Tuesday May 2, 1978

Continuing torrential weather. Jacq and I went by train to Leeds arriving there at 8:10am. She went to the YWCA to slip into something befitting a Dacre, Son and Hartley employee. I astounded them all at the YP by my early presence.

The YP was dead. I scrounged a lift to Guiseley at 4 with Delia & Sarah.

More ghastly salad for tea and afterwards I phoned Stockport Dave to tell him I cannot afford to go over on Saturday, and he suggested coming to see me instead. ________________.

I didn't mention this at the time but last week Dave of Gloucester phoned to say he couldn't make it to Helen and Graham's on May 19. I am now going to have to contact Helen to decline the long standing invitation ~ yet again. They'll be taking it personally before very long. I was so looking forward to seeing them again. Jacq and I discuss going together to see the Malins, but the week after it is Trixie's 50th birthday party, and the fare to Peterborough we simply cannot manage.

Tonight watched a programme about the Great Train Robbery (1963) and then retired to bed at 11:30.

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Thursday February 23, 1978

Yes, dear reader, the thaw is upon us. But the poor soggy people in Devon and Cornwall are 2,000,000 fathoms beneath the frozen depths of whatever sea surrounds that picturesque peninsula.

Blimey, this time next week and it will be March and everything that this month brings to mind will be going on in the hedgerows and fields of this great island of ours. Let's hope that the mood of the population brightens. I really wouldn't mind creating a new life in 1978. I'm nearly 23 ____________.

To get a bit, or slightly serious: yesterday I sent a letter to Helen & Graham from my solicitors moaning about the lack of communication from Ailesworth ... and what do you think? Yes, I had a letter in this morning's post saying May 19 is just right. They probably think I'm over the top in the Happy World, where all right minded people belong.

Watched a good Yankee film on BBC2. Jim and Margaret Nason came up at 9 and stayed until approx 12. The evening ended with everyone laughing and in high spirits. Lynn __________________________.Oh dear.

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Wednesday December 28, 1977

_.Ghastly day at the YP and so I'll say no more. However, John's party tonight made up for it. Feeling decidedly Bohemian I clad myself in a collarless shirt and braces and ruffled up my hair and reintroduced that glazed glint to my disgustingly attractive eyes. Lynne Mather was there. Her reaction on seeing me was to exclaim: "Oh Michael! Haven't you let yourself go?" Let myself go indeed.  It proved to be the punch line of the whole evening. Poor Lynne looked quite well really and she seemed to fluctuate between David L and MM. It's very unusual for Dave to fall for the charms of any female, but a definite warming towards Lynne was obvious. Denise and Marita on good form.

Lynne Mather.

Helen and Graham were the best. I didn't realise until this Christmas just how much I miss Helen. Two years ago we were always in the pub together, invariably bringing the place down and seeing her again has brought these memories flooding back.

Maria was very drunk. She banged about on the piano, cig in mouth, destroying Christmas Carols.

The whole thing fizzled out long before I wanted it to. Jimmy Macdonald reckons he's a wild boozer, but when it all boils down to it he's an average drinking man of moderate nocturnal habits. Even John danced. By 3:00am it was over.

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Tuesday December 27, 1977

Bank Holiday in England, Ireland and Wales.

I failed to mention that Helen (the Mrs Helen Malin) and I had another bet yesterday. After paying her the £1 note for 1975 bet we placed another wager. She says Her Majesty will abdicate by January 1, 1981. I have obviously won this one. She (Helen, not the Queen) has moved to Peterborough and a four bedroomed house. I'm invited whenever I fancy going.

Up at 9:30 and cleared the devastation with Dave. Sandra and Miss LD are smoking and lounging like Roman whores whilst we slave. Dave taped some of my records and I made breakfast. I was home by 11:30. No hangover or touch of the squelches. The Lawson coffee liqueur usually loosens everything nicely.

Spent the day at home chiefly discussing the events of last night with the girls. I do love David's Christmas parties.

(Uncle) John, Sheila and Valerie came at 6:30 and for six or seven hours we sampled the wine and forced food down ourselves. Disgusting really. (Uncle) John became greatly pissed and was very amusing. He invited us all to his Canary Island home and even suggested to Lynn & Dave that they should honeymoon there. Good, eh? The only sad thing about all this is that Windsor will never be the same again. Valerie is nice. To bed at 2:00am with the horror of work stretching before me. Ghastly. Tomorrow will be hideous I know.

