Saturday March 4, 1978

Sun rises 06:40 Sun sets 17:46

Michelle's party at Shelf, near Halifax. At 8, Peter N took Sue, John, Maria and me to the Fleece. _________. I wore my new 31 inch jeans and boots. John said I look like a cowboy. Pete M finds my mode of dress amusing, but _______________.

At about 9pm we went to Shelf and the pub The Prince of Orange. I became quite pissed and suffered from hiccoughs on a phenomenal scale. A young lady called, I think, Darryl, befriended me, but she was in a worse state than I was. Michelle looked delectable but no way is she going out with Chris. They barely spoke to each other and she seemed to flit about with every other male at the party. At the party Darryl passed out in the dining room and was carried off to bed. I didn't lay eyes on her again. Shame. John Grady rolled up quite late. He seemed quite miserable. _______________. Steve and Charlie poured after shave lotion all over my head, but it was happy and boisterous. I like Steve because he's so consistent.

The party went far into Sunday morning. Sue, Pete, John, and Maria went off home after attempting to persuade me to join them. I was enjoying myself too much to go. We gave the record player some hammer until dawn. Sadly, as is often the case, people fell asleep, and by 4 or 5am I was bored and lonely. Telling Steve I was leaving I set out on foot down the road towards Bradford.

Thursday February 9, 1978

Letter from David L suggesting May 19 as a possible date for our raid on Nailsworth. I write to Helen and Graham suggesting this to them. If nothing else, it will give them time to prepare for the ghastly, drunken onslaught.

John Grady phoned at 3 (I'm on half day at home). It was good to hear from him. He suggests I go to Rawtenstall possibly the Monday after next with Chris who is going to Lancashire to visit John and Co and pay a long over due visit to his grandparents. I'll phone Chris tonight and see what he has to say. It's been great hearing from friends.

Christine phoned yesterday afternoon ~ just to make polite conversation. I think that our 'chat' at Naomi's rekindled a good deal of the old flame that burned between us. (Blimey!) But I think Christine and I will always be like one fun loving infused brain. I must write. (Yes, you've guessed that I'm entering this year's journal for the Nobel Prize for Literature). It's only just gone tea time and I've a lot to do yet so can you wait around until later this evening for me to continue? ...................

Lynn.

...............I don't think I should have bothered saving any space for later because tonight just faded out with no spectacular scenes of any kind. All I did was watch TV and read 'El Dorado' by Baroness Orczy. Retired to bed abominably late again because after 'Top of the Pops' Lynn and I retired to the dining room with a bottle of Liebfraumilch to look at photo albums and listen to records. It was so pleasant. Just think, it might be one of the last evenings of this kind. When she's married and raising red faced Bakers in Burley in Wharfedale she'll have no time to sit and think of old times with big brother. Isn't it sad? We have only just escaped from childhood and now she's going off into the big, wide world.

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Wednesday November 30, 1977

St Andrew's Day. A ghastly day. Just Kathleen and I in to do all the work. By 4:30 I was dead to the world. Didn't even have time to take a lunch break. I phoned Lynn this morning to enquire about acquiring a morning coat with tails from one of her mad associates. She settled it straight away and this saves me £8 or £9. Sisters can be very useful at times.

Striking firemen (1977).

______. This morning Jim Rawnsley gave a lecture on his view of the firemen's strike. He really let rip. He thinks all the striking firemen should be put up against a wall and shot. Blimey, we don't live in Chile or Argentina, Jim! (I almost said Spain here, but they are becoming more sensible and non-reactionary lately).

Got home at 5 o'clock. Mum and Dad are back from Luton. The funeral isn't until Tuesday and so they brought Edith & Ernest home too. They're going back on Monday.

I phoned John G in Rawtenstall. He is very well, in case you're interested.

Change of ink from red to black: I feel a little 'off it'. Almost as though I have a cold coming. In the bath at about 11. My neck aches. If it becomes any more painful I won't hesitate to chuck in work tomorrow.

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Saturday November 5, 1977

Dave of Stockport, John Grady, Steve Glenholmes, Michelle 'Pink Pants', Phil & Kathleen, &c, &c, paid us a visit. Dave arrived at about 5pm and the others at half nine. By the time the latter bunch came Dave and I were pissed on Mum's sangria and 'Chateau Pois'.

We went to the Fox and Hounds with Sue and Pete and met Tony, Martyn, Chris, Pete M,  and three or four females. One was called Edwina, but that's about all I can remember of them.

Peter M and John Grady.

At 11 we went back to Tony's (change of ink) for a party in the flat. Lynn and Dave joined us at midnight. They'd been to see the Rev Calvin Ward, vicar of Esholt, who is going to marry them on September 9, 1978. Good, eh?

John G seemed more reserved tonight and dedicated most of the evening, quite naturally, to Michelle. ____was getting at me quite a bit. My attitude is that he can piss off.

