neither wise nor particularly cracking. Back home by 11.

Pete M told me I could have Lynne back at any time I wished and that she still loves me. He also went on to say I was slipping in my old age and that the millions of my female followers, who have always been my trade mark, have now deserted me. For Christ's sake, who does he think he is? Peter Mather giving me, Michael Rhodes, advice on the female species! That is the laugh of the month, I think.

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Thursday November 3, 1977

Pay day. The State Opening of Parliament took place this morning. BBC TV technicians blacked out the coverage of the 'spectacle' because they too want more cash from HM Government. When I say 'spectacle' I say so in more ways than you imagine because the Queen wore her half-moon spectacles for the first time at the opening of the British Parliament. The fact that she is become a grandmother in two weeks time must have gone to her head, or perhaps I should say face. The specs do not flatter HM one bit. I do realise that the Queen doesn't want to be a trend setter or sex symbol. The sole aim was to the read the rubbish provided for her by the pathetic government with speed and accuracy.

At tea time we had fish and chips washed down with a bottle of hock. Papa was pissed from an afternoon session with Mum, Edith and Ernest. They had been up to the Cow & Calf to enquire about a wedding reception for Lynn & Dave. It sounds impressive.

Sat by the television this evening.

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Tuesday October 11, 1977

I wrote to the Times and the YP on the matter of Princess Anne's baby and it's title, or rather lack of it, when it comes into the world. I suggest doing what King Edward VII did in 1905 (see Diary, Saturday April 9, 1977). No doubt Mr Rees-Mogg and John Edwards will cast my mail sneeringly into the waste paper baskets of their respective offices. At least it cannot be said that I have neglected the plight of what can only be referred to, at this stage, as Master or Miss Phillips.

Edith & Ernest

Edith and Ernest came over at some frightfully early hour to 'sample' the wine. Lynn and Sue departed to bed quite early leaving Mum, Dad and I with them. I haven't laughed quite so much for at least 24 hours. Ernest told us, at great length, of how his great-uncle, Edwin Fletcher, founded the Provident Clothing Company. Edith cried with laughter throughout and it proved so infectious that we all followed suit. Do not ask what is so funny about Edwin Fletcher and the Provident Clothing Co, because I doubt whether I can enlighten you one bit. Ernest also told this tale to one of his arch-snobby neighbours further down the lane (whose husband is currently involved with the above mentioned company) and she retorted: "Oh, so your must be related to the Waddiloves". Ernest turned purple and demanded to know just where the Waddilove family come into the tale, but the neighbour changed the subject to the latest Princess Margaret story.

The two Es departed at 12 like Cinderellas (pissed ones) and Mum and I had a furious row which resembled 'Vimy Ridge' proportions. I adjourned, nay retreated, to my room with 'The Count of Monte Cristo'.

-=-

Monday September 26, 1977

Work was quite lazy. We made a birthday card for Michael Robertshaw, whose birthday it is today - his 21st. Eileen has been quite a misery since returning from honeymoon and today she smiled once or twice but is still quite off -hand with me. The reason for this I fail to understand but it must have something to do with Christine Byram's party. I have no intention of worrying about it anyway.

A Woody Allen film on the BBC tonight.'Play it Again, Sam'. Thoroughly hilarious. That actor is one of the funniest men alive I'm sure.

Mr Fishmonger's book.

Roddy Llewellyn.

Edith Blackwell has lent us a copy of 'Margaret: Princess without a cause' by Willie Fishsomethingorother. I fully intended purchasing it but after glancing over it I am so glad I haven't wasted the £5.50. It is just like the Helen Cathcart biography with a bit of extra spice gathered from the cheap Sunday newspapers and gossip from the European and American journals. Coincidentally the papers today have stories about Margaret in them. According to one, Roderic Victor Llewellyn (born October 9, 1947, son of Sir Harry Llewellyn, KB, and grandson of Sir David Llewellyn, 1st Baronet) is being groomed as a courtier with the intention of marrying him to Princess Margaret after her divorce next year. From his pedigree it's easy to see he is not the sort of low 'drop out' he's been made out to be. He is at least in Burke's  Peerage. Grandson on the paternal side of a baronet and on the maternal side of the 5th Baron de Saumarez. The young man no longer wears an ear ring and the t-shirt embossed with 'Roddy for PM' on the front has been replaced by pin striped suits and sober ties. It certainly seems he is being prepared for the trappings of royalty.

