Friday December 5, 1975

Woke up with a hangover this morning and devoured a whole family-sized tin of peaches for breakfast whilst Lynn looked on aghast.

Down to Leeds with Jim and sit in a heap saying absolutely nothing. I didn't have the strength yo utter a single sylable (I've spelt that last word wrong, but it's a word I can never manage).

I can't go on much longer with this bloody diary. It's becoming something of a bind because I'm always about five days behind and it means all my free time is spent scribing away. I've been doing this for just about three years now and I quite understand if you don't want to go on reading. I must be an awfully boring diarist. Perhaps if Leeds were to be destroyed by a Great Fire or Lynn was to marry the Prince of Wales I'd have something less mundane to record. Unfortunately, both these possible occurrences do seem more than slightly far fetched.

Linda's party tonight. Carole, CD and I go to the Lister's Arms on the bus. We meet Linda and Andy, who aren't all that talkative, and see little Helen Willis working behind the bar. All the mob arrive and we go to the social event of Ilkley's calendar.

It's a bit of a flop really. I behaved in a bit of a semi-pornographic fashion with Christine White. Andy and I ended up yelling abuse at each other, and I crammed a handful of freshly cut lemon slices into his yapping mouth. Lynn was unconscious, and John threw up all over my suit (he was wearing it). We came home in a mini-bus at 1.30 and I vomited half an hour later. Carole stayed with the girls in their boudoir. Poor Dave and Peter had to suffer on the floor in the lounge.

-==-

Wednesday December 3, 1975

The weather was a bit improved today. Basil, the postman, had to admit the the sunrise was one of the best he's ever seen.

I propelled myself in a Leeds direction by train this morning. Jim Rawnsley must have died or something because I haven't laid eyes on him since Friday. Not to worry. He was old anyway.

I met Douglas, from next door, at the station and remind him of our boozing date at 1 o'clock. He says he'll come, but doesn't look all that certain.

Meet Dave outside the Ostlers at 1 o'clock and he says that Douglas isn't coming. After one drink we decide to go round the shops and look for Lynn's present. Dave kept drifting towards windows full of engagement rings, and I kept having to bring the poor lad back to his senses. However, when the day eventually dawns when he and Lynn want to make fools of themselves at the altar I certainly won't haul him away from the ring shops because he will make a good brother-in-law. Do I hear wedding bells? (I know you're all bloody sick of me throwing in that cliche, so why don't any of you have the guts to admit it?)

At home tonight I busy myself industriously. Press trousers by the score and take up the hem (of a pair of trousers). Carole rang at least three times (bless her) and I am disturbed to hear that her brother has hit her and given her a bruising. The swine will feel the full weight of my fist in his throat if he does so much as raise his fist in her direction again. These 16 year-old adolescents want watching good and proper.

I sit down and watch the 10 o'clock news on ITV which is appallingly done (or is it apallingly?) It was badly done anyway. It may sound snobbish and 'Olde Worlde' but it takes a lot to beat the good old BBC. I could read the news better than Reginald Bosanquet and Sandy Gall put together, and in saying that I'm insulting myself really. John Snagge would turn in his grave if he were dead.


-==-

Wednesday November 26, 1975

A wet day again. To Leeds with Jim Rawnsley. He says that in ten years time we'll be in the same situation with Scotland as we are with Ireland now. I shudder with horror. The Irish Republic Army attacking from the right, the Scottish Republicans from top, and the Welsh Nationalists from below the knees. What will become of us all?

The Scots will keep all the North Sea Oil for themselves, and England's economic future will be non-existent. The Financial Times will have to close down due to lack of business, &c.

Carol J and I go down to photographic to look at the negs of yesterdays Royal Visit. We see at least three negs with us with the duchess, and order them. I'll have them enlarged and glued on my bedroom wall.


-==-

Thursday November 13, 1975

A cold, crisp, typical autumn morn. To Leeds with Jim. I don't know what I'll do when the day dawns when I find myself Jim Rawnsleyless. The man has been like a chauffeur to me for the best part of three years, and the thought of actually driving myself to work or catching a revolting bus is too bad a thing to even be considered. They don't make good servants like him anymore, you know. They are a dying breed and the world will be a less happier place when they are no more.

