Friday August 17, 1979

_. Stayed in bed until 11. Poor Ally had to get up to go to Bradford. It's the YP tonight for me.

At 12 I went with Mum and Dad to the wine shop on Easterly Road, Leeds, where they bought £12 worth of concentrates for home winemaking. The Christmas brewing is about to commence. From here we went to the Fox & Hounds at Horsforth for some lunch. The landlord asks: 'will some old beef sandwiches do?'  Er, no they won't. On instead to the White Cross for scampi and chips. Disastrous here too. The scampi came out frozen. Mum's plate was powdered with ice. The scampi no doubt freshly netted in the Arctic circle.

Then on to Morrison's and at 3:30 I left for the YP. I saw Wendy for the first time in ages. Left at 10. Got a bus back to Guiseley. Andrew, Ally's brother, stays the night with us because his parents are at a party on Westgate. A nice, quiet boy. He slept on my bedroom floor in a sleeping bag.

-=-

Friday February 16, 1979

_. Slept until 11. Wrapped up well before leaving for Sarah's at Horsforth at 12 o'clock. Mum was grumpy because I was venturing out when I'm supposed to be ill and off work. To Ivory Towers [238, West End Lane, Horsforth] where I collected a pile of clothes ordered from the Grattans catalogue. Delia, Sarah and I went first to Morrisons and then a wallpaper shop. It wasn't an easy thing selecting wallpaper. We all had very different opinions. Just why was I there?
They are lovely women.

Home at 5:30. Tonight, to the Shoulder with Sue, Peter, Chippy, Debbie, "Floo" and his moll. Quite boring really. Peter M, Chris R and Steve came in and I chatted with them to break the monotony.  Home at 11, sober and dull. I argued with Motherdear about something ridiculous.

Pnuemocallaghanicosis is sweeping the country. It affects its victims in a serious, embarrassing way. The symptoms are a] not wanting to work, b] an inability to dispose of refuse or move the bins, c] the appetite is unaffected and d] the victim is still quite capable of consuming vast quantities of alcohol, e] he looks outwardly healthy but is dim witted and slow to grasp the situation, and f] he becomes belligerent to those who might want to boost the economy, or be inclined to labour for the greater good. The only known cure is to give the victim an immediate pay rise of over 50 per cent.

-=-

Thursday December 21, 1978

Sorry about this ink ~ but my faithful fountain pen is missing.

Back to the YP. Not at all festive. In fact Kathleen was quite dull. She's usually all child~like and giddy at this time of year.

Left work at 1pm and concluded my shopping at Schofield's. I purchased a wonderful Ian Dury single ~ "Rhythm Stick" and made my way home.

Susan and Peter were flat out on the settee ~ both suffering from colds. Peter was too ill to go out tonight. This stunned me. He went home at 5:30 taking me down the lane with him. It's deep in soddin' snow.

I almost froze to death on the bus. The vehicle rattled and shivered on its miserable journey to Horsforth.

To Bibi's in Leeds after having a double whisky at the Leisure Centre. It was the usual YP Library "do". Boring really. On with Sarah, Carol J, and Monica to the Regent at Chapel Allerton ~ the usual cattle market.

Slept in the Pink Suite at Ivory Towers ~ quite a laugh.

-=-

Saturday October 7, 1978

Sun rises 07:10 sun sets 18:26

Sunny, warm, bright day. Out of bed at about 11:30 and into a hot bath with the radio blasting at full throttle. I do so love Saturdays.

Jacq phoned me while my ears were full of soap so I told her to ring me back. She rang back at about 2. I arranged to meet her in Horsforth tonight.

Dad collected the proofs of Lynn and Dave's wedding photos from Bryan Waite this afternoon. They're spectacular.

Sarah phoned me at tea time and I told her I'd be up to West End Lane for 8 o'clock. Met Jacq at 8 following a chase through Horsforth because the bus conductor forgot to kick her off the omnibus at her stop.

