Tuesday September 9, 1975

Up at 7.30 as usual but I find I cannot walk about on my right foot, which doesn't look bruised at all though it is quite painful. Dress, the have breakfast undecided about whether to go into work or not. Mum says it's hardly worth it, and I might as well rest my foot for the day. I give Eileen a ring and tell her the tale of how I fell whilst pushing the car. She promises to pass this message on to Her Majesty The Boss.

Mum and John go off to work, and I do absolutely nothing all morning. Dad is playing about with John's car on the drive, but it's much too wet to do anything outside. The weather has definately changed these past few days, and believe it or not I'm quite looking forward to the long, dark, winter nights, with people singing Christmas carols, and all the ladies looking sexy in shiny Wellington boots. Yeah man, that's definately my scene.

Dad goes off to work at 2pm after we had lunch together, leaving me quite alone in the house. Time sure does drag by. After playing records for an hour, I took a long bath which soothed my foot a little.

A chap rang from Tetley's to say Mum and Dad could have an interview for the New Inn on September 11. I hope now that they'll get the place because it would be so handy. Everyone who's been recently seems to think it's a decent place and even if it's not, a pub is what you make it. Our family, with all its contacts, should attract much new trade. My friends alone could keep us going quite nicely.

Carole's Mum rings me at 7.30 to say Carole is unwell.(We were supposed to be going out tonight). Evidently she's sick once again and I'm horrified to hear that she almost died 2 or 3 years ago. Her kidneys and liver were not functioning correctly. For God's sake, I hope the illness isn't repeating itself. I told Mrs P I'd go see Carole tomorrow evening. I like her very much and now know where Carole gets her madness from.

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Wednesday July 16, 1975

John rocketed into the upper classes at 6.30 this evening when he became the proud owner of a 1970 J registered Triumph Spitfire - a white convertable one. I'm not jealous really because it's not a thing which comes easily to me. (This is supposed to be funny).

At 11.30 this morning Eileen answered the phone and spoke to Fanny Cradock, the deep-voiced lady who cooks on the telly. She asked if she could come in and look at a 1914 file of Yorkshire Posts. Obviously, Eileen said yes, and ten minutes later Fanny was in the library shaking my hand and thanking me for finding the 1914 file for her. She was quite nice really, and not a bit like the bitch you think she is on TV.

John took me to the Hare in the Spitfire at 8, and Caroline, Maria's pal, more or less picked me up. I told her a lie and said I was going out with someone from work, at which she made the classic reply: 'I don't care. It's you I want. I don't mind sharing.' How could I refuse her after that? I find her sexy and sensual, &c, but she's a bitch and she'd like to think I will be crawling after her professing my love.However, I'm determined not to be captivated this time. I said I'd meet her tomorrow, and I'll regret it no doubt.

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Monday July 14, 1975

Why do the wrong women always fall for me? This so-called Carole says she's passionately in love with me and is prepared to undergo any hardship which might entail going out with me. My current infatuation is for Sarah and until my feelings change I cannot see me touching anyone else.

It was awful at work because Eileen got onto the subject of 'how horrible it would be to go out with someone who worked at the same place' &c, and my heart was pounding, and I kept trying not to look at Sarah, who was doing the same trying to keep her eyes from me. What would it be like though if I did take her out? The office would come to a standstill I do suppose, and they'd try to make it hell for us. Carol Johnson for one would never give her assent to our relationship because she is horribly envious of Sarah and thinks I am far too unworthy. Nothing short of the Aga Khan for Sarah would satisfy Carol J. However, I can forsee her coming down to earth with a bang shortly. Sarah is for me, and on the 26th I'm going to do my damned best to get her once and for all.

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Thursday July 3, 1975

Another gorgeous day. We haven't had a drop of rain now for about five weeks, and it's absolutely fantastic.

Sarah Elizabeth Collis and I go to Whitelocks again, where we meet David B. Those two get on with one another like a house on fire, and David amuses Sarah really phenomenally. The two of us stagger back to work in the blazing heat and we don't tell Carol or Eileen that we've been out together. They believe what we say, though we do slip up occasionally, but quite unnoticed. A real darling, Sarah is. We're doing Town Street tomorrow night, so don't blame me if the writing on Friday's page is illegible.

