Thursday November 6, 1975

A bright cold morning. Up at 7.40 and don't have time for breakfast.

I think it is something of a coincidence that Inverary Castle, Scottish home of the Duke of Argyll, is raised to the ground by a mysterious fire on Bonfire Night, the very day before Margaret Duchess of Argyll publishes her memoirs. Old Margaret has little or no affection for her step-son, the duke, and it's a known fact that she would do anything for publicity. I will discuss this affair when more details come in.

Would you believe me if I were to tell you that Franco is being kept alive on a kidney machine? Well, he is. Juan Carlos is the one I feel sorry for. If he isn't a patient man I can't see him being happy at the present time.

Thank God it's pay day. I will have to watch how I spend it this week because I think that Carole's birthday present had better come out of it. Just what I am going to get her is a revolting problem. My imagination just fizzles out when it comes to birthdays, christmases ande christenings. She says all she would like is a solitary red rose, but I must think of something more substantial.

The traffic in Leeds at 4.30 today was like Los Angeles in the rush hour. The bus completely ignored me, and I walked all the way across town to the bus station. It was nearly 6pm when I staggered in for tea.

Mum and Dad are in stitches about Mr Monkman, who came round today to try and solve the 'BUDGIES FOR SALE' sign mystery. Evidently a car did stop on Sunday morning and a chap did enquire about blue breeders! His main reason for coming round, however, was to ask Papa to witness his will. No doubt the whole of the Monkman estate will pass to his beloved son, Tony.

Carole rings me at 8 and we talk for ten minutes or so. Seeing her tomorrow evening. Mum and Dad go to Pudsey to see the Gadsbys. John and I watch a clapped out film starring Michael Redgrave. It's quite good really - just old.

I go for my bath at 11.30.

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Thursday July 24, 1975

As far as mechanical objects are concerned I am a complete and utter failure. You may recall that when I last borrowed an umberella (Dave B's) I had the misfortune to render it useless in Guiseley Railway Station when it jammed just as my train was approaching. Well, I suppose you are asking 'why bring this up?' and 'what's it got to do with us?', &c. Well, I'll tell you. When I arrived home at 1am this morning from Carole's I found that her Dad's umberella, which she had kindly lent me, and jammed in the up position and no persuasion of any kind would make it close up. Had I been on the platform of one of the many our great British railway stations I would have had to smash it to pieces with my bare hands, but because I was at home I took relief in the knowledge that it would come to no harm on the garage floor. And it's out there even now, 24 hours later. Not even John can do anything for it. Poor Mr Phillips isn't going to be happy when he finds out.

In her capacity as Mistress of the Robes, Sarah accompanied me to town for a trouser purchasing session. I managed to get a pair costing £9.90, which is the most I've ever forked out for trousers. We took an extra half hour for lunch and managed to fit one in the Generation Bar. I was livid and drained of all patience by the imbecility of the bar staff and I nearly died of thirst too. Efficiency is a must behind a bar, and that wench certainly had none.

I actually rang Denny this afternoon to see if we really need typhoid jabs - her being a travel agent I thought she'd have been notified. She said it didn't matter either way really, and something about it (the jab) taking four weeks to get into the blood! I ask her to come on Saturday night, and it all seemed like old times again.

Home at 6 and Carole rings an hour later to see if I want to go for a meal with the Macdonalds and John and herself tomorrow. I think 'Oh sod the expense' and say yes. She goes away for two weeks at the weekend, and I', still hell bent on retaining my absolute freedom. I must, I bloody well must.

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Saturday July 12, 1975

Up very late and have lunch almost immediately. Dave B comes round in the car and he persuades me to go along with him and Lynn to Bradford on a boozing/shopping spree. (Well, he didn't persuade me at all really. Actually, I invited myself along, but I always think a diarist should be allowed to use a bit of poetic licence.) John and Maria came along too, and the five of us had to squeeze into Dave's little car.

The girls went off shopping for an hour and we three went to the Queen's. Played a few records on the juke box and consumed a few pints, and met the ladies at 3pm outside Chelsea Girl, which was quite a nice arrangement.