Finish at 12. Christine B rings. She's working in Leeds until the end of the month and says we'll have to meet one lunchtime for a pub crawl. I let out a burst of hideous, nervous laughter when she says she and Philip are meeting this lunchtime for summit talks. It will be a year since she finished with him on Boxing Day, but if Elizabeth Taylor can tie the knot once more with Richard Burton I fail to see why they cannot. CD said something was afoot, and I now know what she meant. CB also came out with some unkind remarks about her latest attachment. From what I saw of him last night he did not seem all that formidable, and if anything he struck me as being a cheerful, decent chap. She is seeing him for the last time on Saturday, but I can't help thinking she's making a mistake.

I go into the town centre and drift about wondering what to buy for Carole's 18th birthday next week. I espy a locket in a jewellers window and immediately purchase it. John's given me the money to get her 'Atlantic Crossing' the Rod Stewart LP and I have no trouble getting that either.

Home in the bright sun at 2.15. See in the papers that poor Princess Anne is laid up at Oak Grove with influenza. Tomorrow will be her second wedding anniversary and still we wait anxiously for signs that the marriage has been consumated. It's all very well for Mark Phillips to persue his career in the army, but his first duty must be to secure the throne and give the Queen her first grandchild so to take her mind off the Australian constitutional crisis.

I have no lunch and sit doing absolutely nothing at all. (Well,if you must know I've spent nearly two and a half hours filling in this diary properly).

Carole rings at 4.15 and guesses that I've bought her a locket straight away but when I say "Ah, but what sort of locket?" She replies immediately "a silver one". Dead right, she is, and I'll have to buy something else now for a surprise.

We meet at 8.30 and go to the Hare with John. Maria is at her piano teachers place playing, and so he's quite free and unattached tonight. We buy each other pernod and oranges and have a few lagers too. By 10.30 we are a bit popped up.

Haircut day for Carole on Saturday and she's worried sick by it. I tell her not to be daft. Vidal Sassoon won't make a complete bugger of it.

-==-

Tuesday November 4, 1975

Out of bed quite late, and just manage to get my lift to work with Jim. Work is uneventful and I manage to get finished for about 1 o'clock. All the girls are becoming bitchy of late, and Carol J seems to be the main object of attack. Sarah is commander-in-chief of the victorious force, and her sharp tongue gives her side the moral boost it requires to succeed. (Don't I talk a load of rubbish?)

Home at 5.15 to get a letter from dear Carole. She apologises for appearing to be too possessive and says I can talk to CB for as long as I wish and she won't mind. Good of her. Bless her. She'd do anything to make me happy.________.

I have decided to stop visiting the Hare like I am doing at present. If Carole and I are going to get along happily we are going to have to have more time on our own. And strangely enough, I am happier when I am alone with her than when we are both in a crowd. It must be love, because I have never been one to desert the happy family.
June and I were always alone, but she was wary of other human beings. Anyhow, I'm sick of doing the same old things. It should be fun exploring new pubs and the un-navigated regions of deepest Yorkshire, with no one but my best girl by my side. Like Stanley, Livingstone and Edmund Hillary, I may go down in history books as the first man to conquer the Chevin Inn, or maybe the Royalty further up the road.

Carole rang at 7.30,and I spent most of the night sorting all my letters into date order. Saw a play on TV which is excellent for a change, and saw the news about eight times.

Don't think for one moment that I'm going to mention Franco because I aren't.

-==-

Tuesday October 28, 1975

Lynn wakes me from my slumbers at 7am. The day is a beautiful one. It is in Guiseley anyway, but things soon change when travelling to work with Jim. Passing through Horsforth we become shrouded in fog, which grows steadily more dense as we go into Leeds. The temperature falls too, and one would think Guiseley is on the French Riviera or somewhere equally tropical. (Yes, I am aware that France isn't tropical, but my description isn't meant to be taken literally).

At 4.30 I failed to get a bus home and so I walked to the West Yorkshire bus station and got the 5 o'clock 33. At Guiseley I find myself walking up home in the dark for the first time this year. I do not object to coming home in darkness, but I detest have to eat breakfast and contemplate a days work when the moon is shining and it's black as Hell at 7am.

Over tea Mum and Dad tell me about the Craven Heifer. They thought it was a bit scruffy upstairs______.They did like it though, and are optimistic about the bank financing them with the necessary cash. If they do get it we won't be moving in until February next year, so we shall have yet another Christmas at good old Pine Tops. All this waiting around and speculating about the future isn't doing me any good. I'll be a nervous wreck before I'm 21.