We went by car with Sarah to the off~licence where I spent £4 on Cinzano, beer and lager. Then we went to the Regent in Chapel Allerton where the party goers gathered. Tony, Martyn, with his girlfriend (who lives in Otley, and who he met in Ibiza in '77)Marilyn, Carol J, &c. Jacq drank 'Jelly Beans'. Sarah was a delight, as usual. A guy strongly resembling Geoff Boycott tagged onto us, and had me in stitches with tales of his recent holiday in Romania. I couldn't think of a worse place to go. Bloody Commies! Tony was very amiable. My recollections of leaving the Regent are blurred and confused. However, I do recall the dramatic arrival at the flat in Horsforth.

Bev Wheeler had lined the driveway with hundreds of candles in jars and I joked that all the aircraft scheduled to land at Yeadon airport tonight would probably come down in the garden. She didn't find this particularly amusing.

Sarah and I smoked 20 of Jacq's cigarettes. I had a debate on racialism with some guy masquerading as a barrister. Sarah was in hysterics when I explained to her that we Brits smell revolting to Pakistanis. They may stink of curry and spices, but to them we smell of stale Yorkshire pudding, and fried smoked bacon.

A friend of Jacq's called Lynda, who used to work at Dacre Son & Hartley caught my eye _______________________.

Sarah picked up a young man called Richard and they left at 4:30am. Carol J and Tony brought us home at 5 o'clock. We didn't attempt to get any sleep until 7.

-=-

Friday May 19, 1978

Met Jacq in the Central at lunchtime and discussed tonight's thrilling adventure. Having no idea where to go, we finally decide on Cinderella's. I don't think I've been since Dec 1976 when we went on the Christmas "do" there from the YP.

I got a bus at about 9pm to Leeds and met Jacq at the Jubilee, opposite the Town Hall, before moving to the Merrion Centre. She contributed £5 for her share of the evening's alcohol. In Cinderella's for 10:30. For most of the night the DJ played the 'Saturday Night Fever' LP which I (far more than poor Jacq) thoroughly enjoy. We didn't get smashed either, although we did blow £10. The dance floor was the coolest place to be and we danced like half-crazed Māori tribesmen until we were virtually thrown out at 2:15am.

The night was warm and light and after taking Jacq back to the hostel I set off along Burley Road in the direction of home. Again, I walked as far as Rawdon Crematorium before anyone decided I needed a lift.

On New Road Side I stood outside Christine's loudly whispering her name. Her bedroom light shone invitingly out across the sweet smelling Horsforth meadows, and my heart raced at the thought of her négligé clad form coming out to greet me.

It must have been about 5:0am when I eventually got to bed.

-=-

Wednesday February 22, 1978

The traffic on New Road Side woke me at 6:30. Hungover. Predictable really. Christine's Mum went off to work hailing her goodbyes at me as I lay ~ almost in state ~ on her settee. She looked older. I haven't seen her since Mr Braithwaite died in May.

CB and Honey.

Christine was up and looked just as she did last night. I think she has an 'A' Level in 'How to Drink to Excess Without Suffering the Repercussions'. She buggered about under her car bonnet whilst I was entertained by Honey, the gorgeous doggy. It's a Golden Retriever with a bit of Alsatian thrown in. We laughed when CB told me she wanted to call it 'Spot'.

A cup of coffee and mug of orange juice gave me a boost and at 8 I bid my fond farewells and cleared off on a green bus to the YP. Having a bus stop at the garden gate must be bliss. Or is it?

CB gave me a letter that she intended posting today and I read it on my short, cold journey into Leeds. I roared with laughter and tears trickled down my icy cheeks at her wondrous composition. The girl is the greatest!

At the office Sarah and Eileen pulled my leg all morning about my stay at Horsforth. Mind you, to them I suppose it appeared more than it actually was. I left at 2:00 because I was in no fit state to do any work. My eye balls were hanging over the sides of my sockets.


