Sunday March 25, 1973

Sue woke me at 9 o'clock!! I have not been out of bed so early on a Sunday for at least 2 years. But a brisk swim will do me much more good than simply rotting in bed! Sue and I listened to the Ed Stewart Show on Radio 1 whilst we had breakfast. Alison came across at about 9.45 to walk with us to the swimming baths. We left 5 minutes later. On arriving at the pool at 10.20 Sue and Al went inside leaving me sitting on the wall waiting for June until nearly 10.45. She came running down the road looking very distressed saying she had been waiting for me for half an hour!

From 10.50 to 11.55 had a good time in the pool. June looks so different in the water. I cannot really say that Susan liked her, but what does that matter? She's my girlfriend at that's that. At noon went to get changed and then spectate until nearly 1 o'clock, eating cheese and biscuits, crisps, and "Pink Panther" chocolate. The weather was really miserable and at 1 it began to rain. I accompanied the girls to the bus stop. We waited for nearly half an hour and June, Linda and Janet finally got their bus. I ran homeward in the rain . Had lunch of rabbit pie - yes, the actual rabbit that I gutted yesterday.

Mum and Dad were in an argumentative mood and I was greatly relieved to hear that Auntie Hilda, Uncle Tony and the girls were coming over to see us for tea. They arrived at about 5. I was reading a very tatty copy of "I Will Repay" by Baroness Orczy.

Tonight was my first Sunday evening at home for 2 months! Absolutely dreadful without June. Anyway, we're going out tomorrow evening instead. Dad went to work at about 7. Mum with Auntie H and Uncle T went down to the Commercial at Esholt until nearly 11. We all had a good supper and I departed to bed at about 12.30. Auntie Hilda will be 37 on Wednesday. She was born in 1936 during the brief reign of my hero, King Edward VIII.

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Sunday March 18, 1973

2nd in Lent. Awoke to the sound of all the people on Tranmere mowing lawns and pruning back those sprouting roses. It was 12.30 and the morning was gone. A beautiful sunny day. Went down for bacon and eggs and mushrooms. Absolutely delicious. After a quick chase around the garden full of "a host of golden daffodils" I took up the sunday newspapers. Tragedy. Mark Phillips has denied the rumours of his romance with Princess Anne. She denied the rumours 2 weeks ago. Is it curtains for the Christmas wedding? Yes, it seems as though at Easter engagement is now dashed on the rocks of disaster. Such a pity. Watched an old fashioned film on the afternoon film matinee spot. Then took to the bathroom for 40 minutes emerging feeling greatly refreshed and healthy. After tea Dave phoned and offered me a lift to the Emmotts in his car. What a tremendous feeling it was! Fancy, Dave being able to drive! Mum and Dad went out about 7.30. Dave called for me at 7.45. He drove away perfectly. We arrived at the Emmotts at 8. June was late and didn't arrive until 8.40. I sat in the bus shelter wearing my new bags feeling very miserable until her arrival. We stayed at the Emmotts until 9.30, when Dave gave June and I and Martin V-B a lift to The Drop in Guiseley - not a very nice place and much too modern for my taste. June wasn't keen either. On the whole it was a beautifully pleasant evening. Dave gave June a lift home to Horsforth dropping Martin V-B off at Rawdon Crematorium - rather appropriate. He dropped me off at my door at 11. Such a good day it's been. --==--