See TV all evening, including 'Top of the Pops' which is full of rubbish.

I'm not writing any more now, so you can just get lost, the lot of you.

-==-

Friday June 27, 1975

Feel grotty and ill for the best part of the day. Like a bloody fool, I took two more tablets with my breakfast, and they didn't agree with me at all. However, having upset Mum already, I didn't want to worry her even more, so I left for work without mentioning to her just how ill I felt.

Sarah was beautiful today. She always makes a fuss of me, and was an absolute angel about me feeling bad.

Eileen was back from Spain, all white and pickled with alcohol - and so I delegated a lot of my powers to her.

Home at 6 feeling a lot better. A bath and a brush up brings me round, and I prepare to set out for Horsforth to meet Sarah and Mrs Johnson. We attempt to do the whole of Town Street, starting at the Old Ball. But we end up four pubs further on at the Brown Cow at 10.30. Still, it gives us the excuse to do it all again next weekend.

After leaving Carol at 10.30 I walk Sarah home to West End Lane. It's lovely to get my arms around her, and I'm sure she feels a little something for me too. I met 'Auntie' Delia for the first time. Not at all what I expected, but somehow Sarah is a bit like her in character. Her Dad just walked into the room and belched, but he's endearing in a funny sort of way. I kept saying I'd walk home, but 'Auntie' protested and offered me a lift in the car. Sarah and her Mum brought me home, and I hadn't so much as laid a lip on her all night. I'll have luck one day though, you mark my words.

-=-

Tuesday April 29, 1975

Feeling grotty and fear that a cold is creeping upon me. All day my throat's been sore, and a funny cracking sound affects my ears everytime I swallow. My sinuses aren't too good either. Detest feeling like this and hope and pray that a sudden recovery will soon be achieved.

Discover at the YP that I'm down for working on Friday night. Not that it matters and I do suppose it's a blessing in disguise really. What with the holiday pay-up date looming on the horizon, and the prospect of another months Barclaycard I'll need every single penny I can lay my hands on.

This afternoon I suddenly remembered that Jon Lesser (David's room-mate at Worcester)wanted some photostats of the Selby Coalfield development, and so I flew round the office with panic burning in my eyes in the attempt to find his address. Eventually I succeeded and delegated the job of doing the photostats to Eileen. Jon is a good bloke really. David never ceases to torment him, but he only does it in fun of course. It strikes me that David always needs a 'Jon Lesser' wherever he is. When in Guiseley his 'Jon Lesser' is John Rhodes, and he does anything to plague and chaff him. Also, the fact that Jon is _______is also a never ending source of amusement for David, who collects millions of ___jokes when he is on holiday, just so that he can lay in bed at night, when back in Worcester, and hurl them at his tortured room-mate. However, David Lawson will always be my dearest friend and until the end of my days his sense of humour and unparalleled wit will be of endless joy to me.

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Monday April 7, 1975

Back to the old routine. Up at about 7.30 and sit with Lynn over a cup of tea. Mummy didn't wish to emerge for the morning ritual of pretending to enjoy ones cornflakes and shrivelled bit of toast.

With Jim Rawnsley to Leeds. Eileen arrives at 8.30 with an engagement ring firmly secured to her finger. She gives me a cock and bull story about not really being engaged until July, but I fail to grasp the point. After all, what is the reasoning behind getting engaged to get engaged? Bloody nonsense it all is.

Go into town at lunchtime and get a card for Helen's celebratory event tomorrow. Twenty-one the poor soul is. She was so bloody pissed on Saturday I doubt very much whether she'll be recovered as yet.

Praise be to God!! Chris had official confirmation of our holiday on Saturday! It is quite sealed after all. I harboured doubts in the back of my mind that something would go wrong along the way, but feel quite satisfied now.

