Tuesday April 4, 1978

Out at lunchtime to Parker's (wine bar) with Jacq and Trixie. The place was quite empty, but we had a good few drinks and a spot of something to eat. Trixie goes off to Suffolk tomorrow house hunting and Jacq won't be seeing her until we go to Gina's wedding in 3 weeks.




Nothing happened tonight. Jacq went to Trixie's hotel at Garforth for dinner and fond farewells and I did nothing but watch TV.

My Uncle Peter was 49 today. Mum gave me a (birthday) card saying 'Happy Birthday Slob' and £3. She presented me with this tonight because on no account will she be out of bed before my departure to the labour camp at dawn.

-=-

Thursday November 10, 1977

Went to see Carole at 2.30 bearing a box of chocolates and fearing the worst. Leeds Infirmary is an incredible place to get in. The bloke who first discovered Ward 26 may well have been Capt Scott.

Carole is ill but one wouldn't believe it by looking at her. Her looks have not deteriorated nearly half as much as I'd been informed by other visitors. She was overjoyed to see me and was an Angel. For me it was glorious to see her face and hear her voice. Her mother was with her, and behaved very nicely. It was just like old times in fact. Carole is the bravest kid alive - and she's only just managed to hang onto that by God's will. Mrs Phillips says that on two or three occasions Carole was a 'write off', and it seems that their priest is wearing a path from his church to the hospital. I was horrified to hear Carole's description of several revolting tests they have subjected her to, and could not find the suitable words to respond. I am over awed by it all. Her body is paralysed after treatment she's had on her spine and she is blind in one of her eyes (but unaware of this). I left at 3.30 and returned to the YP promising to visit again on Monday with chocolates and sandwiches. In hospital Carole is actually eating meat and vegetables of the non canned, fried or baked beaned variety. She is putting up one Hell of a fight. I do love her. She loves Peter Fogarty. I just want to see her happy whether it's with me, Fogarty or the Aga Khan.

To the (West Yorkshire) Playhouse at Leeds with Sarah after tea at Delia's. Saw 'Twelfth Night' with Vivien Heilbron as Olivia. Incredibly amusing. I seemed to enjoy it more than Sarah who looked seriously bored by it all. I do think she finds me dull. We left at 10.30 and she came back for a cup of tea (she never partakes in coffee). Mum is still laid up in bed and the Norfolk venture is fading all the more. Poor Soul. I shall have to get her a present at the weekend.

-=-

Monday November 7, 1977

Sarah's 25th birthday. Her Silver Jubilee in fact. Not a thrilling day by any means and Sarah isn't in ecstasy at the thought of attaining her quarter century. With Eileen we went to Da Mario's on the Headrow at 1pm for a celebration nosh. Joined by Bev and Marilyn Wheeler. ___________.

Vivien Heilbron.

Back to the YP bloated and tired at 2.30. I told Sarah I would not formally recognise her jubilee until Thursday when we go to the Playhouse to see Vivien Heilbron in 'Twelfth Night'. Afterwards we shall have to let ourselves go. She does me a lot of good does Sarah Elizabeth. To paraphrase Bagehot she's a 'soothing influence on a dark and restless age'.

Tonight John came up to plan a night out with with Mum and Dad and Maria at a place of Mum and Dad's choice. They decide upon the Cow & Calf tomorrow night. _______.

-=-

Thursday October 13, 1977

The delights of Sarah this evening once again. We played squash at the usual time after devouring far too much food at Delia's. She is terrible at over-feeding me.

Princess Margaret: peach

At lunchtime Sarah and I joined a crowd outside the Leeds Civic Hall and saw the arrival of Princess Margaret who came to a lunch with William Hudson, the Guiseley-born Lord Mayor. The princess looked marvellous. Just like a tiny peach and graceful as a swan. I fail to see how anybody can say she is 'dumpy' or 'fat'.

After squash we went to the Commercial. We discussed marriage again and our different relationships. ______. We also talked about work and I said I cannot last out at the YP for much longer. The money is diabolical and I point out it would be impossible for me to be married, have children and a house and remain in employment with the ridiculous newspaper. She agreed and says how sad it is that I cannot be given the opportunity of to stay with the company on a decent wage.