Friday March 2, 1973

Got up at 7.35. Not at all nervous about my coming interview at Middleton St George. In fact I've grown quite accustomed to having these interviews now. Put on my interview suit, and got a lift into Guiseley with Mum and Dad at 9. I boarded the 55 bus and got into Leeds for 9.50. Looked into a few shops and went to the station at 10.30. My ticket to Darlington cost £1.55. The train left for York at 11.15. Changed at York at 11.55 and got into Darlington at 12.55. My first impression of the college was not a good one. In fact I had doubts I'd come to the right place. The college dates from 1970 and was previously a RAF camp - it still looks like one. What else could it be situated slap bang in the middle of Teesside airport. We began at about 2. The interviewees were separated into 2 groups. Half going to interviews and the other half doing a written test. I started with the test. What a stinker! It lasted 45 minutes. My first interview lasted 35 minutes and was conducted by some sort of college idiot - a decent bloke really. We got talking about family histories and went into length about the Wilson family. He seemed to enjoy it. My second interview was with the head of the History department - a fidgetty, intent, little Welsh chap. He also went on about family history and suggested me doing it for a project if I was accepted at the college. I left at 4.25 and caught a train back to Darlington. After chopping and changing I arrived in Leeds at 6.20. I rang Mum and told her to ring Sue and Toffer to let them know I'd be late. I got home at 7.30. Auntie Hilda, Uncle Tony, Karen, Jill and Diane arrived simultaneously. I had my dinner and Uncle T kindly gave me a lift to the Chuck Wagon at 8.
I have never known it to be so busy. Sue R was almost crying with the deluge of orders which Toffer kept bringing in. On adding up the orders at the end Sue said that they had taken £60 in the one night! You can imagine how I felt at 12.30 - up to my eyes in dirty, greasy dinner plates. At about 1am we all collapsed into the empty restaurant and drank off our exhaustion. Worthington hasn't half grown since our last meeting - his legs especially. Toffer brought me home. Mum and Dad had only just gone to bed. The Gadsbys had left at 12.45. I was utterly exhausted after chasing round all day. To bed.

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Saturday February 24, 1973

Mum got me up at 10.30. My interviews in Leeds. Set off at 11 but Mr Rawnsley gave me a lift into Guiseley, and then made my way to the train station - my Leeds train came at 11.15. My first interview with a Miss Cook at Debenham's was quite satisfactory - it lasted 20 minutes. She gave me an application form and told me to come back in July. I spent the next 2 and a half hours walking round Leeds. The large indoor market and the many pedestrian precincts are a lot better than the traffic filled streets. Bought some sandwiches and ate them in the park.I then went to look at the parish church where my great-grandfather, John Rhodes married Christiana Ross in 1890. Quite an elaborate pile.

2nd interview was not quite satisfactory. She said I would need "O" Level Maths before they would accept me. That's out for a start! The afternoon seemed such a drag and I was on the Ilkley train at 4.30.

Once again I was almost starving to death on my arrival home. I ate a large dinner whilst Mum sat by demanding to know the results of my interviews. I told her that they had hardly been successful.

It was on the news tonight, the headlines to be precise, that Marion, Countess of Harewood, who was divorced from the Queen's cousin in 1967, is to wed the Liberal leader Jeremy Thorpe, whose 1st wife died in 1970. They seem to make a nice couple. However, Lord Harewood has fallen from Royal favour since his re-marriage in 1967 to Patricia Tuckwell, whom Dad always calls "Miss Barnworthy" for some unknown reason. Old Harewood had a son to Miss Tuckwell back in 1964 - they very year before his late mother the Princess Royal died. I wonder if she knew? H must certainly be an embarrassment to the Queen.

Went down to the Chuck Wagon at 7. Pauline has refrained from her usual course of making passes at me. She remains a spinster, and talks even more. Toffer threatens to gag her one of these days. I was home by 1.15. Strange for Saturday nights. Came to bed 2.15.

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Tuesday January 2, 1973

I awoke at 12 lunchtime. It's Mum and Dad's birthday today. They're 38 and 39 respectively. We haven't bought them a present yet. Lynn is hiding the money somewhere - and besides - it's half day closing down in Guiseley. In the afternoon I went to Bradford Library and took out a book on the Spanish Civil War 1936-39. Arrived home on the 6 o'clock bus. Rushed up the lane to find the family sitting around in their splendour waiting to go for tea to Harry Ramsden's. I've lived on Harry's doorstep for 5 years and this is my first visit. Dad says people come from Australia simply to eat "one of each" and a carton of mushy peas. It's hardly worth the journey I can assure you. In the evening (7.45-10.45) I did my history essay entitled: "Why did Germany and Italy involve themselves in the Spanish Civil War and what were the consequences of this war". Mum and Dad went up to the Albert at Yeadon for a drink - coming home at 10.45. I had supper and retired to bed at midnight. Back to school tomorrow - History, economics and current affairs all in quick succession - yuk. Mum and Dad are playing romantic love songs downstairs. They've had a happy birthday.
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Monday January 1, 1973