At 4.30 we went back to George's. Sorry I keep calling her Maria. I sometimes forget. Meet a friend of hers called Caroline who prefers to be known as Carole. Good looking, but not quite right in the head - rather like ____in character. At 7pm she, that is Carole, rings me and more or less asks me out. I say she can join us at the Hare & Hounds for a few drinks, but make no other suggestion at all.

Lynn and Dave continue to kid everyone one about being engaged, and she's wearing a ring costing 8p! Poor Chris was so stunned he had to sit down!

Dave L took us to the Cow & Calf pub and at 10.30 tghe inevitable happened and we went downstairs to the disco. We all had a great time, and Christine D, Carole, Dave came back to Pine Tops for coffee. It was foggy and raining over the moor tonight.

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Thursday July 3, 1975

Another gorgeous day. We haven't had a drop of rain now for about five weeks, and it's absolutely fantastic.

Sarah Elizabeth Collis and I go to Whitelocks again, where we meet David B. Those two get on with one another like a house on fire, and David amuses Sarah really phenomenally. The two of us stagger back to work in the blazing heat and we don't tell Carol or Eileen that we've been out together. They believe what we say, though we do slip up occasionally, but quite unnoticed. A real darling, Sarah is. We're doing Town Street tomorrow night, so don't blame me if the writing on Friday's page is illegible.

See TV all evening, including 'Top of the Pops' which is full of rubbish.

I'm not writing any more now, so you can just get lost, the lot of you.

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Monday June 30, 1975

Pleasant day, but piles of work to do. Sarah and I go shopping at lunchtime, and I lay hands on a new T-shirt for the coming Spanish trip. It cost £2.99 which isn't bad. The last one I got was £3.50. I'm not really making excuses, but the weather was so hot we just had to have a drink. So into the Ostlers we hurried and drank three pints of cider between us ( I had two thirds of the three pints). We arrange to do Town Street again next Friday, but starting at the Fleece instead, and at 7pm too. I can hardly wait.

Home at 5 feeling starved again. After tea I chase around the back lawn with the mower and do a good job of it I think. Dad was spraying all the roses with fly killer, and Susan was watering her 'night scented stocks' - so on the whole we made an industrious little bunch.

Do sod all in the evening other than read a really revolting book about King Edward VII and the Press, by a Yank called Robey, or something, and I really think it numbers among the worst books I've ever clapped eyes on. The memoirs of Raffaelle, Duchess of Leinster were the worst, but this thing comes a close 2nd. He's convinced that Queen Victoria was perverted sexually and insists of inventing members of the House of Lords. 'Earl Russell of Clarendon' for example. There's never been such a peerage title.

Saw Mr William Hamilton, MP, on TV tonight. He was discussing his book 'My Queen and I' - a revolting pack of lies and abuse. Hermione Gingold, the actress, really pulled him, Mr H, to pieces, and he hadn't a leg to stand on. This so called 'honourable' member for Mid-Fife ought to be transported to Uganda to take the place of Denis Hills, who faces a firing squad there on Friday. I'm sure Britain wouldn't mind, and General Amin isn't bothered who dies so long as he sees blood flowing. Sad really.

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Thursday June 26, 1975

A rotten day. I took several of those tablets at teatime and went out to the Fox & Hounds with Christine at 8, where I had one pint of cider. The two of us then moved on to the Hare, which was open for the first time in a week, where I had another couple of drinks. Suddenly I felt all peculiar and odd. John noticed that I was 'off hand' with him for some unknown reason, and 'George' too seemed curious about the way I was 'carrying on'.

When I got home at 11 I was rude to Mum and upset her, and then I went into semi-hysterics. Upsetting everyone in the house was unforgivable of me, and I vowed to Mum that I'd never take a tablet from that bottle again. I've not felt spot on since bloody Ludlow prescribed them for me a week ago. It really was an awful experience, and I never want to have anything like that happen to me again.

