Tuesday August 14, 1979

_. Dull day. I won't bore you with the details of the office. Later, Ally and I sitting on a sofa. Imagine the scene. She's reading 'Decline and Fall', and I'm eating perhaps the juiciest, squirty orange ever grown. Ally is soaked in orange juice, pips dangling from her perm, the pages of Evelyn Waugh's masterpiece stuck together.

Ally started reading 'Watership Down' but didn't get past page 18. I can understand why.

In the news: Princess Margaret and Roddy Llewellyn are on holiday in Marbella. They flew out 'incognito'  to a villa owned by the Philippines ambassador to the UK. When will she make a honest man of him?

Poor, maligned Princess Anne enters her thirtieth year tomorrow. Since her marriage to 'Fog' Phillips [fog because according to Charles he's 'thick and wet'] she has gone into a steady decline in the affections of the public. According to a new biography she and the Prince of Wales hate each other, and the prince resents Mark Phillips, considering him to be of low intelligence.

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Monday August 13, 1979

_. Maria and the babies came for tea and we had salad and mounds of Mama's homemade bread. Susan and Ally took off to a sauna where they are slowly steaming themselves to death. Women these days are turning into Americans with weekly trips to saunas, solariums, swimming meetings, &c. What next? Weekly trips to the psychiatrist? __________.

Allys is reading 'Decline and Fall' by Evelyn Waugh. I didn't get round to reading it until Christmas. See a film on TV starring Julie Andrews as Gertrude Lawrence - 'Star'. Bed nearly 12.

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Friday August 3, 1979

_. I'm reading more Evelyn Waugh. It's 'Brideshead Revisited' now, and I think the house is based on Castle Howard. Mr Waugh was such a brilliant geezer with a pen. Not really fashionable in the 1970s, but that's probably why I'm drawn to him.

Ally and I decided to stay at home tonight in front of a TV set. Ruby and Arthur stayed in to entertain us. Entertain isn't the word. Ruby's arthritis seemed to put a wet blanker over us all. In order to kill some of the pain in her feet she ceaselessly marches up and down the sitting room, leaning on two sticks and gasping and moaning in the process. Like a wounded animal. Poor Arthur, now 75, says they should never have travelled here.

Edward G. Robinson on the telly.

Hasn't the Queen done well in Zambia? They hail her 'Queen of the World' and everyone is saying how she helped break the ice for Margaret Thatcher, who wasn't getting on very well with Mr Kaunda at the [Commonwealth] conference.  I do wish Jim Rawnsley was the gambling type because I'd take from him every penny he's got on the subject of the monarchy. He says the UK will be a republic by 2000 and that the poor Prince of Wales will never be King. Ludicrous don't you think?

Lynn, Dave, Sue and Peter left for St Ives at about 11:30pm.

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Tuesday January 9, 1979

Slight snow. Boring at the YP. We played cards all lunchtime. I'm becoming quite fanatical about poker. I do have an addictive personality. It was Dave Lawson who said that greyhound racing would be my downfall.

To the library in town with Sarah. Took out the Crossman Diaries 1964-68 which should see me nicely into autumn.

Poor Sarah wanted a volume on rugby league, but the whole of Leeds City Library was ransacked without success. Ray Fletcher will see her right.

On the subject of books I have just finished reading "Handful of Dust" by Evelyn Waugh. Quite the most entertaining volume I've read in years, but sad and frustrating.

Went to Delia's with S(arah) this evening. Delia gave me red wine and spoke about the possibility of decorating the exterior of Leeds Town Hall with garlands of gladioli, &c. She is insane. She is a marvellous friend is Delia Collis with the mind of a teenager. She cooked pork fillet in prunes which was delicious. Sarah and I ate chocolates afterwards and enjoyed a few hands of rummy. The dog, Sophie, resembles a long-haired caramel seal.

At 6:30 we left for Leeds and met Marilyn (Wheeler) at the ABC cinema. Saw Christopher Reeve, Marlon Brando and others in 'Superman'. It started well but was weak. Did a good deal of laughing, but in inappropriate places. It's Sarah's opinion that the advertisements are very often better produced and far more entertaining than the epic on screen. Marlon Brando was paid £200,000 a minute for his brief appearance, I believe.