I retired to bed with Willie Fishmonger's boring, bitty book. I could do a better job and certainly get more of the facts right. Mr Fish 'n Chips in merely a profiteer, a sensationalist, a scoundrel. In fact I'm in two minds whether or not to go on reading it. 'Decline and Fall' by Mr Waugh is far more entertaining and certainly more of a bedtime book. Who knows what nightmares I'd be subjected to if I were to drift off to sleep after reading of the sexual exploits of Princess Margaret, which I am sure are based on nothing more than the idle chatter of ignorant people.

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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.

-=-

Sunday August 21, 1977

11th after Trinity. Woke at 11 feeling quite dead. Mr Brotherwood Senior, grinning broadly, deposited a cup of tea by my bed and made a quick exit from the room. Tony was outside beating his sheepskin car rugs with a large wire brush. He laughed on seeing me and joked about the pinkness of my eyes and deathly hue of my palid cheeks. We then attacked slices of hot buttered toast with Mrs B's constant chatter as a back drop.

Groucho.

See in the Sunday Times that the genius Groucho Marx is dead. Let us hope that, as in the case of the late, lamented Mr Presley, the BBC will now show all the Marx Brothers films because 'Duck Soup', 'A Day at the Races' and 'A Night at the Opera' are masterpieces of comedy. The Elvis films are starting on the BBC next Wednesday.

We went back to the White Horse taking Mrs Brotherwood with us. Tony and I drank tomato juice. Mrs B was on the sherry.

Sunday lunch was at 2 followed by a slight kip and then we hit the road for the north at 4pm. Home via Goodwood and picturesque Sussex and various other bits of that area of which I know nothing. We ate our packed picnic of cheese and spring onion sandwiches in the car, and I had mine as we passed Kew Gardens at about 6.30.  We were at Bradford and in the Bod at 9.30. At times Tony  had been doing over 100mph on the M1. Wendy and Anne were in the Bod and we planned to go to Annabella's with them on Wednesday and to the WH Smith party, I think. I'm surprised we weren't thrown out for all the attention we were drawing to ourselves. Three pints of Guinness, no money an one hour later I returned home to find everyone at Edith and Ernest's and in a state of intoxication. Even Lynn and David back from Italy - not as brown as they should be.

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Thursday July 7, 1977

Got three weeks pay! Oh for the sands of Ibiza!

Out with Carole to the Regent and then the Station Hotel and the Ings (Yuk) and then the Drop. Carole was nice. Discussed very little. She may be going on holiday with Fogarty.

Back at Pine Tops. Mum and Dad entertain Ernest and Edith to home-brew. Much pissed.

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Wednesday June 29, 1977

Work was ghastly and I made my exit at 3.30pm.  Tony rang later and said he was cheesed off with Barry and I told him to venture to Pine Tops. He arrived looking pale with a revolting tooth ache and within minutes we are on the open road heading in the direction of a tavern.

Tony.

Alcohol is supposedly good for tooth ache. It's also a marvellous cure for back ache, heart ache, and cancer. If nothing else it helps you to die laughing.

The first port of call was the Queen's on Apperley Lane. I am reminded of the late Judith Beevers (see May-Jul 1974) but otherwise it's dead, flat and miserable. The brandy here didn't do much for Tony's throbbing tooth and so we went to the dreaded Drop in Guiseley, where the brandy was equally ineffective.

Tony agrees to take Martyn and I to Stockport on July 9 and says he'll probably bring Linda along too. Will she fit in at the Hollywood? __________. Last call was the Fox & Hounds, Menston.

Home to find Mama and Papa entertaining Edith & Ernest, who have brought a supply of wine with them. I did a spot of tasting myself. A good time was had by all. Night Night.

-=-

Saturday June 4, 1977

Tony and Martyn come this morning to help me put up the Jubilee bunting for the party. A large poster of the Queen in full regalia in the ballroom at Buckingham Palace goes up in a prominent position in the lounge along with Jubilee balloons and a Norman Parkinson portrait too. Very patriotic indeed.

The lads went to Bradford but I stayed at home waiting for Dave and Glen to join us. They arrived at 3.30 and after lunch I took them to Otley where we find an of-licence shop for wine and ale. The three of us spent about £3 each.  We get on famously and Dave is anxious to know when I'm going to Stockport again. The night at the Poco Club was a fabulous evening and it's a shame we don't all meet up more frequently.