The bells of St Oswald's Church, Guiseley announced the New Year. I was standing outside Pine Tops - alone on the drive - as 1973 came in. John, Denise, Dave and Chris were inside. I could hear the Smiths next door singing "auld langs ayne". Mum and Dad returned at 12.45 with a party of friends. Sue and Alison came along afterwards. The party went on until 6.30am. John was sick and retired to bed at 3.30, and Denise and I ruined the party for Chris R by telling him that he resembled somebody off an Oxfam poster - he failed to see the funny side and took off home at 2.30. Lynn and Jackie came much later. Dave B fancies Lynn. Dad left for work at 6.30am when Sgt. Bill Stott collected Dave and him in the cop car. Denise and I slept downstairs and saw John off to work at 7.30. Mum followed to work at 9, cursing the fact that people have to work on New Year's Day. I slept from 12.30 to 1.40. I had been drinking whisky.
Auntie Eleanor and Uncle Jack and Stephen (who was as black as the ace of spades) arrived at 7.30pm and stayed until 11.40.
My first day as a European citizen. Britain has signed away a thousand years of splendid isolation to join the 250,000,000 Frogs, libidious Italians, etc. I suppose they'll sell the Queen to the French one day. I doubt whether Her Majesty is in favour of the Common Market. After all, it'll mean the end of the Commonwealth. I'm going to bed. It's 12.02.

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Birth of Mig's Journal

On January 1 1973 I was a 17 year-old living at Pine Tops, 58 Hawksworth Lane, Guiseley. I was a pupil in the 6th form at Benton Park Grammar School, Rawdon. At home I lived with my parents, Lawrence (born in 1934) a police constable based at Guiseley police station; mother Nora (born 1935) who worked as a secretary at Barnes & Winder (trailers?) at White Cross, Guiseley. My siblings are John (born 1956), an apprentice joiner from 1971 with Slater & Padgett, of Yeadon; and 2 sisters, Lynn (born 1958), a schoolgirl; and Susan (born 1959) a schoolgirl.

In 1973 I was , apparently, obsessed with June Bottomley and the 23 year-old Princess Anne and was somewhat over zealous with my usage of the exclamation mark.

Some of the characters appearing in my 1973 journal:
Uncle Harry (1922-94) my father's eccentric brother. Policeman and heavy drinker.

Toffer Riley, aka Christopher Riley, owner of the Chuck Wagon, Guiseley restaurant. Bearded, long hair.

Sue Riley (born 1950) Toffer's wife

Dave Lawson (born 1955) schoolfriend since 1967 who moved to Benton Park with me from Guiseley Secondary School in 1971. Later teacher and market garden proprietor.

Some schoolfriends: Christopher Ratcliffe (born 1955); Christine Braithwaite (born 1956); Louise Harris; Denise Akroyd (born 1956); June Margaret Bottlomley (born 1956); Graham Cowburn (known as Cowie); etc.

This journal begins on January 1, 1973. It was born during a country in crisis. The Heath government was on its last legs. The "Three Day Week" reigned. TV closed down in the evening. The nation was on strike. Power cuts, &c. The idea of writing a diary in a Pepys-like setting next to a burning candle inspired me to take up my pen. I compiled my diary in a page-a-day WH Smith diary. It runs from Jan 1 1973 to somewhere in 1991 and consists of millions of words. Would it be a good idea to publish, in an abridged form to protect the dead, my banal outpourings? Yes. So here goes