Haven't heard from Christine since the traumatic experience she undoubtedly went through on Saturday night. I wonder what reaction she'll give me? Her excuse the other night was that she was too drunk and too shocked to take any of it in.

Ring Marita and say I'm sending her a massive memoranda about all the references I've ever made about her in my diary since 1973. She's on the verge of hysteria at the end of the conversation. What a girl she is!

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Monday March 24, 1975

Rather a nervous day today. On my arrival at the YP Lynn rings me from home to say that a Mr Simpson from Greenwood's wants me to contact him about the job vacancy. I immediately do so and he asks me to go for an interview at 10.30 tomorrow morning. Eileen takes her driving test then, so I ask whether I can go today. We plan a meeting for 5pm. I receive Royal permission from Sarah to leave at 1 o'clock, and come home for lunch.

Mum says that poor Sue didn't get into Nursing College, and that Lynn is having at interview at Barclays Bank at 4.30 today.

At 3 I leap into the bath to make myself presentable for the coming onslaught. You never know, it might be Bye Bye YP before the month is out.

Meanwhile: Later the same day. No, it won't be Bye Bye to the YP at all. In fact, the Yorkshire Post is like Heaven in comparison with the Greenwood Empire. On my arrival at the dreaded place I met a Mr Simpson. He informs me that 'Mr Denis' (whom I presume is Mr Denis Greenwood) 'doesn't like long hair' and so if I should be employed therein, it would all have to go. This didn't amuse me much. I nearly died with laughter on being informed that my wage would amount to £18 at the start and would increase to the vast Onassis-like £20 on my 20th birthday. In other words, a slump of £6 would be awaiting me at the Greenwood's Empire. The prospects too are non-existant. I'll dwell on the subject no more today. I can't wait for the cheerful call of the Yorkshire Post tomorrow morning.

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Thursday February 27, 1975

More ruddy fog all day. I don't mind snow. I can tolerate frost, ice, rain, heatwaves and hurricanes, but I draw the line at fog. A lung congesting white blanket which does nothing but depress all who who into contact with it. Sickening.

We all, other than Kathleen that is, evacuate the library and perch in 'the Black Hole of Calcutta' as Ronnie Wilkinson would say. Bogged down cutting yesterdays EP and todays YP.

Escape to the Central with Eileen again for our Thursday afternoon booze-up. This is becoming quite a regular thing, and I only hope we can manage to keep it up. The trouble is I become so tired after a lunchtime drink. By 3.30 I'm invariably snoring under a desk or in a semi-coma behind a filing cabinet. Out at 4.30 and home by 5.15.

Tomorrow Uncle Harold and the Labour government more or less celebrate their first birthday. I say 'more or less' because the general election was on Feb 28, but the late Mr Heath didn't resign until the middle of August or something. Please do not think that my views about the government have changed in any way. That would be the last thing I'd want. It's just that I've made up my mind that Uncle Harold isn't such a filthy old Bastard after all. In fact, he's quite human really. If he changed to a Tory I'm sure he'd do everyone a favour. Anyway, he pushed the Queen's money through parliament last night, which was good of him.

Let the Bells ring out! Marita just rang. She's coming out with us the weekend after next.

-==-

Thursday February 20, 1975

Eileen and I go to the Central for lunch again. I say 'again' because we did the same thing last Thursday, but that seems to have been missed from these historic pages. Swill down a few pints of lager before moving reluctantly back to the YP.

Chaos reigned this morning. Evidently, the Dowager Lady Mowbray, Segrave & Stourton saw fit to do herself in last night, and alas, no photos of the obscure, highly neglected lady are to be found in our files. The newsdesk and Donald Futrell went berserk, but calmness was dispersed by our beloved leader, Miss Rainford.

Us librarians are getting sick of the quiet and the cold, which we are forced to endure while workmen install new air conditioning in the press hall. Will we survive until May. Wait and see.

