Friday June 16, 1978

Jacq had a party at the YWCA in honour of a party of Frogs who were passing through Leeds. I went straight round to her place from the YP and she washed my hair and gave me a clean shirt in her little room. Her room-mate is enormous ~ like a pregnant Indian elephant, or whichever type of elephant is the largest.

A couple of Greeks, a Scot and a Welshman joined us at the George tavern opposite the Infirmary where we made merry until closing time. The pub landlady resembles Hylda Baker.

Back at the YWCA I met Coun Mrs May Sexton, the principal or governor, or whatever they call 'em. She told me she would like to see capital punishment restored. So do I. It was a good, humorous party with loud pulsating music and sandwiches. We danced all night. At 4am I helped clear the devastation and at dawn I hitch-hiked home, completing the journey in a couple of hours.

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Sunday April 9, 1978

2nd after Easter.

More people (came) to view the house. Susan and I giggled like schoolgirls at the people tramping round poor Pine Tops as though it was Chatsworth.

Ernest called in to sup ale with us, and Jacq arrived at 12 noon from the YWCA, wearing a black woolly jumper inherited from her late step-father, Peter Holroyd, Esq.

We all took alcohol together and watched an ancient film on the BBC featuring Marilyn Monroe: "The Seven Year Itch". Lynn and David returned from their adventures at Lawn Road and we dined (inc Jacq) on roast beef and Yorkshire pudding. Poor Jacq ate well. I fear she starves herself at that place (YWCA). Susan and Peter were unavoidably detained at Granny (Florence) Nason's 80th birthday party.



Jacq and I really get on like a house on fire. Read a bit of Toland's 'Adolf Hitler'.

Saw Hylda Baker in a ghastly film at 8 and at 10 I escorted Jacq to her bus (in soaking, rainy conditions). Dear Mama packed her off with a pork chop to eat in the near future (not raw on the bus home I hope).

Jacq and I howled with laughter when Mum's old, see-through, yellow plastic umbrella collapsed.

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Wednesday October 19, 1977

Mist and rain. A grotty day indeed. Sarah, John McMurray and I went to the library together. Sarah disappeared into the art section, John into music, and I buggered about in the biographical works and in fiction.

John laughed when I told him that the first book I borrowed from a library (aged 11) was 'Queen Mary' by Pope-Hennessy. He told me he knew a guy who lived with Mr Pope-Hennessy, who was of course a leading homosexual. The author was stabbed to death by a fellow flat-mate about three years ago.

Norman Scott.

On the subject of homosexuals the Jeremy Thorpe/Norman Scott Affair is back in the news. It now transpires that a 'prominent' member of the Liberal party payed a young man to shoot Mr Scott. It is for poor Marion Thorpe that I feel great sympathy. From Harewood House to the gutter in ten years. ________________.

Marion Thorpe.

John Grady phoned. He was very excited. He told me that Hylda Baker lives in Bolton. I told him I'd phone Granada TV tomorrow to get some information about her for him. He really is obsessed with dearest Hylda and I cannot help blaming myself. John Grady was once a normal lad without a care in the world.

Saw part III of 'The Norman Conquests' and Lynn and Dave came to talk about churches, flowers and big wedding cars.









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Tuesday September 13, 1977

Jacqui.

Jacqui phoned today and said she and Joy are coming up on September 23 for the weekend. They are staying at a flat in Leeds and she suggests we go out for a couple of nights on the town. I say it's a great idea and we had a pleasant chat about it. However, John (Grady) phoned from Rossendale this evening and said next weekend wouldn't be suitable for our visit to Lancashire, and could we make it the weekend after instead? All would have been fine but what about Jacqui coming from deepest Muswell Hill? John is undeterred and says she's only after my Hylda Baker body. We laughed. I think of Dave G. He'll never be able to get Sept 17 off. Oh God, I'm fed up with all this muddled arranging. John also said Noel would be free to join us on Sept 24 because he's going away with his fiance next weekend. We'll sort something out and I'll contact Jacqui tomorrow.

Tonight I sat and worked out the number of people descended from my grandparents John Wilson and Levinyer Wood. You may think it a silly thing to do but I'm interested. They have 35 descendants, 17 of them male; 18 female. They are all living too. They range from 58 years to one week old. I was the eighth grandchild and fifteenth descendant, and sixth grandson. Only 10 of the descendants bear the name Wilson today. The other 25 are Harwoods, Myers, Gadsbys, Williams, &c. They don't have as many descendants as King Edward III, but they haven't had the amount of time he's had. A proper little statistician aren't I?