Phil and Kathleen are very pleasant people as indeed are all the Lancs/Greater Manchester contingent. Dave G is well in with Lynn, and it's great to see everyone hitting it off so nicely.

We were at Tony's until about 4am when we came to Pine Tops for a further riotous, yet non alcoholic session. Lynn made butties and coffee, but I was suffering from wild indigestion. I retired at 5am. John G slept on my floor. Chris slept with Michelle in the dining room and the remainder had the lounge. Lynn gave up her room for Phil and Kath who are, of course, married. Sue went to the Nason residence.

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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 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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Sunday October 16, 1977

19th after Trinity. Warm and sunny in Lancashire. I'm not pulling your leg either. I was aroused (in more ways than one) at about 10.30. Pete M, Michelle, John (Grady) and I were lying in a line on a strange sitting room floor underneath one solitary blanket. I felt fresh and awake and John was cheery but Michelle never regained consciousness. Pete was dead to the world too. Sue and Pete are the hardy type, well used to this lifestyle by now. Tea, toast and hysterics followed, and then John took us on a walk around the local rubbish tip (littered with contraceptives, I might add), whilst the hostess, Kathleen, cleared up the devastation.

At 12 we found a pub again and supped and made merry for a couple of hours. Laughed about the events of last night. I met a delightful young lady who helped me to sing tracks from the 'Sgt Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band' LP by the Beatles after which we sat in one another's arms on the settee covered by a warm, concealing continental quilt. Quite bliss, don't you think? Well, it would have been but for one slight flaw. The woman in question was married, and what's more her husband was sitting in the very same room scowling and shooting disapproving looks at the pair of us. Anyway, I sat next to the pair of them in the pub this afternoon and the husband was very friendly with me. I think the young lady had no idea what happened last night. She was so gone.

From here we found one of those hideous Kentucky Fried Chicken places where more hilarity followed. I called Michelle 'Pinky' and invited her to join the others when they come over to see us in a few weeks time.

Sue, Pete, Chris, Pete M and I left for home at about 4.30 and half way home we encountered the fog once again. The weather was ghastly at home.

Just watched TV tonight. Tony phoned.

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Saturday October 15, 1977

Foggy still and at breakfast we had a heated argument on the subject of whether we should still go to see John (Grady) in Rawtenstall if the weather continues. How depressing.

I just sat and stared glumly out of the window in the afternoon with the record player singing away in the background, and by tea time it was much more clear.

At 6.30 we went to collect Chris and Pete M at Horsforth. The journey to Lancashire took just an hour and Mr Mather attempted to break the world land speed record, I fear.

with Noel Pilling and John Grady.

John (Grady) was nothing but pure madness from the moment of our arrival. What's more he is now endowed with a beard. Joined by his friends Gary, Steve and Charlie and a few others and we went for a few drinks and on to the 21st birthday party of one of his friends. Drank pils lager and did a bit of punk rock dancing. I was immediately impressed by a girl called Michelle with shaggy blond hair and tight pink jeans. We left here at 10. It was sad because it all the signs of being an excellent party.

On to the Angels at Burnley. A hot, crowded place, but great fun. It's unbelievable the number of women John is acquainted with - most of them very good looking too. Met Noel and his fiance Karen, who says she met me at Manchester Airport after the holiday but of course I don't remember a thing. Sue and Pete got on well with them all which was good. At 1.30 we returned to the party where the remaining survivors were fantastically pissed-up. We danced and joked until dawn. Hylda Baker made an appearance.

Vodka and Pomagne was the 'in drink' in our set. The highlight of the session came at about 4.30am when Michelle removed her blouse and sat about in her sexy black bra and wonderfully tight pink trousers. Oh how I love drunk women! The way they slur their speech and loll in that appealing manner. It was just too much for John and I. We laughed until daylight.

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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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Monday September, 5, 1977

 A most interesting day all in all. Lynn was nasty this morning about me going to the barbecue on Saturday. It made me angry because never have I felt so right about an action in my whole life. ___________.

At tea time Susan made a massive meal for the family expecting the arrival of Mum, Dad and Uncle Harry - but they didn't arrive, and the food intended for them was devoured by me at various periods throughout the evening.

I phoned John G in Rawtenstall and told him we'd be over on September 17. Watched a TV programme on Lord Lichfield which was good. Mum, Dad and Harry and the dog, Tan, arrived at about 10 and we had a minor home brew session which took us through until 12.45. We discussed the Lane Fox family and the fact that old Wetherby people Brigadier Hargreaves, the pompous Lord Lieutenant, and Sir Kenneth Parkinson, our beloved chairman, are married to sisters.

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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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Sunday August 7, 1977

9th after Trinity. No hangover or ill effects. Phil looks diabolical but the rest seem to be fine. John G is a bundle of joy even first thing on a morning - it's quite amazing.

Chris & Steve.