At 8.30 John and I go to Gillian's for a beer and record session (nothing else either). Have one glass of Dad's home brew concoction, then decide not to bother with any more. Listen to the Monty Python LP (mine) and a bit of Bowie's 'Diamond Dogs'. Gillian gets even worse, and I'm going to have to make it clear that a) I'm not going to sleep with her, and b) marry her, or c) buy her the Smirnoff Vodka Company. Home at 12 feeling horribly tired, or incredibly bored. I expect it was the latter disease.

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Wednesday February 19, 1975

Beautiful day. A crisp morning with the sun as big as a football following us all the way to Leeds. One would hardly believe it's 93,000,000 miles away, or something equally fantastic.
Margaret Thatcher picked her shadow Cabinet yesterday. Willie Whitelaw is the deputy leader, and the repulsive Sir Geoffrey Howe is 'Chancellor'. Peter Walker and Geoffrey Rippon have received the boot, as it were, and the prodigal Reggie Maudling's been forgiven all his sin sand receives the Foreign and Commonwealth job. Definately a right wing leap for the Tories but I can't say that I disagree. The country needs a good old Churchillian party.

Go to town with Eileen at lunchtime and spend £1 on absolutely nothing. Must be a sign of the times. I can recall the days when I got one shilling and six pence a week, and on Friday I still had change in my pocket.

Prince Andrew is having another quiet birthday today. The Queen and the Duke of Edinburgh are of course out in the Bahamas; the Prince of Wales, the Duke and Duchess of Gloucester, and Earl Mountbatten are in Nepal for the coronation of the King; Princess Margaret is on holiday in the sun, and Lord Snowdon is working in Australia. No one to help him celebrate. I bet they've had a job finding counsellors of state. The Hon Gerald Lascelles and the late Lady Patricia Ramsay will be acting in this capacity no doubt.

To the Hare with John, Naomi and Gillian. The latter young lady certainly knows how to keep hold of someone. Just because I got carried away with her in Peter's van last Friday she thinks I ought to be infatuated for life. Not on her Nellie. Chris, Laura and (Jane's) Helen joined us. Boring really.

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Monday February 10, 1975

A unusual Monday. After the usual ritual of work, John and I went to the Hare & Hounds where his ladyfriend had begged him to attend upon her. Quite a stunning piece she is too. Called Naomi, or 'Nay', an attractive name. It certainly made a change going out with a different crowd.

Had a letter from Denny today. She said she thought she'd been 'a cow' over the way she's ignored me and the happy family these past few months. I forgave her immediately. (Conceited swine that I am).

The Tory Fiasco reaches its cresendo tomorrow. Will it be Margaret Thatcher or old Willie Whitelaw? In my own mind I know that Mrs T will succeed, but anything can happen in politics. Have a bet with Sarah, Carol and Eileen. I stand to win 10p.

A year ago almost to the day I was saying that Mr Heath's (who's he?) leaning towards male company could not be doing him any good. I was right. One day you can be Prime Minister and the next you're just a middle-aged old puff who used to be a big shot in the Conservative party. Cruel, cruel politics.

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Saturday January 25, 1975

A filthy day. Hail, rain, blizzards, and nasty snow storms. Lynn and I walk down the lane under the same little umberella - perishing.

Kathleen on morning off. Just Sarah, Eileen and myself in. Me all day unfortunately. Compile a letter to Christine in the afternoon, that is in between doing the EP and YP filing. Mum rings to say that Dad & John are coming to Leeds, and so I get a lift home with them at 4 o'clock.

Have nice lamb for tea. Sit upstairs with 'Edward VII' fascinating it is too. Feel quite lost and frustrated when I finish it. Have to wait until the Spring for book 2, which deals with Edward's life as King-Emperor.

To Wikis with John, Christine B and Chris, Miss Dibb and Andy, not forgetting Carol. I danced with Miss Dibb for most of the night, who moves quite nicely on the dance floor. Bump into Dave Slater in the gents and he buys me a rum and orange, a Bacardi and coke and a Southern Comfort. Naturally, I feel very drunk by 2am. Arriving home I smash a bottle of milk whilst passing through the kitchen. Sat in the toilet reading - attempting to sober myself up and eventually get into bed at some unearthly hour.