Found my way home in the mist and fog and spent the remainder of the day in confinement at the fireside. For each second that I managed to keep my eyelids from caving in I thought I deserved a Duke of Edinburgh Award, preferably of the gold variety. Sadly, however, my courage went unrecognised. It's typical of the age in which we live that good British 'graft' is taken for granted.

-=-

Thursday September 29, 1977

To Sarah's after work and on to the Leisure Centre at Horsforth at 6.30 for my first ever game of squash. I really looked the part in David B's Fred Perry shorts and shirt, and I could see just how much Sarah was taken by my legs. Woman usually are, you know. We bashed about for about forty minutes and I really quite enjoyed the 'incident'. I didn't do too badly, either. Naturally, I didn't win, but Sarah had every confidence in my eager and forthright attitude. I fancy her.

From here we went with Marilyn (Wheeler) to the Damn Yankee and then to the Regent at Chapel Allerton. The food was good and M told hilarious tales of _________ prostitution activities. _____ By all accounts is 'no good in bed'. We laughed a good deal.

The Regent was hideous. So many people, and so overpowering. A friend of Marilyn's bought me two drinks and wouldn't let me get him one in return. He's going to China next week forever and I'll never be able to repay his kindness. I understand now why _______ inhabits this joint. If a strange man is prepared to buy me drinks, just what are they doing for ______? Eh? Know what I mean? Wink, wink.

Sarah brought me home and I wanted to drag her in the back of the car and show her a thing or two, but for some reason I just said 'good night' and watched her drive off.  ________.

-=-

Saturday August 27, 1977

Stuart (Newton) and Christine (White) were married at St John's (church), Yeadon, at 2pm. We only just made it to the ceremony after a somewhat farcical chase across Aireborough, and our arrival at the church coincided with that of the bridesmaids and other important personages.

Stuart & Christine

Sue, Pete N and I sat with Messers Ratcliffe and Mather, and Lynn and Dave B sat warbling behind. Christine looked very nice, Stuart looked petrified. A horrible sight to see a man so frightened. We needed a 'Scarlet Pimpernel' figure to perhaps come and rescue him.

The reception at the Colours Restaurant at Horsforth went off brilliantly. Home at about 7pm nicely stewed. David G arrived at Pine Tops just as we got in. His Ibiza pictures are incredible. Martyn joined us at 9 and we went back to Horsforth to continue the festivities, the happy couple having left for Scarborough some hours previously. More drink in larger quantities. Mrs White is a darling and I gave her a large kiss on leaving. Chatted with Linda and Andy. Very congenial.

Took Martyn to Ilkley and then entertained Dave G to 'home brew' until some ridiculous hour of the morning. Why do we do such things? Agreed, it's my Plantagenet nature peeping through from the depths of the Middle Ages. Edward III liked the occasional beer, you know.

-=-

Wednesday February 2, 1977

Forgive my use of the biro, but once again I have mislaid my fountain pen. It'll turn up. A rotten day. On the way to the YP with Jim I see, with horror, CB slumped in her wrecked car half way across New Road Side (Horsforth) surrounded by blood stained rescuers and salvage equipment. What can have happened?

Miss Rushworth

Judith rings to say she's actually ill and has to miss tonight's 'Pink Panther' spectacular. Are we jinxed or something? I know all about 'true love finding a way' but I think we've well and truly stopped it in its tracks this time. What's your opinion anyway of two-timers? Please do not forget I am only 22 and have never done it before. Blimey, some people do worse things. Look at the Black Panther for instance. Should I break with Lynne altogether? Come on, you lot out there. Can't you see I need some help? For God's Sake Help me someone!

-==-

Friday January 28, 1977

Meet Miss Denise Akroyd outside the YP at 1pm and we go over to the Central and meet Marita who buys us both a pint of lager in honour of her twenty second birthday tomorrow. D and I sit until 2.30 and discuss a few controversial topics including Mr_________.She makes it all sound like Wuthering Heights. A good girl. We plan to have an orgy at her place on February 11.