Retired to bed at midnight.

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Saturday August 13, 1977

Yes, I definitely feel quite good about Mary. In fact I haven't had such a good time for a very long time. Out to Baildon again tonight with Tony and Martyn but don't see any crumpet worth collecting for yet another Brotherwood party. Moved on to Hare & Hounds at Heaton where we met Wendy and Anne and a couple of anonymous ladies from Smith's. Wendy is the perfect Hylda Baker. John Grady should have been here to see her.

The Sand Dance...

Returned to Ilkley with the anonymous shop assistants. A successful party. I drink Pernod & orange. Joke all night with the girls. I taught them the Egyptian sand-dance, immortalised by Wilson, Keppel and Betty in the 1940s. At about 6 Wendy, Anne, the two shop assistants, Martyn and I got into Tony's bed. He was shouting about something and banging around in the flat whilst the ladies removed me from my jeans, or in the words of Wendy, my 'clouts'. It must have been about 6.30am.





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Friday June 4, 1976

Christopher's 21st, but of course he's celebrating tomorrow night. Hear from Mum that John and Maria are staying with C for the weekend to help him arrange the party. Maria is cooking, cleaning and messing about in general. Six months pregnant too.

Eileen and I went over to the Central at lunchtime. __________________. I emerged after consuming two pints of lager a thoroughly bored young man.

Have a nasty argument with Mum at tea time and set out to Bradford at 6.30. Tony is driving up the lane and we meet half way. In Bradford for 7 o'clock and have a quick drink in the 'Painted Wagon' before meeting Sarah, Carol J, and Marilyn outside the Alhambra at 7.15. Horror of Horrors! On entering the theatre we are confronted by a terrible and nauseating poster. It's an announcement to the effect that Hylda Baker has been taken ill and will not be appearing. What's more we cannot get our money back! Not more than 20 other people were assembled in the theatre and after the first act of the play (also starring Valentine Dyall) we, all five of us that is, dashed off to Leeds and the Flying Pizza.

Sarah felt ill and couldn't eat anything and I blamed the intolerable heat of the place. Even I, Michael the Icebox, had to remove my jacket after the first course. A massive bottle of wine was consumed and by 10 o'clock we were heading back to Bradford to see 'All the President's Men' at the ABC. A boring film and darling Sarah fell asleep on my shoulder. I think I have always been greatly attracted to her. She is so sweet and appealing.

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Thursday June 3, 1976

Tony rings to say he's got the tickets for Hylda Baker tomorrow evening. £1.50 a piece. He was coming up tonight to watch Monty Python but he's having car trouble and won't be able to make it now.

Lynn and Susan are out this evening and so it's just me, Mum & Dad watching TV. Feel unusually tired, and by 11 o'clock my eyes are packing in for the night.

King George V is 111 today. No doubt he'll be celebrating quietly somewhere with Queen Mary. It's also the 39th wedding anniversary of the poor old Duchess of Windsor. Saw in the Express last week that she is more or less a recluse now and lives under the surveilance of half a dozen nurses. Poor Old Queen Wallis. Will they let her be buried over here? Nothing else to report.

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Wednesday June 2, 1976

Have a hysterical day at the office. Arrange with Sarah and Carol to go see Hylda Baker at the Bradford Alhambra on Friday night. Marilyn wants to go too. Can't wait. Hylda is my favourite comedienne. It also means I can escape from the bloody Friday night rut I seem to be wedged in at the moment. Since I dissolved my relationship with Carole the Hare & Hounds has lost its attraction.

Stuart comes up at 8 o'clock and we go to Tony's place off Manningham Lane, Bradford. The poor sod pays £7 a week for a revolting bed-sit in the heart of Mecca with virtually no white men, or women for that matter, within a 50 mile radius. However, he is moving out next week & so he seems cheerful.

We have a drink in the Commercial and then another in the Chevin Inn, which is incredibly snobbish. Go to the Hare at 9.30 and Denise comes in with Carole. I shudder at the sight of her and the more I see of her the more I think she is unbalanced. Her eyes are so lifeless. Tony buys them both drinks.

Back to Tony's for coffee and home after midnight. Mum says John was round tonight.

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