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Tuesday January 21, 1975

Make a file this morning for Miss Davina Mary Sheffield, daughter of Captain and the late Hon Mrs Sheffield. None other than Prince Charles's little lady friend. Whether she'll one day be Princess of Wales is another matter altogether, but she isn't worth ignoring. Whilst researching Miss Sheffield I'm amused to see that she is descended from the Duke of Buckingham, who built Buckingham House, now Buckingham Palace. Is it her intention to get the place back in the family?

At lunchtime I go with Sarah into town. See a novel entitled 'Edward VII'. An irresistible urge comes over me to purchase it, along with a couple of Agatha Christie gems. Back to the YP for an entertaining afternoon. One of Eileen's men friends is now incarcerated in Armley Prison after hitting his wife over the head with a bottle. She seems to mix with a genteel, pleasant mob.

Sit reading 'Edward VII'. It is better than I imagined it would be. Written by an actor from one of the trashy TV hospital series in the 1960s.

See 'Pygmalion' the ancient film. Really good, and liked Wendy Hiller. Leslie Howard was perfect.Bed at 11.30 where I carry on fascinated with King Edward until the early hours.

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Friday December 20, 1974

Very mild day and none of that ruddy, interfering wind. YP all day - rather busy and under-staffed. Kathleen was off all day and Sarah & Eileen were on half-day. Darling Sarah sat with me for 30-odd minutes at lunchtime and we just laughed. She knows I am infatuated with her. She is more than fond of me.

Lynn amused me yesterday when she said ____was positively choked with envy on Tuesday. I can understand him fancying Sarah. His influence over Denny is also a very powerful force at the moment.

David collects me at about 8.30 and we go straight to the Hare & Hounds where we meet Christine and Philip. Quite a pleasant surprise too! Keith, Peter Mather, Carol and Chris Denby are also in, but we don't sit with them. At 9.30, after waiting for Chris for long enough, the four of us go on to the Dyneley Arms - a lousy place. To beat everything, Christine & I finised up in Wikis together. She didn't live it down when Philip's brother saw us together. Back to Pine Tops until 4am when Dave Baker takes her home. Poor Lynn is being sick upstairs after Dave's office party.

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Tuesday December 17, 1974

To Leeds with John on a 33 bus at about 7.45pm. 

We meet Chris in the Highlander where he's been waiting for about an hour. The weather is absolutely freezing cold and we attempt to thaw out with whisky and orange. After two minutes we switch to pints of lager - a shame really. Dave, Lynn, Sue and Peter come at about 9 o'clock and I begin worrying about whether the two youngsters will obtain admission in Rockerfellas. 

At 9.30 we nip across to the Vintage where we have a few drinks with Kathleen, Sarah and mob. Little spot of bother at Rockerfellas with Peter - but we're all admitted. Once again Sarah is overpoweringly stunning. Charming and too glamorous to be capably described. I feel she entices me, and leads me on on these occasions. November 5 was the last occasion, and she did the same this time. We had a few cosy dances together, and rather a lot, though not enough, necking. Lynn says that ____is positively envious at my 'catch'. 

All the girls were great and amused at Eileen catching John off his guard. Even Kathleen laughed at the sight of my brother and Miss Byram copulating openly before a wide range of the assembled multitude. John and I home in a taxi at 2 with Sarah (swoon) and Carol. I was in the back with the ladies - and need I say more than the fact that I paid more attention to Miss Collis than I did Mrs Johnson.

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Wednesday December 11, 1974

James II abdicated 1688. An absolutely perishing day. By the way things are going I forsee Bing Crosby's dream about a white Christmas coming true.

Eileen and I go shopping at lunchtime. We drift around the centre of town in agonising cold and get fish and chips from a little place near the Corn Exchange. Come back to the YP after an hour and with nothing to show for it.

Pleasant afternoon with Sarah. It certainly seems ages since we were in bed together that night at the Johnson residence - and our relationship is degenerating into a mediocre sort of thing. May have better luck with her at Christmas.