Back to the YP. Ring Lynne and connect her to Stephanie Ferguson so she can enquire about the Burley-in-Wharfedale residence. Lynne is cheesed off buggering about between Thornton-le-Dale & Roundhay. Quite understandable I think.

Meanwhile: 8 o'clock,  the two of us head to the (Horsforth) Leisure Centre where we attempt to watch the squash finals. Sarah and Peter (Baker) are in foul moods, and after battling though dinner of yet another chicken leg and frozen peas I'd had just about enough. Sarah sobbing all over the dinner table didn't do much to improve the atmosphere. Lynne and I cleared off as soon as it was decently possible to Oakwood Hall, where another 'mortuary atmosphere' prevailed. Peter & Dave Lazenby, Miss Akroyd and Michelle are romping around to old Showaddywaddy singles, &c. Need I say more?

-==-

Wednesday October 27, 1976

To the Black .... Oh Sod it! Start again. To the Brown Cow in Horsforth at 8.15 with good old David L and eventually Marita, who arrives at 9.30, or so. Haven't seen David for months, and by all accounts the going is hard. He's returning to Gloucester on Friday in order to construct a duck pond, or something. A great chap is Dave. Marita is her usual self. Always on about old times but ________________.
Aren't I a bitter, twisted old git? Must be the influence of Lynne. Somehow I don't think Marita likes her at all. On arriving tonight she enquired: "Oh, how's whats her name ... Princess Anne .. getting on?" She refused even to say Lynne's name.

Home at 11 o'clock and watch the David Frost/Sir Harold Wilson quiz. I quite like Sir Harold even if he is a damned socialist. He's better than the current incumbent of 10, Downing Street, anyway. Audrey Callaghan is a nice bit of stuff though. Her tits! - Cor!! Jim sure knew what he was doing when he got her knickers off. Here endeth the crude, nasty bits for today.

-==-

Friday July 4, 1975

Independence Day, USA. Don't worry. It's now a beautiful Sunday afternoon, and I'm sat on the lawn in a stone cold sober fashion. However, it does say Friday at the top of the page, so I won't mess about any longer. Here goes: I met Sarah on the bus at 7.30, and we had to meet Carol on Broadgate Lane. We decided not to bother about the Fleece, which is too far down the road, and so we started off in the Stanhope - a tatty looking place by anyone's standards. We got off on the right footing, and I had a pint of cider, Sarah had half of cider, and Carol half of lager. Sarah was the epitome of loveliness as usual, and we continued in this pattern of alcoholic consumption in the King's Arms, Black Bull, Brown Cow, Grey Horse and the Queen's Arms. Carol and I varied it a bit in the Brown Cow by having Stella Artois, and then in the Queen's I had a whisky, and Sarah a gin, because they'd run out of cider. After the Queen's I remember very little in order. Sarah and I staggered up to her place, and I definately remember falling over once. I also remember telling Sarah that I loved her, and that was why I worked 'at that bloody place'. She bundled me onto a bus, but two stops further on I climbed off and tried to find her, but arrived instead on the main road. Luckily, or so I thought, I got a lift to Guiseley, but unluckily, the driver was homosexual, and he put his hands on me. Punches were exchanged, and I climbed out of the car. Ghastly, I know. But what can you do about a thing like that? Got home at 12.30, and then walked down to Wikis. Lynn and David were in, and I fell flat on the floor in drunkenness. A fantastic evening though, and I hope Sarah won't be offended by anything I've said to her. I meant it all, anyway.

-=-

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 June 24, 1975

I know it's naughty of me, but it's now a week since I laid pen on this diary, and even me, the genius that I am, cannot possibly recall totally what actually occurred on June 24, 1975. However, you will, no doubt, be interested to know that Sarah, Mrs Johnson and I are 'doing Town Street' on Friday. When I say 'doing Town Street' I really mean to say 'doing a pub crawl down Town Street', which means exactly the same thing, but the former covers up a good deal of what actually is going on, if you follow my meaning. Oh, shut up, Michael.