Edith & Ernest

Tony, Martyn, Dave, Glen and I went to the Commercial together. Mum, Dad, John, Maria, Sue, Peter, Lynn, Dave B, Dave L, MM, Marita, Sarah, Peter B, Chris, Peter N are in the pub. Not many, and no 'spare' ladies at all. Chris and Pete _________.They're shocked when I say I won't be going to Denise's 21st. I'll be in Stockport on July 9. They took this news very badly. Peter Baker and Sarah had some sort of disagreement in the pub and he took her off home after half an hour or so much to my astonishment. I rang her at 11.30 but she hadn't arrived home and so I presume they must have 'made up' and gone elsewhere.

The throng was joined at home by Edith and Ernest and Mike and Maureen Eccles (the new neighbours). Not many at all really and Lynn says it's the quietest party of all time. I wasn't too pissed and yet I cannot recall much to report. Parties tend to blend together and a six hour spree can be condensed into the space of a few minutes. Glen and I were the last men standing and we were in the dining room listening to Cinzano and drinking the Santana LP 'Abraxas' ...or was it the other way round? I had a couple of cigarettes. That's the minute of my miserable life. It was agonizing watching the dawn break over Tranmere Park and the dreadful racket made by the birds. Oh, my head!

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Sunday April 24, 1977

2nd after Easter. Arose at 12. Edith Blackwell had just been in and Mama had entertained her to breakfast of eggs and bacon of all things. A peculiar thing to do I must say. Mind you, Edith is a peculiar old thing. (Yes, you've guessed correctly - "thing" is the word of the day).

I came down and had a cooked thing and went back up to my thingy and filled in the thing with that thingummy. Thing, Thing and Thing are covered in grease underneath John's thing on the drive. Those bleeding things never work right. I for one wouldn't have the patience to mess around with them. Not rellishing the idea of going into the thing this afternoon. No doubt thing will have left me a note informing me of a proposed catastrophic change in my social life. No Bloody chance, Kathleen!

The Hon Chris Monckton

Sue and I walked round to Ridgeway and took JPH for a ride, walk, push, call it what you will, in his pram. Jimmy was marking essays and breaking wind. He blamed the beer he'd had of late. Maria bundled baby up and Sue and I walked him in the sun up Thorpe Lane and to Pine Tops where he was pandered to and played with by his doting grandmama until his benevolent Uncle Mike returned him home at 4.

To work after dinner. Ursula confirms that Kathleen's plans for Friday nights are as sinister as I thought they were.

Chris Monckton invited me to his Silver Jubilee party at Wetherby Town Hall on June 18. I must go to that one. He has a sister you know and I'm sure a 'Hon' in the family would prove quite refreshing. The Hon Miss Monckton is about my age too.

Home by taxi at 11. The taxi driver talks of the death of the Leeds Rugby League player Sanderson who died on the pitch this afternoon during a skirmish with Salford players.

To my bedroom at 11.30 with Queen Victoria's correspondence with the Empress Frederick and vice versa, 1865-1871.

-=-

Friday December 31, 1976

New Year's Eve. Need I say more? OK, probably. But don't expect all that much. The day was one of further recuperation as you might say. Entertained Uncle H and prepared for a party. Went with Dad to collect John, Maria and JPH at 6 o'clock. Uncle H is fascinated by the baby. Didn't go down to the pub until 10 o'clock because Peter N was too absorbed in the film epic 'Zulu' which I've seen about sixteen times. But sure enough the pub held everyone standing in readiness for the midnight hour.

With John, New Year's Eve 1976

The party [at Pine Tops] commenced at 11.45pm on Dec 31, 1976 and fizzled out at approximately 10am on the morning of January 1, 1977. Nice seeing MM and Marita. Dave L was his usual cheery self. Uncle H gave Jimmy Macdonald and I a wonderful description of Great Uncle Walter [Henty's] death on a ship in the Indian Ocean in the mid-1930s. We also had a lengthy discussion on reincarnation. By 6am only Jimmy, John, Maria and I remained standing. Jimmy and I sat until 10, talking. BBC2 runs the entire footage of the Coronation, June 2, 1953 [we're now in Silver Jubilee year]. For more details see the 1977 diary. Goodnight, or perhaps Good morning, all.