I rang Carole at a Menston phone box at 6.30 and we chatted for ten minutes or so. She didn't have much to say other than the fact she's bought four packs of potato crisps to eat whilst she watches a James Bond film on TV tonight.

John and Maria arrived home safely this afternoon, but as yet I haven't seen either of them. After having a coffee with Mum and Dad they went to her place where they remain unrtil this very minute. I'll report on how things went in Shrewsbury tomorrow.

Items of news: I'm saying nothing about General Franco or Juan Carlos. That matter will drag on for years yet. And the Prince of Wales's car accident in Norfolk did not injure anyone seriously, you'll be pleased to hear. HRH seems prone to road accidents.


-==-

Wednesday October 22, 1975

Up at 7.30 and dash around like something not right for half an hour. As usual it is to Leeds with Jim. Nothing scandalous or anything in the office at the moment so I'll narate something else instead.

I will have to start sorting out my vast collection of letters and other items of nostalgia. Drawers and cupboards in my room are packed with them. Letters from June Bottomley, Christine, Judith, Carole and Dave Lawson are just about taking over the upper part of 58, Hawksworth Lane, and certain indelicate subjects raised in Carole's latest despatch make me somewhat edgy.____________.

After tea we sit in front of the television. 'Carry On Doctor' gives everyone a laugh. I always watch these films with the intention of passing sentence of death upon them, but end up bent double with galloping hysterics.

At 8.10 John and I get in the car but it won't start. In a torrent of abuse I hurry down the lane only to miss the bus and find myself walking all the way to Carole's. I meet her with Mrs P coming out of Oakridge Avenue and I get the impression they had given me up for dead. Mrs P winds her way to Highroyds and Miss Phillips and I nip into the Hare. It is boring in the Hare tonight. After a rum with a few Coca Colas we go back to Carole's for yet another drink. At 11.15 I miss yet another bus and walk home yet again.

-==-

Tuesday October 7, 1975

A crisp, autumnal day. Cooler than yesterday but the sun seemed a good deal brighter. To Leeds with Jim Rawnsley, who takes up a new appointment next week. It is rumoured that he'll be earning £12,000 per year - and he tells me he can hardly afford a new pair of shoes!

Nothing spectacular in the news. The Prince of Wales is to become a naval captain in January. He'll have command of his own ship and operate in the North Sea. Prince Philip was a captain in the RN, and so too was George VI, George V and a score of other monarchs. The "Sailor King" is a title held above all others I think. We might have a revolution if the day ever dawns when the heir to the throne is a wing commander or brigadier in the army.

I rang Carole this afternoon and she said she felt ill again. The poor creature will never see 20 if she continues at this rate. However, she says she'll come out with me tomorrow night if it's the last thing she does. I shall have to go down to Menston to see if she's quite fit before hand.

Today I wrote to John and Sheila asking about whether I can go down and stay with them a week on Thursday. Peter M is going down to Hayes (Middx) to stay with Christopher for a few days, and so we might as well go together. Windsor is such a fantastic place too, and it's over a year since I was there. Going down on the 16th will also enable us to visit the Motor Show at Earls Court. I hope that John will find no fault in my going on those dates. He always seems to enjoy my going, and by writing as opposed to phoning I think it doesn't put him on the spot. He will have time to consider my letter, whereas ringing him would have had to produce an immediate response. I also wrote to Chris informing him of my intended state visit._______.

-==-

Tuesday July 22, 1975

Up at 7.55 feeling grotty. Having a birthday celebration on a Monday night isn't the wisest thing to do at all really.

To Leeds with Jim as usual, and work like hell all day. Some days I feel uncommunicative and doing piles of work is an alternative to chatting up Sarah and chasing her round the office.

Feel blocked up and stifled, and not looking forward to the jab I'll be receiving later on this week. John should be collecting the stuff from the chemists tonight, and so the doctor will be giving us the needle within a few days. Ah well, I suppose it's better than coming home from holiday and dropping down dead with typhoid.

I forgot to mention it, but Chris rang on Sunday from London saying he was having an injection too. Poor sod, I think he's very lonely down there.