To get back to better things. I met Dave and one of his mates in Whitelocks at lunchtime and bought them a few pints each because they were so short of money. His pal is obsessed with sex and it seems horribly immature to hear people like that go on and on. We all know how we feel about the opposite sex, but I don't see why it should be the sole topic of conversation every time men gather together under one roof. I'm not odd, am I?

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Wednesday June 25, 1975

Lynn and David entertained me over a bottle of apricot wine this evening. John was, quite naturally, out with 'George', and Susan was babysitting. Mum and Dad being out at the pub, we had the house free. Saw episode two of 'The Poisoning of Charles Bravo' and all I can say is it must be a good programme because I rarely remain indoors for the sake of a TV programme, but this is an exception. 'Edward VII' is another one of course, but I never go out on Tuesdays anyway.

Bed at 11pm after having fish and chips for supper. A warm night, and I lay in bed with the curtains drawn back admiring the night sky and the beautiful stars.

(Oh, by the way. I met Christine in the Ostlers at 12.30 today, and we had a few drinks. Believe it or not, I've lost my passion for her now, and feel 'head over heels' with Sarah.)

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Wednesday May 21, 1975

Another beautiful day. Sarah comes into town with me at lunchtime and I drag her around several banks and a Post Office - on Barclaycard business. After paying up this month's installment we walk leisurely back to the YP.

Sarah really is a lovely bird but somehow I never quite feel at ease with her. I'd have asked out years ago if only I'd been blessed with the right amount of courage and 'get up and go' spirit. She will be 23 in November, but I don't suppose that matters much. After all, I am 20. Anyway, what is the use in me getting on like this? Grief, I take a gorgous bird out for a lunchtime drink and I come home with ideas of starting a permanent union! Oh, I forgot to mention that when I said we'd gone round Leeds. At 1.40 we called in for a quick one before resuming our duties in the dismal structure of Yorkshire Post Newspapers Ltd. I'm still in love with CB anyway and I don't care if you think I'm a crazy, mixed up youth who happens to fall in love with everything in eye make-up, because I would never feel like I do about Sarah if Christine hadn't resumed her relations with 'Lord Baden-Powell'.

Christine rang at 4.15 and said she'd be in the Hare tonight and went on to say that she'd be 'lost and all alone' at the weekend when I am away. Every time I mention Gary she laughed as though something was in the air, but refused to tell me any more. Anyway fans, hang about until midnight when I'll complete the chronicles of today's events.

.... Later: You'll be hanging around for a long time if you expect any more tonight.

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Sunday March 30, 1975

Easter Day. I'm sure Easter Sunday wasn't as early as this last year. I always thought it fell somewhere after my birthday, but it goes to show that even I can make the occasional mistake.

Do nothing all day other than eat chocolates and watch tv. The house was uncluttered with human bodies for the first time in years. Lynn, Dave, Sue and Peter went to the Lake District for the day. John was out on the booze. So, Easter Day lunch was a miserable event with just the three of us, i.e Mum, Dad and myself. Food very nice though.

At 8.15 Dave L comes for me in the car and I escape the horrors of Richard Harris and Vanessa Redgrave in 'Camelot', a revolting film on the BBC. King Arthur and all that. Meet MM and Marita and head for Leeds. The Three Bells, a nasty little pub in Headingley near Bryan's Fish and Chip Shop, is the first place to be patronised by us before moving on to the Skyrack, riddled with festering students and such like. At about 10 we all flee like big kids to the Woodhouse Moor Fair where, to our horror, we discover the bloody thing closing down for the night. After one go on the dodge 'ems the lights go out and the four of us console ourselves with chicken and chips in Headingley. Back to MM's for coffee until 1am. Sit telling tales of horror and fright. Home in the early hours in the Lawson-mobile. I can soon forsee a Matthews/Fountain engagement. Yes, Siree.

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Friday February 28, 1975

Go to Leeds on the 55 bus and encountered Philip Knowles no less. He had certain unrepeatable things to say about Christine, but otherwise it was a pleasant journey. Work was busy but pleasant. Didn't arrive until 9.15 and left at 4.30. My lovable boss is worth her weight in gold.