We went to the Commercial at 12. (Martyn, Tony, Sue, Pete N, Pete M, John G, Steve, Phil, Charlie and me that is). Joined by Mum and Dad at 1pm and we all sat outside until 2. Poor Chris arrived at about five minutes to closing time just as Martyn was driving Tony home __________.

Everyone back to Pine Tops for luncheon and Edith & Ernest came round afterwards and we all played twenty questions and drank lager and made merry. The lads from Lancashire had a marvellous time. They kept saying what fantastic people Mum & Dad are. _________.

To the Bod tonight and the lads set off back home at about 10. It's gone very quiet now without John Grady's constant joking. Tony had a good time chatting with Wendy and Anne. We took the girls home at 10.30 Wendy travelling on my knee in the front seat. Quite a laugh. In fact the whole weekend has been a riot. Can hardly wait to get a Rawtenstall trip arranged so that once again we can hear the pub ring to the sound Hylda Baker, Shirley Bassey and Diana Ross.

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Saturday August 6, 1977

Sue, Pete and I went to Ilkley at lunchtime. Linda W was busy making sausage rolls and Tony was out shopping. Peter just stood with his eyes glued firmly to the Rose & Crown across the road, and it was a very tempting sight. On Tony's return he suggested we go over the road 'for a few'. Peter's dream was fulfilled.

Peter M & John Grady.

Three pints and several Max Miller jokes later we were back at the flat cleaning away months of filth and devastation. Spent £11 at Hillard's on booze, would you believe. Tony had 'words' with Linda just before she left after preparing the food. It all started when she said "I'm not coming if Denise is". __________.

Andy and Linda: married Aug 6 1977.

Home by tea time. I have a message from John Grady in Rawtenstall. He and Steve want to come over for the night - is it all right? Oh My God it's bloody perfect. I waited at home for them to arrive. Mum and Dad went out for dinner and Sue and Pete went on to Ilkley. The lads arrived at about 9.30 with Phil and Charlie - a couple of friends and the 5 of us went to the Crescent and on to the Rose & Crown before going to the party. All a bit pissed. Mum and Dad came to the flat and stayed for quite a while. They were laughing with John, who is riotous. Denise arrived and left at about 2.30 with Ron. ____________.The festivities went on until about 6.30am.









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Wednesday August 3, 1977

Dave Glynn's 23rd birthday. I must give him a buzz to organise the holiday reunion party. We can't lose contact with dear John, Steve and Noel. Stayed in bed until after 9 o'clock. After all, I didn't get in until 5.30. I cannot be expected to have a mere two hours sleep and then roll into the office. I phoned Sarah to break the news of my absence and she was quite chirpy and nice. "I hope you'll soon be better" she chirped.

Lady Sarah Spencer: no beauty.

Frank Perfect, the husband of the sweet, little old lady from Westgate, Tranmere Park, who befriended me in my newspaper delivery days, is dead. I haven't seen either of them for two or three years, but they took a real shine to me and always made me feel welcome. He was only 62. He was the general factory manager of J.I. Case Co Ltd, manufacturers of construction equipment, and in charge of their Leeds plant since 1964. Perhaps I should send Mrs P a letter or something.

The Prince of Wales Romance Stakes are opening again. We now have three candidates in the running (according to the beloved Press). They are: Davina Sheffield, Princess Marie-Astrid and the Lady Elizabeth Sarah Lavinia Spencer. Lady Sarah is a daughter of the 8th Earl Spencer and is step-daughter of Raine, Countess Spencer, who was previously Lady Dartmouth. Her ancestors include at least three dukes, Marlborough, Abercorn and Bedford, and the Earls of Lucan crop up once or twice in her lineage. However, she is no beauty. After the gorgeous Davina Sheffield I'm afraid it's all down hill as far as I'm concerned. I just don't know what HRH must be thinking. A big, stately home in Kent standing empty (Chevening), just waiting for the feminine touch of some willowy princess, but he's making no attempt to provide the nation with one. The Duke of Edinburgh once made a speech about 'pulling the finger out', well I think he should get onto his eldest son.

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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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Monday July 11, 1977

On the town in Ibiza with Noel Pilling (left) and John Grady (centre)

Go all over the bars in San Antonio and end up with John (Prince Charles) at Nito's with two German ladies, Brunhilda and 'Sicklinda' - God knows how you go about spelling that (Sieglinde?). We walked them to a grotty hotel and sat outside drinking some cheap brandy and Coca Cola - more brandy than coke. I accidentally dropped a lit cig down my shoe and burned my foot. Agony is hardly the word for it.






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Sunday July 10, 1977

5th after Trinity. Left for Manchester (Airport) at about 8am with the lads, Peter and Chris having come from Denise's (21st birthday) party.

At Manchester Airport.

Flight was delayed and we passed two or three hours in the bar. We all seemed to get on OK. Got to the Hotel Pacific for lunch. Holiday begins.

Met three lads from Lancashire, Noel (Pilling), John (Grady) and Steve. All out on the town together. Riotous.












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