Home in the rain at 5.30 and have tea. Sue began working full-time today at the hairdressers where she's been part-time for years.I can imagine her with a salon of her own in a few yaesr time. Just think, all the six of us employed people now. No more schoolchildren in the clan until grandchildren start rolling in.

Carole rings at 6.30 and I say I'll see her in the Hare at 8.30 tomorrow. Also meeting Christine B tomorrow night and probably Dave L too. I have no money but don't think for one minute that I'm going to let that get in my way. No, I don't do too badly really.

-==-

Wednesday April 16, 1975

Don't expect much today because you'll be very disappointed. You see, John is alseep in bed, and it's quite late at night and the brightness of the electric lighting in the room is disturbing his slumbers somewhat. Anyway, to recap on the days events: Saw June briefly this morning as Jim drove me to Leeds- just a very, very brief glimpse because we rocketed past her at about 60 mph. However, brief it may have been, but my poor little heart almost didn't withstand the excitement. From Horsforth to the far-flung reaches of Kirkstall I travelled with it (my heart) in my mouth.

Later the same day: John deposits me in the Hare and Hounds and then takes Chris and Naomi to Bradford where Gillian is propping up a bar. (Did you know that Chris and Gillian are, as they say, 'going out'?) You know now anyway. I was left with Helen Lockyer in her Pa's car I might add, Miss C. Smith and Mr A Graham. Reluctantly I'm dragged off to the Station on Henshaw Lane. Philip Knowles comes in with a blond chick and leaves after supping only half a bitter. Denis Healey must have gone to his head or something. Half a bitter! Yuk!

-==-

Monday April 7, 1975

Back to the old routine. Up at about 7.30 and sit with Lynn over a cup of tea. Mummy didn't wish to emerge for the morning ritual of pretending to enjoy ones cornflakes and shrivelled bit of toast.

With Jim Rawnsley to Leeds. Eileen arrives at 8.30 with an engagement ring firmly secured to her finger. She gives me a cock and bull story about not really being engaged until July, but I fail to grasp the point. After all, what is the reasoning behind getting engaged to get engaged? Bloody nonsense it all is.

Go into town at lunchtime and get a card for Helen's celebratory event tomorrow. Twenty-one the poor soul is. She was so bloody pissed on Saturday I doubt very much whether she'll be recovered as yet.

Praise be to God!! Chris had official confirmation of our holiday on Saturday! It is quite sealed after all. I harboured doubts in the back of my mind that something would go wrong along the way, but feel quite satisfied now.

Haven't heard from Christine since the traumatic experience she undoubtedly went through on Saturday night. I wonder what reaction she'll give me? Her excuse the other night was that she was too drunk and too shocked to take any of it in.

Ring Marita and say I'm sending her a massive memoranda about all the references I've ever made about her in my diary since 1973. She's on the verge of hysteria at the end of the conversation. What a girl she is!

-==-

Thursday March 6, 1975

Lynn is 17 and it's pay day which is quite convenient considering. Up at 7.30 and dash off to work - no Jim Rawnsley. He's been in Eastbourne all week, so the bus is the final resort.

I go out at lunchtime in what looks like a flood to get Lynn a card. Don't intend buying a present because she always prefers money, but a box of chocolates caught my eye. In the end she got the chocolates and the money.

A letter awaits me from Twickenham. My heart pounds with the excitement of it! I know it's nearly Spring and all that, but I do feel peculiar when her name is mentioned. Love. It's like the first pangs of adolescence all over again. Marriage, six kids and a mortgage as long as my arm are the only possible results of the passionate feelings towards the gorgeous, temporary inhabitant of Twickenham - but it really is nice.

John is at college until 8. So when Mum, Dad, Lynn, Dave, Sue and Peter decide to go for a meal and I am half persuaded, but considering the financial side I change my mind. They all get in at about 1am slightly stoned, and a photographic session follows, in which I take an active part. Lynn in Mum's coat and specs, and Dave in a policeman's helmet. Quite a laugh. Bed at 2am after a glass of champagne with a bit of fizz.

-==-

Monday February 24, 1975

More bloody fog all day. Creep to the YP with Jim in the car, bumper to bumper all the way. See in the papers that Uncle Harold is to make a statement in the Commons today about the 'Royal shares' leakage. On the 6 o'clock news tonight Harold says the reports in the Morning Star are true, and Scotland Yard are looking into the whole affair. Some filthy swine has obviously waited until the Civil List is about to be debated before dropping this bombshell. Many MPs want to know how we can possibly justify giving £450,000 to the Civil List when private royal finance interests are unknown and shrouded in privacy. The poor Queen can't be enjoying her Mexican visit at all.