--==--

Saturday May 17, 1975

Hilarious day. Mum got me out of bed at 12 to accomapny her to Morrison's for the weekly pile of nosh and general necessities. In unbearable heat we chase about the shop for the best part of an hour, picking Sue up at the hairdressers on the way home.

A 2pm Gillian comes round with 'Diamond Dogs' by Bowie, and after half an hour the two of us decide to pay a call on Chris, who is messing about with his guttering (roof guttering and all that) with the aid and assistance of John of course. After messing about on a couple of buses Gillian and I arrive at Horsforth at about 2.30 to discover Mrs Ratcliffe pottering around in the rubble of what was once 21, Victoria Drive. She was all covered in paint saying things like: 'Oh, Chris and John disappeared half an hour ago down Town Street'. We sat about waiting for the two workers to return and when they do we follow them outside and clown about on the lawn, eating ice lollipops and making foolery and merriment. John dangling about at the top of a ladder just didn't look safe, and Gillian felt quite sickly just watching him. Home at about 6 in a mild drizzle to have tea.

Mum and Dad are at Leeds General Infirmary visiting Auntie Mabel, and therefore I make the tea consisting of fish fingers and peas. Very nice too, although I say it myself.

Out to the Hare & Hounds at about 8 and Gillian more or less tags onto me for the night. After a disagreement in the Malt Shovel, Burley-in-Wharfedale, the happy family splits up and Laura takes her mob to Ilkley and John, Gillian, Christine Dibb and I go to the White Horse in Burley to see Cousin Dorothy. We leave at about 11.10 after exchanging reminiscences with Dorothy. Played dominos for the first time in years.

-=-

Saturday May 3, 1975

John wakes me at about 11.30 and I feel quite rotten again. Headache and sore throat. On making enquiries I discover that we're all the same in the house. John, in the car, departs in the direction of Horsforth. He's going to Chris's then down to Charlie Brown's for some car tyres or something.

I do most of the housework. (Just thought I'd slip that in, and I'd like to make it quite clear that I'm proud of it. Men who can't do the ordinary household chores are pathetic). Play a few records but feel as though my head is about to explode.Mum and Dad come back from Bradford and they say they feel the same. Mum kept saying that we might have a gas leak or something, but surely if this was the case we'd all be unconscious or dead?

This evening was one of the most nasty, uncomfortable affairs I've ever really experienced. To start with, John went to collect his idol ___ and he was persuaded to call in at the revolting Station 'just for a quick one'. I had a pint of Guinness which ruined my evening because it stuck in the pit of my stomach like three tons of reinforced concrete. After collecting Linda, Carol and Miss Dibb we made our way to the Devonshire Arms near Bolton Abbey - a most hideous tavern, full of old clapped-out idiots in tweed trousers. From then on things went down hill and the gang ended up in Burnsall. I was with Lynn and Dave and noticed the horror on Mr Baker's face at the mileage we were doing. When petrol is 70p a gallon I couldn't agree more with him. Never again.


==--==

Sunday February 16, 1975

1st in Lent. Wake up on Gillian's floor at about 8.30 feeling obnoxiously cold and uncomfortable. Marian is underneath her coat next to me, and the faithful, flimsy scarfe is draped between us - the only link between us. Like an umbilical cord. Up at about 9 and we sit huddled around a gas fire. To my surprise I see that Denby and Co have gone off in the van without me. Filthy sods. My jacket was in the van and I now have no other clothing in which to venture forth on the great, perilous journey home.

Walk into Headingley, about a mile in all, then hitch a lift to Horsforth. Call in at Marian's for breakfast. A nice family - especially the mother who is quite a joker. It begins to snow, and so Mrs Read loans me the use of her son's coat for the second part of my journey. Arrange to see Marian sometime next week.