On Wednesday in the Hare I had an interesting conversation with Helen and we decided to hold a joint birthday celebration on April 5. Something like Chris and Laura did last year - a coach party job. She's going to do some ringing round over the next few days. May as well arrange it as soon as possible.

At lunchtime I get another pair of trousers - brown this time though.I'll be something like a living tailor's dummy by the time Spring pops up.

To the Hare & Hounds with Lynn and Dave. Chris comes along. Christine is babysitting or something equally obnoxious for a Friday. Keith and Helen, Carol (with her hair up). No Phyllis Whitethighs she has galloping pneumonia or something. John and Naomi in all their splendour. Helen (or Southern Comfort Sally), and that's about it. The Happy Family in the Hare and all is well. Some move on to the Malt Shovel in Menston, but the life and soul remain faithful to the Pub of Pubs.
To Wikis where Christine Dibb and I dance ourselves into a semi-state of unconsciousness. At 1.30 whilst we are still dancing the others creep home leaving us to our own devices. We walk home together at 2. a bit misty, but no cold which was a God send.

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Saturday February 15, 1975

Go with John to Otley and mess around for an hour. Come home with 'The Laughing Policeman' a really revolting record, and a box of chocolates for Motherdear. A bright sunny day, but chilly and cold.

Hear on the radio that PG Wodehouse is no longer with us. Knighted only a month ago. His death brings a 70 year career as a writer to a close. 'Lord Emsworth and Others' is the only thing I've read of his.

Chris Denby and Teale give me a lift to the Highlander in Leeds at 8. Neither of them have past a driving test, and there we were in a large Bedford van rocketing through Leeds. Meet Marian at 8.30. Really a nice girl. Not particularly good looking, but her eyes are beautifully hypnotic. Gorgeous hair too.
Back to Gillian Barker's near the university for the party. Drink gallons but feel no adverse effects. Marian is such an intellectual conversationalist. You feel as if you should always be on your guard when talking to her. She rivets the hypnotised victim to the spot and keeps throwing up morsels of geniously planned chatter. Quite unlike any other girl I've taken out.

Have no idea what time the party falls through, but Marian and I bed down on the floor in the largest room, with no warmth other than a beautiful scarfe which we share.


Laughing Policeman by Charles Jolly/Penrose

Friday February 14, 1975

St Valentine's Day. Farcical day, or perhaps I should say farcical evening.

Didn't get any Valentine's cards. John got two. Lynn had a massive thing from Dave, and so did Sue from Peter. My magnetic charm must be fading. Am I losing my sex appeal at 19 and a half?

Went to the Wellesley with Maura at lunchtime. She obviously fancies Dave still, and I suppose a reunion will take place shortly. The fool sends her telegrams,roses, and boxes of chocolates, &c.

Chris collected us at nearly 8pm and a vast multitude collected in the Hare. Gillian thingy or whatever she calls herself flung herself at me in the Hare and stuck to me all night, drinking about a quids work of vodka & lime in the process. Thrown together in the darkness near the end of Peter's van she quite naturally sought to reduce my resistence. I was in something of a quandry at about 11. Everyone said they were going to Wikis, but I realised Maura and Marian would be there. Wouldn't like to be confronted with Marian and Gillian in the beer swilling haven of our local night spot. Back to Gillian's pad with Peter M and Carol S. Stay until after 1am.
John came home at about 5.30am and didn't have a key. Woke to find him on the top of a ladder tapping on my window. Laughed myself to sleep.

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Saturday February 8, 1975

Up at noon. John and I take the car into Guiseley and then get a train into town (Leeds). Wander round aimlessly looking in shop windows and laugh at the craze which certain male members of our generation have adopted - wearing trousers ridiculously short. Poor lads - they've no idea at all. Home at about 5.
Marlene, Frank and the kids have come for tea. Mark is a nice little lad and we have several games of marbles before and after tea.