Home at 5.15. Lynn is in bed with funny pains in her stomach. Mum says she's had some idea that something's been wrong for about 10 days, and appendix cannot be ruled out. She doesn't look too good. I'll be glad when the doctor has seen her in the morning.

Old Mrs Thing across the road was found dead in bed last night. I hate people dying without letting people know - most inconsiderate, and it's always such a messy business what with the police and the Coroner, &c, &c. I delivered her morning paper many years ago, but otherwise I never came into contact with her.

John discovered this evening that Naomi's papa is a vicar! Yes, the Rev A.B. Downing is listed in the telephone directory as living at Naomi's address, so it must be the case. Please remind me to watch my language when I meet her again.

-=-

Tuesday October 8, 1974

Shocking day. Miss my lift with Mr Rawnsley and have to walk down the lane. The traffic is terrible. Don't arrive at Leeds till nearly 9.20. Busy day because Carol is still away - though we do manage to keep level and tidy. Eileen is much more helpful than Janice Beaumont ever was. Have no lunch and by 5 I'm quite starving to death.

Meet Lynn and Al (Dixon) on the 33 and we come home together. Thorpe Lane is certainly a straining walk on an empty stomach. Demolish a pile of liver and fruit pie. Do sweet sod all tonight and continue reading the Prince of Wales, which is fascinating. Haven't looked at the Duke of Clarence book since the weekend. It got slightly gorey towards the end & Dave Baker seemed interested by some of the intricate detail when I enlightened him with some of the facts on Saturday night.

Ring Lynne Mather at about 9 o'clock and we, or rather I, decide that we are to meet in Otley on Friday night. At first she thought I was going to bring all the mob with me, i.e. Chris, John, &c, but I made it quite clear I would be waiting upon her in a single capacity. She plays the typical 'hard to get' Miss at first but I tell her to be at the bus station for 8.30. No doubt she'll be late, but I am going to make it clear from the start that I will have no nonsense with her. After all, there's plenty more fish in the sea. More party political broadcasts all night, and bed at about 11 o'clock.

-==-

Wednesday October 2, 1974

Terrible day, with no end of rain from morning till night. Get a bit of soaking at 8 whilst leaving for the YP, but Mr Rawnsley picked me up before the deluge had any real effect. However, I did feel the full force of the torrents whilst coming back up the lane tonight.

October is forecast as a bloody awful month. Home at 6 to find Mum is unwell and has spent the afternoon in bed. She looks a bit peaky and has done for the past week.

See 'Carry On Spying' then depart upstairs for a bath. All night I've been desperate for something good to read.

Today I attempted to join Leeds Library but they wouldn't let me have any books until I can prove that I am actually Michael Rhodes. I was unable to do so today. I intend going back tomorrow with my driving licence. John and crowd go out, but I decide not to, due to severe financial difficuties. I'll have some fun tomorrow when Marita and I go for a drink somewhere.

Saw Philip Knowles on the bus. We had a laugh and he gave me information about Christine. One of these days I'll bump into Miss Braithwaite whilst on one of my scrounging trips around the banks in Leeds fair city.

Kathleen says she caught a glimpse of Princess Margaret when she was in London and says she looked shocking. People are always nasty about poor Margaret, but I see nothing wrong with her at all. She's far better than the Duchess of so-called Kent. See in the paper that Prince Andrew's been to France on an exchange holiday, he went round telling people he was from a landowning family, and that his mother was no-working! Her Majesty a non-working person indeed!

-==-

Friday October 5, 1973

MM's 18th birthday. Good old Jim Rawnsley (who is God to millions of council workers all over Aireborough) gave me a lift to Rawdon traffic lights and subsequently I was at school for 8.30. When Christine arrives she hands me a birthday card for MM which I sign forthwith. I decorated the envelope with a replica of the 'Royal Wedding' postage stamp which is to be released on Nov 14. The birthday boy arrives 5 minutes later and Christine gives him the card. He also receives one from Judith Lea.

At 10.0 I go down to Rawdon Library to avoid doing Economics which I cannot face on a Friday morning.

