Thursday July 14, 1977

Rick's boat trip. A great piss up. I misplaced my El Capone T-shirt and the sunglasses I acquired here last year.

In the Pavement Bar tonight Noel and I met a couple of girls, Jacqueline Sate, of 102 Grosvenor Road, Muswell Hill, London N10, and a marvellous little mover who strongly resembles Sandie Shaw, called Joy.

Es Paradis, San Antonio, Ibiza.

The four of us went to Es Paradis and Playboy One. Much alcohol. Great dancing done. At Es Paradis I met a German in the toilet who took me for a Spanish flamenco dancer. I made a quick escape when he fell down over a sink pulling it from the wall. In the bar I said I was Felipe de Borbon, heir to the Spanish throne. It didn't get any of us a free drink. Hysteria was had by all.

Martyn asked me to sleep in Noel's room because he wants to entertain a blond girl from Stevenage for the night. I readily agreed. He's only young once.

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Wednesday July 13, 1977

Boat trip: Martyn, Mig, Chris, Dave, Peter and John.

Went on a foul boat-trip which cost 5,700,000 pesetas. My camera broke and I transferred my film into Glenn's appliance. Can't win 'em all, eh?

Tuesday July 12, 1977

Glen: picked on.

Bank Holiday in Ireland. Much the same as last night. On the beach all day and in a bar all night. Prince Charles is a complete idiot. Not the real Prince Charles of course - I'm referring to John Grady, Esq.

Glenn is very quiet, but Peter and Martyn do tend to pick on him. Cruel they are. Glen doesn't seem to want to 'fight' back.











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Saturday July 9, 1977

Delia Collis.

Delia's champagne and strawberry party. Not really my scene - old ladies with blue rinses and flashy rings. Delia was fabulous as usual.

Got home at about 5pm with Eileen and Michael (Robertshaw) and within minutes Tony, Linda and Martyn were here to take me off on holiday for 14 bloody days!

Night out at the Poca-a-Poca in sunny Stockport and then waved bye bye to Tony and Linda. To the Hollywood quite pissed up.





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Sunday May 15, 1977

Hereward the Wake

Rogation Sunday. Up at 6.30am with the biggest hangover history has ever seen. The combined hangovers of Hereward the Wake, Edward the Confessor, Napoleon, George Bernard Shaw and Mitzi Gaynor only equal half the one I experienced this morning. Water. All I wanted was water. I would have willingly swapped my best girl for a glass of chilled H2o. Dave obliged by rushing to the bathroom and bringing me a cup full. Passed into unconsciousness and slept until about 10.30. Discuss Glenn's disappearance but we decide not to visit his residence just in case he never made it home last night. Good God. Suppose he's fallen into the Manchester Ship Canal?

Mitzi Gaynor.

Dave accidentally locked his bedroom door with the key inside and we spent half an hour trying to break in. Eventually we used a large built gent from the tap room as a battering ram. Dave and I were in the bar by 12.10 and ale was supped until 2pm. joined by Garry and another guy whose name escapes me. At 2 Dave and I take lunch in the private apartments of the Hollywood and we shared a bottle of wine (Chevalier de la Rose Grand vin De Bourgogne. Importers H. Sichel and Sons Ltd, W2). Not too bad.

Glenn called on us with his holiday money (£145) and the three of us went to the pool room for a game. Laugh myself stupid at Dave who clowns around like no one I've ever known. At 7 o'clock it's time to part. Had a word with Jim Glynn and went to the bar and bought Mrs G a drink and said farewell. The lads took me to Manchester at 7.30-ish and I was home by 10.30 with £290 in my pocket. The lads are coming on June 3 and I plan to go back to Stockport on July 9, the day before 'Operation Ibiza'.

Martyn and Tony are at Pine Tops and M gives me a blank cheque for tomorrow's pilgrimage to WH Smith and Sons. Bath and bed at approximately midnight.

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Friday November 26, 1976

In bed until 11.30 when I'm stirred from my slumbers by the soddin' butcher with Mama's meat order. Still, I've had a good few extra hours 'neath the sheets. Listen to the record player until lunchtime and then leap into a good hot bath. Something of great importance about next years holiday. Late last night I received a phone call from Dave in Stockport asking if he and Glen can come over tomorrow. Great news. They'll be here at 4pm and they hope to stay until Sunday. It certainly looks as though they'll be booking with us for 1977 and a holiday in San Antonio again. We can't go in early June of course because of the Silver Jubilee lark. What about David L too? Martyn, Peter and Chris are the other likely holidaymakers. [This] subject is not yet mentioned to Lynne, but no doubt she'll be too busy saving for her Renault, or whatever car it is, to be interested of my whereabouts in July. Anyway, summer is one hell of a long way off and you all know only too well what I'm like with women.

Work at 5pm. Not feeling too good. Hope it isn't salmonella food poisoning. Quiet night at the YP with no historic news coming in. Saddened however to read in one of the gossip columns that Sir Harold W[ilson] may well be quitting the Commons to go an lecture in Israel. Talk about deserting the sinking ship! Home at 11.30 and watch a revolting film on Rasputin. It's completely distorted and ridiculous. I think a Hammer film.