Ernest Blackwell, John, Edith and Maria

Saturday September 25, 1976

John's 20th birthday. The first time that one of 'us four' have been away from home for a birthday. A wet, disgusting day. To make matter's worse Lynne's car on Edith's drive, doesn't start and it takes Dad and David 30 minutes, in pouring rain, to get the bloody thing going again. Lynn comes with Lynne and I to Leeds. The less said about shopping in monsoon-hit Leeds the better. Get John a bottle of 'Aramis' for his birthday and buy 'Givenchy Gentleman' after-shave for my own personal use. Lynne buys a white polo-necked sweater and Lynn got David a couple of presents because they've been going out for exactly 2 years next Tuesday.

Mention the drought to me mate and I'll crush your balls in a metal vice. Harsh I know but you can't expect to antagonise me and get away with it Scot free. [Or is it Scott free? And from where does this saying originate?]

[Large gap at foot of page where I was supposed to record my visit to Eileen Byram's party in Dewsbury. It is sadly lost to history.]


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Sunday August 1, 1976

7th after Trinity. Arise at quite a decent hour and make my way to the bathroom. The stench of vomit outside Karl's bedroom is revolting, but after further investigations I see he is the only casualty.

Peter says CB and Roger appear to have had a good time in the lounge and Chris tells that they (CB & Roger) look to have been 'up to things'______________________.

Denise and I take a vaccuum cleaner each and start on the downstairs rooms. Even Roger had a duster in his hand. Lynne was most uncommunicative and surly much to the amusement of CB who kept grinning at me across the lounge. By 11.30 we've done all we can and Chris takes Romeo & Juliet home (that's Christine & Roger by the way).

Denise, Peter, Lynne and I sit in the dining room chatting until Mr & Mrs Mather get in at 12. I can see Mr M casting his gaze around the premises looking for cases of vandalism. I shudder when I see him mounting the stairs because I know just what a dreadful smell will assail his nostrils when he reaches the top.

At12.30 - Lynne who is all packed ready for her holiday - brings me home.We kiss and part until Saturday night. Have lunch with Mum, Dad, Sue & Peter and then spend a couple of hours with the Blackwells. We talk about Vic Feather, the Duchess of Windsor, the Queen and Queen Mother and other sundries. Edith had some unsavory comments to make about the old duchess and she says that the Queen Mother 'fancies herself'.

Back home I watch TV all night with Mum & Dad. A good programme about the history of the BBC with bits of programmes all bunged together. After Dad goes to work Mum and I watched a sad, morbid film with Elizabeth Taylor and Montgomery Clift. Don't get me wrong, Elizabeth and Montgomery didn't watch the film with us - they were in it.

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Monday July 12, 1976

Bank Holiday in Ireland. Back to work which is like a nightmare after two weeks of luxurious living.

Home at 5.15. The house is horribly quiet without Lynn and Susan. Sit watching the TV with Mum & Dad who say that last week was the first time in 22 years that they've been alone in the house. The silence is broken by Tony who comes in at 8 o'clock with a book for Edith Blackwell. He is acting weird and I think he's pissed until I remember _________________. I have a burst of hysterics when he says he's bought a kite and is going up into the hills tomorrow to fly it. What is the world coming to? I think the lad's gone off his rocker. However, I'd never hold that against him.

Pete & Chris come at 8.30 and Lynne rings to say she's coming at 9 o'clock. Thje lads go when she arrives and we sit for a couple of hours with Mum & Dad drinking Bacardi & coke. Mum seems to have taken a shine to Lynne. They haven't really met before.

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Sunday February 1, 1976

4th Sunday after Epiphany. Don't wake up until afternoon. Mum, Carole, Lynn, Susan and Maria are downstairs preparing something to eat and seem to be getting on poor David's nerves.

John is like a corpse in his bed. He was actually violently sick in my new shoes, both there in the room swimming in veg.

The party was a great success though and John and Maria received a nice start to their future life together.

Edith Blackwell called round to see how we fared last night and she recounts, over sausage rolls and cold chicken legs, how Ernest lost his false teeth in the festivities.

At 2.30 Carole and I went for a long trek over Hawksworth Moor and almost froze to death in the process. My fingers were ice cold even in gloves and I've never known a day to be so cold and miserable. We got back at 4.30 before it began to grow dark.

I cannot understand why I wanted to finish with Carole on Friday night because we normally get on so well together, and today was no exception. I seem to be able to change my mind about something in the space of a matter of minutes.

We all watched television, and I fell asleep in the chair which is unusual for me.

John and Maria went down to Silverdale to look at a semi-detached house and came back with favourale reports. They'll get off to a nice start if they can begin with a new house.