Back at Pine Tops for 10.30 where Sarah showed Mum four or five of her pots. She left them with us so that Mum can decide which one she prefers. I have a sneaking suspicion that dear Mama will keep them all.

Bed with 'The Count of Monte Cristo' again. It was pay day today, folks.

-=-

Thursday September 15, 1977

Good old Lynn and David, eh? I am so relieved that they have stuck it out to the bitter end like this. I cannot wish for a better brother-in-law than David, and I told him so at lunchtime when we went to the Boar's Head, a new pub near the Bond Street development. He was feeling rough after last night and only managed one, solitary pint, but I managed to put away a couple. He could not understand why he felt so nervous approaching Mum and Dad because he knows them so well. I tell him how good and considerate it was of them to give the family prior notice of the engagement. I don't think Mum and Dad would have wanted them just to walk in with a ring.

Dave & Lynn.

I left Dave at about 1.15 and staggered back to the YP. Work was ghastly. I'm not discussing it, anyway. How can I talk about work when my beautiful sister is about to embark on the biggest step down life's pathway? That innocent little child on whom I've showered my brotherly affection for almost 20 years is going to be married, with all the responsibilities appertaining thereto, BEFORE ME! Am I neglecting my duty as an older brother? Should I set a shining example to my younger kin by taking a bride in hand? Is it right and proper for a 22 year-old male, and a healthy one I hope, to be set permanently in the wicked ways of bachelorhood? How long will it be before the whispering begins? You know the sort of thing I'm getting at: "Hey Doris, did you see Michael Rhodes in his pink socks?" And: "Isn't it queer, Doris, how he's always behind the bicycle sheds with his boy scouts?" &c. No doubt about it. If I'm still unattached by my 25th birthday I'll be branded homosexual for sure. Who knows though? The visit of Jacqui a week on Friday may trigger another romance that will outshine the one with the late Miss Mather, or even Carole. We'll see anyway.

-=-

Friday August 19, 1977

The alarm clock sounded at something in the region of 6.30am and I felt quite awake and ready for action. Mum climbed out of bed and made sure I was on my feet and then returned to her boudoir wishing me bon voyage and 'God speed', &c. I got a bus at about 7.30 and arrived in a damp, cold Leeds at 8. I purchased a copy of the Daily Telegraph and a few packs of chewing gum, boarded the coach and pair and was soon off on the road south to the heart of this Empire of ours.

Changing the Guard ....

London was somewhat damper than Leeds but my spirits were high (amongst other things) due to the attention paid to me by a female fellow traveller clad in not much more than an engagement ring. A stunning beauty indeed. However, at Victoria Coach Station attempting to rid myself of a mouthful of chewing gum my hand slipped and I glued myself to the middle section of my Daily Telegraph. I met Jacqui in something of a messy state.

We passed a couple of hours laughing in a pub over the road. She says her Dad is the financial director of Ladbroke's. Blimey, are the Sate's landed gentry do you think? We went from the pub to Buckingham Palace and the Queen's Gallery, and then walked back to Regent Street, Leicester Square and all those frightfully interesting places on the Monopoly board. Saw a bit of Soho too.

Jacqui and I parted at about 4.30 and I passed some time reflecting on the young lady in question in the damp, pigeon-laden Trafalgar Square. She's having a party in October which sounds very promising indeed. Won't miss that.

Tony was late and we didn't meet until nearly 8pm. He'd had a rotten day and his superiors had mucked him about. We got to Bognor in heavy rain at 10 and I was introduced to Mr & Mrs Brotherwood. exceptionally nice people. Mrs B is something of a chatter-box and says that Tony inherited his 'gift of the gab' from her. I felt sick with tiredness and want nothing but sleep. Bed at about 12.

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Monday August 1, 1977

Bank Holiday in Scotland and Irish Republic. Went to the Leeds Greyhound Stadium tonight with David L, MM and Marita. We didn't do too bad and after a couple of hours good fun we left with virtually the same amount of money that we started with. Nice to be out with David again. __________.

To the dogs ..

Following our moderate success at the dogs we went and spent our winnings in some distant, nameless ale-house. Ate pork pies and mushy peas by the plateful. Hardly the sort of nourishment for weight-watchers eh? Home at approx. eleven.