Leave for the Hare & Hounds at 8 so that John can attempt to pick up the girl he was with yesterday at Wikis (Naomi Downing). We're going to Tiffany's by the way. The female doesn't respond and we leave for the Fleece empty handed. Pick Christine B up and then meet Peter Mather and Andy in the Fleece. Have several drinks whilst waiting for Lynn & Dave. Andy goes down to the Hare & Hounds and well drive like hell let loose to Leeds. Never again. Tiffany's is the most diabolical so called disco I have ever had the misfortune to attend. Nobody in there looked younger than 65. Most of them with fond memories of Disraeli's last government and the Relief of Ladysmith. Truly revolting. Have a laugh all the same but vow with all my heart, body and mind, never to set foot in the place again as long as I live. The others liked the place, and some were so taken in by it all that they actually said they'd go again! Back to Ratcliffe Hall for coffee until nearly 4am. Absolutely tired and shagged out after the exertions of the evening. Bed and deep sleep at the unearthly hour of 5 o'clock.

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Monday February 3, 1975

Busy day at the YP. Attempt to do a few letters in the afternoon but don't get through more than a handful. Sit in front of the television all night after having a bath. See 'The Likely Lads' - one of the funniest programmes around at the moment. Then sit in bed with Agatha Christie until nearly 1.0am.

Lynn and Dave went to Tiffany's in Leeds with Andy and his so-called cousin 'Judith'.________.

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Tuesday December 24, 1974

Christmas Eve. YP till 12 before the festivities begin. At 12 I go outside to meet John who is coming into Leeds for the booze-up in the Central Station pub. He comes up to the library and waits while we open our presents and knock back a glass of cinzano bianco.

The Central is packed out - unbelieveable. Sarah, John and I spend most of the time at the bar. Peter Lazenby and few of his 'Roundhead' Sealed Knot friends go almost hysterical when I tell them that Sarah is descended from Bridget, daughter of Oliver Cromwell, and General Henry Ireton. Praise upon praise was lavished upon her. However, they didn't go so far as to buy her a drink. Sarah, John and I left Leeds by bus at about 3 o'clock. The massive crowd in the Central prevented us from being rendered incapable with ales and spirits, but we weren't all that sober. Devour a few layers of chocolates while travelling home.

At home Mum is prepared for Christmas. Have tea - the first meal of the day for me, before going out on the town to the Hare at 8.30. We stay until 11.30 and nobody seems really enchanted with festive cheer. Come home with Lynn and Dave Baker and sit about merry-making until the early hours.

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Tuesday December 17, 1974

To Leeds with John on a 33 bus at about 7.45pm. 

We meet Chris in the Highlander where he's been waiting for about an hour. The weather is absolutely freezing cold and we attempt to thaw out with whisky and orange. After two minutes we switch to pints of lager - a shame really. Dave, Lynn, Sue and Peter come at about 9 o'clock and I begin worrying about whether the two youngsters will obtain admission in Rockerfellas. 

At 9.30 we nip across to the Vintage where we have a few drinks with Kathleen, Sarah and mob. Little spot of bother at Rockerfellas with Peter - but we're all admitted. Once again Sarah is overpoweringly stunning. Charming and too glamorous to be capably described. I feel she entices me, and leads me on on these occasions. November 5 was the last occasion, and she did the same this time. We had a few cosy dances together, and rather a lot, though not enough, necking. Lynn says that ____is positively envious at my 'catch'. 

All the girls were great and amused at Eileen catching John off his guard. Even Kathleen laughed at the sight of my brother and Miss Byram copulating openly before a wide range of the assembled multitude. John and I home in a taxi at 2 with Sarah (swoon) and Carol. I was in the back with the ladies - and need I say more than the fact that I paid more attention to Miss Collis than I did Mrs Johnson.