Home at 11.00. The clan are just getting up, and I join Mum for breakfast. Dad was stoned out of his mind last night at a dinner-dance in Ilkley. Dave B and John had to carry him upstairs and dump him on the bed. He was too drunken even to speak. Mum was quiet at first but laughed herself silly about it later.

Don't go out in the evening. See Richard Burton and Peter O'Toole in 'Becket' on ITV, and stagger to bed at 10.15. Tired and shagged out beyond description.

-==-

Saturday December 28, 1974

Death of Mary II, 1694. Feeling quite well, which is unusual for Saturday mornings. Lynn and I sit listening to the radio until 8.0am. This John Stonehouse case is a right bloody fiasco. It makes one wonder just how many other vice-ridden, corrupt sods flock each day to the Palace of Westminster to help govern this nation of ours. It's a nasty embarrassment for 'Uncle' Harold and his so-called Labour party.

Work until 3.30 when I decide to pack up and go. I was only half an hour early - no catastrophe.
John, Sheila and cousin Valerie came after tea, and John and I only had a few minutes with them before departing for Horsforth. The Ratcliffe party commences in the evening and is a tremendous success. The clan meet in the Fleece, a nice little ale house which we rarely visit throughout the drinking year. See June. We don't speak. Miss Bottomley fails to excite my emotions like she did once upon a time.

The party is underway by 10.30 and goes on until 11 the following morning. I can't remember much about the occasion at all, though I do recall a certain enjoyable experience with Christine Braithwaite. I gradually drank myself into a state of semi-consciousness & Denny was the only one who came to my aid. We walked all over Horsforth together and I felt much better afterwards. Home with Lynn, David, Christine Dibb and Denny at 4am.

-==-

Monday August 5, 1974

Funny day at the YP. 'Ann' the office girl sends me a note and I almost answer it in a very rude fashion but I hear from Carol Johnson, via her husband, that it is all a joke.

Sit watching tv until 8.30 when Marita rings. She is bored being on her own and I admit that I had forgotten all about her. I say I'll help decorate tomorrow straight from work. Makes a change anyway. She says she'll pick John and I up in half an hour's time to go for a drink. The three of us go to the Grey Horse on Town Street at Horsforth. Tremendous time had by all reminiscing over last years events. I argue with Marita about the night we went to the Cow and Calf and I put her off eating her hamburger by saying it was made from sheep dung collected whilst still warm from Ilkley Moor. We only have two drinks and rush back to Pine Tops in order to read last years diary and settle some arguments. Sit with the '73 journal and coffee until 12.30. Lovely evening. Marita goes home still unaware of the date when she finished, or I should say he (Chris) finished, with her. Sit in bed and at about 1 I discover that Chris and Marita finished on October 15. Most enjoyable night I've had for ages (not counting Saturday night of course).

-==-

Thursday December 27, 1973

I wonder if Sue Riley's given birth yet? When I pass the CW on the bus I see no sign of life and therefore pressume that the poor girl is in the clinic suffering the rigours of childbirth. The little blighter is already four days late. Discussing this with Mother she says I came on the exact appointed day; John should have been born on September 22; Lynn was six days late and I think she said Susan was early.

Rushed home from the YP in order to prepare for this so-called party in Horsforth. Hell, what a total disaster the evening was. Arrive at the house at 8.30. And from the start Helen Taylor thinks that she has me hooked. After 90 minutes of wandering around the streets of misty Horsforth - past June's house - I tell it's no good us starting anything permanent. I admit to her that June is still the only girl in my life. She begins to cry outside Diane Rushworth's house in Horsforth and I make a hurried departure. I do so hate upsetting these females, but what else can I possibly do?

Pam Barlow rang to invite me to Judith Lea's party on Saturday - I refuse, using Chris as an excuse. Helen also asked me to go to the same party - not knowing that Pamela is also after me too. Generally an intolerable evening.

-==-