The journey home was tedious. Marilyn is no conversationalist. She sat there like a dummy. Sarah sat smoking like a chimney, similarly uncommunicative. Pissed up football hooligans were on the upper deck of the bus. Much use of the word 'fuck'.

Home at 11:45. Had cheese on toast. To bed at 12:53am.

-=-

Wednesday December 27, 1978

St John, Evangelist

Quiet day. In bed until afternoon and then I lay, like a Roman senator, in the sitting room, until someone decided to feed me.

I finally acquired a batch of medicine from the doctor, and spent most of the day gulping it down.

Sarah phoned at lunchtime and was sweet. We really should get married, or shack up together. I will kick myself when some bastard from the Regent snatches her up and slips a ring on her anaemic, yet beautiful, finger. I only hope she seeks my advice first.

To bed with Evelyn Waugh at a nice late hour. I am reminded of Tony Brotherwood's quip _________.

The name Evelyn always makes me think of a man. Mind you, so does Jocelyn, and Vivian. Am I queer, perhaps?

-=-

Tuesday September 27, 1977

Not a particularly wild, passionate or even remotely exciting day. I sorted out Lynn and David's engagement announcement with the fat lady on the reception desk and if all goes to plan - which no doubt it will not - the historic announcement will appear on page 32 of the Yorkshire Evening Post tomorrow evening.

'Mr D.A. Baker
Miss L. Rhodes

The engagement is announced between David Andrew, second son of Mr & Mrs H.T. Baker, of Farthingstone, Old Pool Bank, Pool-in-Wharfedale, and Lynn, elder daughter of Mr & Mrs L. Rhodes, of Pine Tops, Hawksworth Lane, Guiseley, near Leeds.'

Evelyn Waugh.

Otherwise, it was all quiet on the Western Front. Continued reading 'Margaret: Princess who appears quite a lot in the Daily Express gossip column' by Willi Frischbender. Nothing new in it at all. Mum, who is also reading it, keeps saying: 'Thank God we didn't buy it'.

'Decline and Fall' by Evelyn Waugh gets better. What a remarkable mind that man had. The character of Paul Pennyfeather is excellent and everyone who reads the book will be drawn immediately to his side. He calls for so much sympathy. The innocence of the principal character too is wonderful. Oh why don't I just go to sleep?







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Sunday September 25, 1977

16th after Trinity. John's 21st birthday. ________.WE ARE A UNITED FAMILY.

John: 21st birthday.

Decline and Fall.

Joy went back to Leeds last night and is going to visit Paul (with the handbag) in Halifax today. Jacqui slept here on the settee. We had breakfast at about 11.30 and John came up afterwards and we celebrated his birthday with a few bottles of wine, which saw us through until about 2. Dom(inic) Melville, whose birthday was yesterday, joined us. Jacqui demonstrated the art of tap dancing on our kitchen floor which was hilarious. Lynn loved every minute of it.

John (who had gone home at 12) returned at 2 in pouring rain to commandeer Pete and I for a spot of labouring work. We dismantled a porch and carried it from Netherfield Road to some remote part of Guiseley and helped to erect it there. It was his birthday present. (The labouring). I haven't given him a proper present yet. He quite understood. He called me a 'bastard'. The three of us did a lot of laughing. John was especially cheerful.

Peter and I returned to Pine Tops and had a late lunch, or tea. Jacqui had a pleasant chat with Mum and Lynn. We watched TV and I refused to leave my chair until after 8.

Joy returned at about 7.30. She hadn't been to Halifax and instead her lover came to Leeds. The poor soul has no sense of direction. They left at about 8.30 and I promised to go to Muswell Hill on October 8. Jacqui is a nice girl.

In bed tonight reading 'Decline and Fall' by Evelyn Waugh. A very good novel. In fact I was sat laughing in bed. Ho Ho Ho.

-=-

Tuesday August 23, 1977

Tony came at 7.30pm and after a coffee we went on to Ilkley so that I could gather together my personal effects before he is taken away to the sanatorium. It was good to lay hands on my Donna Summer LP again and the three quarter of a million singles I'd left there after the last party.

Tony lends me a volume of the works of Evelyn Waugh, which he sells through Octopus Books. When I said that Evelyn Waugh was a very humorous author he replied: "Was she?" Poor, demented lad.