We all looked through old photographs. Carole and I walked to Harry Ramsden's at 9.30 and I saw her on a bus homeward. I return home via Thorpe Lane and just about freeze to death for the second time today.

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Wednesday January 1, 1975

Michael Rhodes, 19 years, 8 months and 26 days. Here I am again, everyone. No doubt you're all sick of me, but you'll have a long wait if you think I'm going to pack it in just for your sakes.

The party was a tremendous success. At about 8.30pm last night John, Christine B, Chris and self went to the Hare where we were joined by the mob. Lynn and David, and even Martyn and Alison attended. In keeping with tradition we all went to the Commercial to see the New Year safely in. Mum and Dad are entertaining Ernest* & Edith Blackwell** in the crowded ale house at Esholt, and we draw the conclusion that far more people are out spending money on ale than at the same time last year.

Back to Pine Tops at 12.15 after hearing from Denny that Adrian is 'too poorly' to come. This is the first New Year in three years that Miss Akroyd hasn't attended. Uncle Harry came at about 2am and was stoned as usual. He says he now wants to join the Ulster police. Uncle H in Northern Ireland! That's all they need!

I stood on CB's toe whilst dancing and she lost the nail. Blood pouring everywhere. Not a pretty sight I might add. I felt unusually knackered all night, and Dave Lawson kept saying I looked 'lethargic', which seemed to give him a good deal of pleasure. A spot of bother came when Carol and Christine W attempted both to bed down in my precious sleeping place. David B (yes, I've reverted to the old style) had to step in and take them home at 6am. I went to bed shortly after.

Up at 1pm and sit in front of the TV for eleven hours. Had a good, peaceful time though. Lynn and Dave are going to Scarborough tomorrow. Lucky Devils!


*Ernest Blackwell (born May 16, 1907)
** Edith Hannah Blackwell (born Sept 11, 1909)

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Tuesday January 1, 1974

The radio behind the bar of the Commercial at Esholt announces the arrival of 1974. We all kiss and link arms in the singing of 'auld langs ayne'. Denny, as usual, is emotional at the passing of the old year. By 12.15 Uncle Jack complains he is on the verge of starving to death so we all leave, in dense fog, for Pine Tops.

The party is a tremendous success. Andy, Chris, Linda, Christine W, Peter Mather arrive, followed by MM and Marita. A couple of police officers arrive (as guests) and the party is underway. Uncle Harry is drunk, along with Auntie Hilda. Poor Uncle Tony sleeps in the lounge. The Blackwells came in for an hour or two. Truly a fantastic evening. Chris, in keeping with his previous New Year record, was in a terrible mood. He'll be in trouble next week for not going to Laura's party. Everyone agrees that Mum and Dad are tremendous parents.

Very few people go home, and by 7am most people have fallen asleep in all sorts of places. Cousin Jackie, Neil, Al and Martyn and I awake at about 10 in the lounge. Mr Graham collects Andy, Christine and Linda.

Spend the rest of the day relaxing in front of the tv. My throat is burning and dry, but it isn't down to drink. I consumed very little last night. Poor Auntie Hilda was blind drunk, after knocking back the contents of a whole bottle of Bacardi. She kept calling me: 'My favourite nephew.'

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Saturday December 22, 1973

Dad wakes me at 6.25am and I wash, dress and go downstairs where I blow up several balloons in the lounge. Mrs Blackwell bangs on the door at 7 with a story about the taxi driver being late. They are going to Torquay for Christmas to see their son and four grandsons.

The weather is shocking, fog and rain both at the same time. At 8.0 I get the 55 bus arriving in Leeds at 9.0. Spend three hours and £6 buying presents in near torrential conditions. See Sue Bottomley in 'Scene and Heard', who says June didn't enjoy the party at Benton Park on Wednesday. I tell her that I didn't enjoy it either, and she gave a wistful smile.

On arrival home I try ringing Jackie in order to get to the bottom of these latest 'June rumours'. Whilst talking to Uncle Jack the line goes dead and at 5.30 I had heard nothing further from Pudsey. Even Mum is hopeful that June and I will get back together. The prospect literally makes me feel like going hysterical with joy. Who knows what might happen?

John, Christine W, David, Marita, MM and Linda go to York until 4am. I await further instruction from higher places. I went to the Emmotts and sat with Ivy until 8.30 when Chris, Andy, Peter Mather and gang joined me. At 11 we went to a party near the Golf Club - gate crashed it. Remained until 1.30. Peter brought me home.

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