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Tuesday October 18, 1977

For the sake of history I'll just mention the West German hijacking rescue which took place in Somalia at one o'clock this morning. All 86 hostages were freed and three of the four terrorists involved were executed. The three leaders of the Baader-Meinhof terrorist gang 'committed suicide' early this morning in Frankfurt's top security prison.

The only other news of importance today is that the Prince of Wales is in the USA on an official visit. No doubt little Amy Carter fancies her chances. The work going on at Princess Anne's Gatcombe Park is finished and is now ready for the royal occupants, &c.

I haven't mentioned any of the items here previously because quite frankly when one is in the employment of a newspaper one tends to ignore the news and writing about newsy things is 'talking shop' don't you think? Besides, why should I worry you with the nasty news items of the nineteen seventies? You have much more to worry about down in the 21st century with your nuclear wars and loaves of bread costing £2,000 each.

I wrote to Helen (Malin) in Gloucester saying I will send her the £1 I owe her on the day that the royal baby is born. I also wrote a note to David just to let him know that although he's deserted me I have no intention of doing the same to him.

John (Grady) told me that when Chris and Pete were over in Rawtenstall on October 1st they told him how quiet and morose I had become of late. Me? Quiet and morose? I'm the bloody life and soul and always will be. ____________. I just give up, I really do.

Martyn phoned at 9 and seemed to be much better.

Papa seems to have made the discovery of a wonderful strange jar which would convert into an ideal lamp. However, he wants to make wine in it. This brewing is rapidly taking over the lives of my dear parents. I think it is ever such a good idea.

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Wednesday May 11, 1977

Don't hear a bloody thing until Mum and Dad come in for lunch at 1.45pm. Sat yawning over a cup of tea and then opened my mail. Two bloody letters. One from Helen Malin which points out I owe her £1 and not vice versa. Oh shit. I said that the royal baby would be born in the spring or summer of '77 and if it arrived any later I would pay up. What a horrific thought. The other is a letter from Kathryn. It is perfection itself and I settle down to reply and before I know where I am it's 4 o'clock and time to go to the dreaded YP.

Diary: red ink works wonders

Charged down the lane and got at bus. At the office for 5. I made enquiries about coaches for Saturday returning Sunday. Peter Mather amazes me __________.

Work was busy and tiresome. Ursula is very nice to work with. I do believe I experienced an erotic dream about her the other night. Of all people. I must be daft or something. How do you like my change of handwriting? Mrs Monkman, who left number 60 yesterday, gave me the pen. I do believe her brother sent it to her from Japan. One would have thought that the Japs would have caught onto the biro by now. I still think this nice red hue works wonders. Blue ink became so depressing.

The taxi driver tonight was no leading authority in any field. If he was he didn't bring it into the conversation.

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Tuesday October 12, 1976

Lynne comes at 7.30pm and Tony arrives at 8. The three of us nip down to the Hare where we meet Helen and Graham - something of an anti-climax. Nice seeing them, but what is there to say after 6 months? CB is in fighting form. See Judith and Kathryn and mention the party to them. Will they come? I'll quiz Judith on Thursday.

Believe it or not, I still think constantly of Carole. It's every time I see Lynne that somehow I begin to compare the two. Don't ask me why. She haunts me more and more. It's not so bad when I actually see her. She means nothing to me then. God. I am possessed. Imagining the whole damned lot probably. Lynne deserves the GCVO for sticking me for so long. I shall have to write to Audrey Callaghan [throb, throb] and persuade her to mention it to Jim.

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Saturday May 29, 1976

Wake at some God forsaken hour with excruciating pains in my left leg. Cramp, I take it to be, but on inspecting the offending limb I discover a large conglomorate mass of what can only be described as nothing but vein. I sit on the edge of my bed and sigh. Why should it be my lot to undergo the trauma of a coronary thrombosis at my time of life? I am going to die without a fight, that's for certain. Ring Maria who doesn't know whether she's going to the wedding or not in the horribly wet conditions. I have a coffee and prepare a rough draft of my last will and testament.