Martyn joined us after 8 and we went to the Rose & Crown and then the Crescent. Only a few drinks. The main topic of conversation was Tony's forthcoming operation. God knows what he's having done. Veins and legs spring to mind.

Back to the flat for coffee and a few farewell photographs. We'll visit him on Friday before nipping over to the Bod for our traditional skin-full. Perhaps Mary will be in?

-=-

Monday April 4, 1977

Thoroughly ordinary sort of day. Just routine at the YP and usual at home. No telephone calls or great news other than the astounding information that the Duke of Beaufort is 77 years old today!

Piss off Michael. You don't half talk a load of shit at times.

                                          POEM

Duke of Beaufort.

Good Old Duke of Beaufort,
You're Seventy Seven today,
with all that luscious parkland,
You're a C*nt with a capital K

(c) MLR.

No, to be honest, I don't like being vulgar. Besides which I'm a leading fan of all dukes of all age and varying fortune. It's quite a while since I made such a silly entry as this. Yes, indeed.

S H I T 


Oh sod it! You've guessed by now I'm doing all this just to waste space. I can't bear to see blank pages in the diary. I bet Evelyn Waugh or Samuel Pepys never did this. Mind you, that's probably why they're famous. Publishers like Michael Joseph or Lord Weidenfeld will be far from enthusiastic by my contribution on this page.

Retire to bed at 12.15am on the morn of my 22nd birthday.

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Wednesday March 9, 1977

Christine Dibb and Graham Airey got engaged. It was a good party - better than I expected. Went with Tony, Martyn and Gayle (Martyn's distant cousin of Oakwood Hall fame). Teamed up with CB and we danced together. I could see Mr ____________seething. Why does Mr _______always accuse other males of stealing his so-called women when everyone knows all along that they were not his women in the first place? CB was fabulous anyway.

Christine & Graham.

Laughed with Lynn about Mr _____ and _____gossiping. In fact Mrs ______was far from pleasant this evening. Bitchy really. Carole came in minus a toe nail and spent most of the evening with Tony. I ate nothing and drank much. Pissed up really.

Peter M told me that dear Lynne is now the regular escort of an officer of the Queen's Dragoon Guards or the Green Howards. Peter says the new specimen is worse than me.

Tony talks about a trip to Brands Hatch a week on Saturday. So far me, Naomi and Martyn are going. Camping for just the one night. Is Brands Hatch in Kent?

Sue and Peter were quaint and  John stayed in the bar avoiding ________lampooning. I mislaid my jacket but CB retrieved it for me. Home at 12, 1 or 2. I don't know. Take your pick. Sit in bed feeling pissed. Still reading Evelyn Waugh (diaries). Really bogged eyed. Pathetic really. It was all for a good cause anyway. Will the engagement last?

-=-

Monday February 21, 1977

It's afternoon when I'm awakened by Susan. She's ridden with another cold. She's like a lobster and sneezing her head off. Mum comes in for lunch and we eat hurriedly because she wants to get back to the grindstone after half an hour or so.

Dad comes in at 3 and says a lunatic from Highroyds threw himself under a train in Guiseley this morning. How he can come home for a hearty lunch after picking up bits of leg, foot and thigh God only knows.

I went to Guiseley Library and got Evelyn Waugh's diaries which have only just been published. CB and I always laugh about Evelyn Waugh, for some reason, and I often sign letters to her 'from Evelyn Waugh's Dad'.

Brisk walk to John and Maria's. Baby is in bed which is disappointing because I wanted to give him some chocolate. Give Maria a run-down on the weekly events and the details of Saturday night's orgy. She enjoys tales of carnage and lewd goings on.

Dave Lawson.

Back home by 5.30. Sue says Dave L's been on the phone. I ring him. He's on half-term until Wednesday. He comes for me at 8.30 and I'm surprised when he suggests we go to the Commercial. He hates the place, but his excuse is that it won't be quite so busy in the week. It's great going out with David because it's brilliant and soothing to know I'm not the only skint guy in the British Isles. After a couple of drinks we go on to see John & Maria who, unbelievably, are tucked up in bed at 9.30pm. This really made David's night and he pulled Maria's leg. John is given the quest of finding David a buck rabbit before he returns to Gloucester on Wednesday. Good old Mr Lawson. Surely one of the greatest persons I have ever met. Won't be seeing him again until CB's party on March 11.



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