38 years ago today King Edward VIII renounced the throne, in order to have his way with Wallis Simpson. Every other book published this year is either on the subject of the Duke of Windsor or the Royal Family since 1917.

A rumpus in the Press about the Prince of Wales spotted at an X-certificate film 'Percy's Progress' at a London cinema. His Royal Highness is reported to have told the usherette that he had 'enjoyed it very much'. And we are all informed that he devoured an ice-cream in the interval. The film deals with a man who has had a penis transplant, and is a follow-up to 'Percy' a good film of a few years ago. A cartoon in the Daily Mail this morning implies that Mary Whitehouse wants a referendum on the monarchy, following this plebian act by our beloved heir.

John and I go to the Hare & Hounds with Mum & Dad, where we consume an excessive amount of alcohol. Following this we move on to the White Horse at Burley-in-Wharfedale, where cousin Dorothy resides. Unfortunately, she's having a night off, and we spend the last hour supping ale.

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Tuesday November 12, 1974

Rhoda Wilson born 1850. Eileen and I go into town at lunchtime where I buy a film for her camera. I expect to capture several shots of Her Majesty during tomorrow's royal progress through the streets of Bradford. Can't wait.

Pleasant afternoon. Take two pictures of the girls. Sarah is a darling. She tells me her Dad is the head postmaster at York. No doubt that morsel of information was an invitation to seduce her passionately behind a filing cabinet, whilst the glories of having a head postmaster for a father-in-law was supposed to play on my sense for self-advancement & ambition.

After tea I have a driving lesson with Harry until 8. Don't do too bad, though the weather is deplorable and we see a nasty road accident down Apperley (ever after) Lane, close to the home of the late Judith Beevers - and several fire engines and the police were in attendance, no doubt pinching the sacks of sugar which had made up the load of the lorry involved in the unseemly affair.

See 'Jennie Lady Randolph Churchill' and the death of Lord Randolph on the ITV programme. The so-called young Sir Winston looked hideous.

-==-

Monday November 11, 1974

Nice day. Eileen promises me the use of her camera for Wednesdays conquering of Bradford by the Queen of England. Talking about conquering, I wonder whether Bradford was actually ever conquered by the Normans, or indeed by anyone else? London, York, Hastings and Wessex were over-run by different tribes of foreigners throughout the Medieval and Dark Ages, but what about grimy little Bradford? I feel very strongly about this. Certainly, William the Conqueror would have cared very little about whether the dwelling of Bradford was a safe catch or not. Had he ever heard of the place? One pictures the scene:-
(enter messenger, falling on his knees)
Messenger: "Sire, I have news from the North".
Conqueror: "Speak, dog."
Messenger: "Oh Sire! Tis news, My Lord, of Bradford!"
Conqueror: "Where?"
Messenger: "Bradford, Sire!"
Conqueror: "Piss off, mate. I've got more urgent things to worry about than news from such northerly parts. Anyway, I thought you'd had the 'flu of late?"
Messenger: Oh, it was nothing, Your Grace. Just a touch of cold it was. Nice of you to mention it though, Sire. It's always such a pleasure to be able to work for such a fab regime. Did you see that in the papers about the nasty King Harold? It was so awful....."
Conqueror: "Off with his head."

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Monday November 4, 1974

See in the morning editions that the new Royal baby is to be called Alexander Patrick Gregers Richard, and not William like that old hag in the Daily Express prophesised. I must admit that I was more than surprised at the choice of names. I can understand Richard and Patrick which complement the baby's father and the earldom of Uslter, but not Alexander which is rarely used as a first Christian name for royal babies.

Sarah and I are on tip toes with excitement about tomorrow's party & are quite determined to become intoxicated. Eileen is back after almost two weeks absence. Home at 6 and spend half an hour on the phone with Marita. She isn't at all surprised at my break from Lynne and seems positively jubilant. She says she realised something was afoot when I asked my so-called girlfriend to sit on the floor in the Hare & Hounds on Friday. MM was positively horrified by this gesture and says something must have come over me to drag me from the usual high standard track of morals and etiquette, regarded for many years as a phenomenon in the area.

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