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Sunday July 11, 1976

4th after Trinity. Home to the United Kingdom of Gt Britain. The plane was delayed for an hour and a half and so we didn't touch down at Manchester until 12.15. Mum and Dad have been waiting for hours and look tired out. We take Pete to Bramhope and he has to lob pebbles at his mother's bedroom window before he can be let in. The rotten sods couldn't even be bothered to wait up for him. Diabolical. A fantastic holiday over. How the hell will I ever settle down?

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Saturday July 10, 1976

Our last night on the town in San Antonio. Accompanied by two women from Burnley - Anne and Sandra. Back to the hotel after the Playboy. We have a riotous affair in our room. Joined by seven Spanish maidens who chant rugby songs until after 4am. The couple in the next room were not overjoyed by the serenade. Miserable gits.

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Friday July 9, 1976

I'm still in Ibiza. Last night is a complete blank. People in the hotel lounge are nudging the person nearest to them and whispering things about me. Did I make a spectacle of myself? Blimey, I'm a loony.

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Thursday July 8, 1976

A drunken day - again. Go on the 'booze cruise' again and managed to sup more booze than on Friday's excursion. Pam and I had a grope on the homeward journey - much to the envy of a couple of hundred other males on the 'voyage'. She says I'm no older than 18 - quite flattering really.

Cut my foot on a broken glass in El Capone's tonight. Why was I wandering around barefoot? Anyway, a bilingual Dutch dame helped me put my socks on in a dark grotto of the bar.

Home to the hotel at 2.30. Purchase a copy of the Daily Telegraph and spew up everywhere.

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Wednesday July 7, 1976

Peter didn't propose to Carmina yesterday, but from tonight's conversation he may well be doing it at this very moment.

Out to the bars with Dave G, Glenn and Lucia, Carmina & Monsi - they go home tomorrow morning & we'll never see them again. Sad, because we have become such friends.

Pete & Carmina go off for a quiet walk and I go up in the lift with Lucia. I got out on the second floor and stood watching as she disappeared up to the third. We have exchanged addresses, but nothing could ever be the same again.

Glenn and I open a couple of bottles of wine in my room (40 pesetas each) and we proceeded to get pissed up. Giggling and laughing like a pair of fourteen year-old school girls - but if you can't giggle on holiday, when the Hell can you?

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Tuesday July 6, 1976

Peter says he's going to propose marriage to Carmina tonight. Otherwise a normal day on the beach improving our tans. David G visits a doctor who tells him to rest up for a few days with his wounds. Goodbye.

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Monday July 5, 1976

Go with Pete, Dave G and Glenn with Carmina and Lucia to the Playboy Club (indoor). We danced a few 'smoochies' but she's frightened to death and shakes like a leaf every time I touch her. Communication is still virtually non-existant and Lucia appears to be bored at times. Peter gets on well with Carmina.

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Sunday July 4, 1976

3rd after Trinity. Independence Day, U.S.A. A hot day again - in the eighties anyway.

Go for a trip around San Antonio in a glass bottomed boat - thoroughly bored by it. The ocean bed was the quietest ocean bed I have ever had the misfortune to lay eyes upon and the only conclusion I can draw is that the local marine life also take a siesta at this time of day.

Pete and I go on the beach after lunch and lay in the hot sun improving our tans for a couple of hours.

Out tonight with three Spanish ladies to the El Capone Bar and then to the outdoor Playboy Club until after 2am. Back to the hotel bar and drink until 3. Oh, if only we could understand one another. Cannot adequately describe the frustration of having a failed conversation with a lovely bird with sexy, big eyes.

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Saturday July 3, 1976

Typical Ibiza day followed by typical Ibiza night.

Friday July 2, 1976

The boat trip to Cala Bassa proved a fantastic experience. Three men overboard; topless fraulins; & more booze than I've ever seen on a floating vessel before.

I sank one full bottle of champagne and one bottle of white wine. Vomiting over the side at one stage. A wild frolic on Cala Bassa beach. Several maidens were aware of my presence.

Tonight: met a lot of Spanish girls in the hotel and tried to communicate with them. Had quite a laugh. From Catalonia, wherever that is.

-=-

Thursday July 1, 1976

Dominion Day, Canada. A fantastic, wet day. The chamber maids got us up at 10.30 or so, and I went down to write a few postcards. Send them all off except ones to Chris & Denise. The weather is cloudy and by 12 it's pissing down. At 12.30, Pete, Dave Glynn (the lad in the next room to ours) and I get a taxi in torrential rain to the harbour where all the Club 18-30 mob are awaiting the arrival of Miss Nottingham and Mr Smarty Pants. The rain gets worse and everyone is soaked through to the skin. We are told that the (boat) trip won't be run today and we're invited back tomorrow at the same time. Walk back to the hotel in the monsoon and take some funny photographs which I can't wait to see.

A typical Ibiza night.

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Wednesday June 30, 1976

One of those memorable Ibizan nights when Peter was sick. The Ibiza booze is sure going down a treat, folks.

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Tuesday June 29, 1976

See in an old copy of the Daily Express that England is sweltering in terrible heat conditions. Mum will be in her element. 90 degrees F!

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Monday June 28, 1976

A nice Ibizan day followed by a typical Ibizan booze-up. Have settled down to the routine of doing bugger all quite easily.

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