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Thursday December 12, 1974

Warmer day than yesterday and not too frosty. Work all morning until 12 and then go into Leeds with Kathleen where she buys a massive cardigan for her Dad's Christmas present. We then move on to Boots where she gives me some ideas about the numerous things I've got to get before Xmas Day. At 1 she leaves me to go back to work and I wind my way through Debenham's and back to Boots. Messing around near the aftershave department I bump into Marita & we mutter and moan about having to buy presents, and she slings a few suggestions at me. We then go into the street and bump into dear old Dave Baker outside Schofields. M rushes off back to work and Dave & I go to the Ostlers for a couple of drinks. We discuss Lynn over pints of lager. He tells me he's bought her a bottle of Pernod for Christmas, amongst other things. Another drunken festive season coming up. I buy Lynn a pair of slippers - not miserable granny type - but soft violet ones with large furry tops. Yes.

No Monty Python tonight which is rather unfortunate really.

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Tuesday December 10, 1974

Edward VIII abdicated 1936. Long day at the YP but enjoyable. As I came back from lunch Janice 'the Formidable' Beaumont, was on the phone from hospital announcing that she'd been delivered of a daughter yesterday morning. Sarah was thrilled to bits, but I can't raise any excitement at Mrs Beaumont's bundle of news. Janice was a bitch, and I can't say I miss her at all.

Meet Lynn and Alison on the bus and we are caught up in a hail storm on Hawksworth Lane. Have liver for tea and then do absolutely nothing for the remainder of the evening.

Whilst shopping in Leeds today I saw a good book entitled 'The Royal House of Windsor'. I'd love to start a book collection. In fact I'm more than tempted. I also got a new diary for next year. Sarah says she's kept a diary since the age of 9. You all know now that I write very little of interest here, but I keep a constant and cronological flow at least. As I've said before I'm no Samuel Pepys.

The YP and I had something in common this morning. An article quoted King Farouk from 1951 saying it was gradually becoming a true fact. I quoted King Farouk yesterday on the same subject of declining and toppling thrones. Clever boy, Michael. Clever boy.

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Friday October 25, 1974

King Stephen died 1154. A horribly busy day. Get up after 8 but don't arrive late for work because John's lift to Yeadon helped me get a bus.

The Duchess of Gloucester's baby is a 4lb 4oz boy - or Earl - and he's having breathing difficulties in his incubator. Kensington Palace says the doctors are 'concerned'. A know-all journalist in the Daily Express says that the child will be christened William after his deceased uncle. Who does she think she is? Yesterday, in my anger, I said that the little Earl was 10th in line of succession. In fact he's 9th.

Dave and Lynne M arrived at about 8.15 & we see Morecambe & Wise until after 9. The four of us then go on to Leeds and have one drink in the Highlander before going across the road to Cinderella's. No trouble getting Lynn into the building. You're supposed to be 21 and she's only 16! Drink, pernod, whisky and ale until 2. Truly memorable evening & Lynne wore a white carnation in her buttonhole which looked slightly like we'd been to a wedding reception, but otherwise it was 'fab' (to quote Judith Rushworth). Home at nearly 3 and have chicken soup and toast. Bed feeling unusually tired.

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Wednesday October 16, 1974

Cold and miserable all day. Really a typical autumn. My half-day. Meet Lynne outside the YP at a bit past 12. Because of the rain we go to Whitelocks, where we have one drink and discuss what we want to do for the rest of the afternoon. Don't fancy walking through Leeds in the drizzle, and she suggests we go home to Bramhope, for lunch, &c.

Look around the Art Gallery whilst waiting for the bus, and eventually arrive at Lynne's at 2. We sit cosily on her sumptuous sofa, doing romantic things like eating beans on toast, and afterwards the passion becomes too great for us and we go wild watching a repeat of the 'Forsyte Saga' on the BBC until 4. We leave at 4.30. She goes to Leeds to have tea with her Papa, who is general manager of Schofield's (just thought I'd drop that morsel of information in). I get several buses and eventually roll in at 6. See 'Carry On Screaming' till 8 and feel generally bored. John goes out as usual, and so too do Mum and Dad. Dave rings Lynn, Peter calls on Susan - so in one way or another we are all paired off now. Haven't seen or heard of Denny since Saturday.

Dustmen who went on strike in Nottingham after being called 'idiots' by a local councillor, have gone back to work after the young man in question made a public apology. (Just heard that morsel on Radio Luxembourg and thought I'd slip it in).

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