Later: having returned to Benton Park I attempt to copy up my George III essay. When I tell Christine, at 12.30, that I cannot go up to the Emmotts with her and MM, she goes into a frenzy and rips up my essay. The devils both rushed out leaving me only three quarters of an hour to re-write the whole thing (which I had in draft anyway). I am successful. They arrive back drunk at 2.0 o'clock. MM is then dunked in the sinks and sent off to his Economics lesson. At 2.30 he still looks pissed. Groves realises in Current Affairs.____________.

Later. Chris rings. We decide to meet at the Stansfield Arms down Apperley Lane at 8.30 - another enjoyable evening. A couple of dears from the Salvation Army come in selling magazines. Marita and I fill in a crossword. Andy arrives at 9.30. Coming home we see Haggis, who is now wed, and the Scottish bus driver nearly kills Andy over something he said.

--==--

Friday March 30, 1973

Unfortunately it was nearly 8 o'clock when I awoke. Therefore, I postponed my trip to school until the 9 o'clock bus came. But Jim Rawnsley was passing in the car and gave me a lift to Rawdon, arriving 9.10.

The morning, being incredibly boring, passed by slowly and I was greatly relieved when lunchtime came around again.

June and I of course made the usual mistake of announcing the fact that we intended making a State visit to Rigg's - within a matter of seconds we were bombarded with yells (hysterical ones at that) for folk demanding, even begging us to go for provisions for them as well. How could any civilised, Christian human being object?

At 2.30 Louise and I went to Biology where we practiced our Italian.

--==--

Wednesday February 28, 1973

Got up at 7.30 and went to school at 8.30. Mr Rawnsley saw me down the lane and gave me a lift to Rawdon. On arriving at school Linda said June was unwell and would not be coming to school. I was horror struck! How could I go through a day without the company of June? Happily, she arrived later looking beautiful as usual. Groves informed me that I had an interview with Mr Gaunt for 10. I dread going to see him. He's such a ridiculous burke. I went up with Denise and 10. He didn't have anything to say except to wish me luck for Friday's interview. Mrs Lane's lesson was rather interesting: Suez Crisis, and the rise of Harold Macmillan 1957-63, etc. At lunchtime June and I went down to the shops for a couple of Cadbury Creme Eggs and a pound of sugar for the servery. June went without her coat and looked really cold. She laughs when I say she'll catch cold. June has been delightful today. She tells me that she's going for tea with her sister Christine, in Guiseley. On Ings Lane to be precise. She was ready and waiting to leave at 4, but somehow the whole thing slipped my mind and we didn't leave until nearly 4.30 - she had been sitting silently in her duffle coat watching me chatting, instead of pulling me away. A romantic journey together on the same bus for once! --==--

Monday February 26, 1973

Awoke at 8. Mum wanted me to find out about trains to Darlington for Friday and was delayed in going to school until 9. Mr Rawnsley gave me a lift to Benton Park. It can't be bad having the Town Clerk of Aireborough Council as a chauffeur! Sat reading the Daily Mail in the common-room. When Princess Anne flew back from her first official visit alone yesterday she went straight to the home of Mark Phillips in Wiltshire. She didn't even go see Mummy and Daddy first. How can the palace spokesman continue to deny reports of a romance? In my opinion, the couple will be engaged before the autumn. They must be in love.

June arrived at school late as usual wearing her pretty red mini-jumper. It always makes her look highly sexy. Generally, the day was really boring. Chris and Louise are ignoring each other. Janet Roots was being bitchy. June did manage to help me with an Economics essay. She even managed to re-phrase some of the sentences in the text-book. You must be sick to death of hearing about June, after all, all diaries have feelings don't they?

Came home at 5 after standing holding hands with June at my bus stop for 30 minutes. Lower sixth lads passing by eyeing her enviously. Thousands are waiting for the chance to sink into June's arms.

JUNE MARGARET BOTTOMLEY SWOON SWOON

For some unknown reason I had to write this. I do suppose that in 20 years time I will accidentally find this diary at the bottom of some old chest and say: "what a perfect fool I must have been." However, I must not look at things from that point of view or I suppose I will never do anything out of the ordinary again. Growing old a great, massive "square".

Dear diary, do forgive me - but I am in love.

--==--

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.

--==--