To Menston at 12.45 and sit in the empty Methodist chapel for 10 minutes listening to the organist bashing away heartily. George Waite's Mum sits next to me and we sing the 23rd Psalm together. Only 15 people in church including the bride and groom. Helen looked fabulous - all flimsy and feminine - in fact like a Venetian lady from the 14th or 15th century, with the Juliet-style headdress. Both look so happy and matched and were the only people present who didn't seem to notice the pouring bloody rain. Maria and Carole arrived at 12.50 and sat on the other side of the chapel to me. Carole looked pale and almost insane. Her eyes dead and lifeless. The poor kid is taking life so seriously. She's going camping with Denise and 3,000 lads this afternoon. After the wedding Maria, Carole and I call in at the Hare for a drink. Carole leaves us at 3 and the two of us walk under Maria's umberella to Harry Ramsden's for a late luncheon.

Get home at 4pm. Pete M calls at 5 o'clock when along with Chris we leave for Pateley Bridge. Get to the pub at 7 o'clock and drink until 11 with the mob. Sleep in vans on a desolate hillside (Greenhow?). A good laugh all the same.

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Wednesday May 26, 1976

Buy Helen and Graham a ridiculous pepper mill in Schofield's. Don't suppose they'll ever use the damned thing, but at least it's something.

March down the lane at 8.30pm with the pepper mill suitably wrapped in Christmas wrapping paper. Contemplate my life.

Received another letter from Carole today begging me to go back out with her under any conditions. She says if she only sees me once a month she'll be happy. She included in the photographs we had taken at Blackpool at Easter. How can she expect me to go back to her? A fool she is, and a fool she'll always be if she continues with this silly craze.

Meet Helen at 9 o'clock and we walk across to the Malt Shovel for a quick drink. (A quick four or five drinks actually.) We talk about our lives and listening to Helen's sordid history over the past three years one realises how fantastic she must feel being settled at last. She tells me that everyone should have experience of living alone, away from home and parents, before marriage is contemplated. She says home life is cushy and people have no idea how to cope on their own until they do this. I disagree on this. Look at the happy marriages that have worked between people of no previous 'domesticated' experience? Walk her home at 11 o'clock after wishing her all the luck in the world. I take my leave and walk home. A mild, tranquil night.

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Thursday April 8, 1976

Helen Lockyer, 22. She is getting married on Spring Bank Holiday Monday at the end of May and is departing from our midst to reside in Gloucester for the rest of her married life. Sad when people from 'our circle' marry and depart. It seems to be catching on.

Even June Bottomley is engaged to be married. Chris and Christine saw her in Horsforth last Friday night and she gave them a flash of her ring. He's an accountant or something. I wish her all the luck in the world anyway, because I will always be very fond of her even if she did muck me about all those years ago - well, two actually.

Out with Mum and Dad to the Hare & Hounds. Meet Carole outside and Helen and Shirley inside. John comes alone at about 9 o'clock. I get a little canned trying to keep up with Papa, who is working at 10 o'clock. Quite a merry night it turns out to be. Judith R and Kathryn walked in at 10. J came back from Birmingham on Sunday and the break with Terry is for good I think. Kathryn brings me home in her mini and we - the three of us -have a coffee until after midnight.

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Friday October 10, 1975

Carole is still at death's door. Realising this fact, I dashed into town at lunchtime to get her a box of chocolates in an attempt to show her how much I love her. Whilst in town I get myself a pair of shoes and a pair of hideous green trousers, which I don't like at all. On my arrival home I sell them to John (the trousers that is) and I find myself £8 better off. Or do I? No, I don't, because I'd have had the £8 in the first place.

Go straight to Carole's on the 33 bus. She is propped up in bed, and her grandmother, the Dowager Mrs Phillips, is being entertained by Mrs P in the drawing room. Carole does look a lot better, and the chocolates do cheer her up somewhat. I stay half an hour and then get the bus home in time for tea. Walk up the lane with Lynn.

After tea I'm once again back down the lane to the Hare. Along with Helen and CD I go to Carole's once more and spend half an hour with her again. Lynn and Dave, Sue and Peter are also there, and Dave bought her a couple of bottles of the hard stuff. I go back to the Hare and stand with CD and Martyn Cole and Ken Dibb - who is pissed. Walk home at 11.30 accompanied by CD, who is being pestered by Richard Wellock.

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