-=-

Monday July 4, 1977

Lynn wakes me at 7.30 thinking I'm in the office today but the weather was so nice I decided to stay up and take it all in. With the breakfast things cleared away Susan and I leaped out into the sun where we basked until lunchtime. At lunch Mum says John has been acting strangely and has demanded that the money I owe re Maria's catalogue be delivered to him this afternoon. He said something to the effect that "Michael never pays up on time". __________________________.

Self: scalped ...

Went to Leeds where I was scalped. The shortest haircut I have had in years. 82F reads the YP thermometer too. Bloody hideous heat. From Leeds I went to Bradford for 5 o'clock and met Martyn and WH Smith's. We went to see Denise and I told her about Carole. She enquires: "Do you like her again now?" Like her? I positively loathe her at this moment and wouldn't speak to her again but for the fact she has one of my better shirts in her collection. Denise didn't seem overjoyed to see us.

Martyn and I adjourned to 'The Queen' for a few much needed lagers and then got the bus home. My visit to Bradford wasn't all that necessary but I enjoyed it all the same. I'm going to phone Miss Phillips tomorrow and give her a large piece of my mind. At this moment in time I could make Jack the Ripper look like Joyce Grenfell.

-=-

Friday May 13, 1977

I have reverted to my faithful old pen. Yes, it is Friday the Thirteenth. Pouring with rain when Mama wakes me at 10 o'clock to say she's been into the office but has returned because she feels unwell. She keeps dashing to the toilet - urine problem. She's wearing a path from her boudoir to the smallest room. (I realise it's probably indelicate to discuss such things here and it's quite abominable of me to record it for posterity, but I haven't much else to say).

Uncle Bert: diarrhoea

Walk into Guiseley with umberella and collect medicine for Motherdear and pay a social call on the Guiseley branch of the West Yorkshire Police force. Also went to the bank for £30 which boosts my holiday money up to £100.

Make lunch for Dad and I and Mum announces that Uncle Bert is coming tonight for the weekend. I don't believe I've seen him since Christmas 1973. Of course he's had a leg off since then and his other one isn't all that good. Oh My God, he's on a dismal decline at only 50.

Dad and I go to Leeds at 6 o'clock and pick up Uncle (Bert) at Quarry Hill flats for some reason. He is unrecognisable. Old isn't the word. I almost die laughing when Dad asks him how he is. "I have had diarrhoea" comes the reply, "and so on Wednesday I decided to take a couple of days off in lieu". No one but me found it funny.

Chris and Pete came at 8.30 and stood on the drive admiring John's new car. I am alarmed that Peter can pretend that Tuesday's conversation never took place. I am extremely cool with him ____________.

Tony and Martyn come and we go to the Bod and the Hare and Hounds at Heaton. Michelle and Co join us. I like Michelle immensely - so sweet and nice. In the Bod I told Pete to 'piss off'._________.

With Tony and Martyn to the Il Trovatore. Thoroughly boring.

-=-

Wednesday December 22, 1976

At lunchtime I go to 'Just Pants' in Leeds and lay hands on a white shirt and a red tie. Took a half day today and so at 1 o'clock I'm hurtling back to Guiseley, courtesy of West Yorkshire Road Car Co Ltd. Alight from the omnibus at 1.30 and go see Maria and the baby. On my arrival there I find Miss Phillips discussing the ins and outs of everyday things women normally discuss and I end up staying for two hours. My first conversation [with Carole] of any length - or pleasant one at any rate - since May. What more can I say? It's too daft for words, and besides, I've said it all before.

Home at 4pm and prepare for the onslaught. Martyn comes at 6.45 and Dad gives us a lift into Guiseley. By 7.30 we're at Delia's where we have a good laugh and a few tubes of lager. Chris and Peter come at 8.15 and we go out for a bus. No bus arrived until 9 o'clock. Kathleen, Carol J and Marilyn get on the bus at the Old Ball and we all head for Salvo's. Monica joins us there. The lads take one table, and the girls [like Vestal Virgins] share another. It's going to be one of those nights. We all get more than merry and the bus journey [yet another one] to the city centre was one of hysteria. The Nouveau was horrific - completely dead, and so we went by taxi to [Cinderalla] Rockerfella's. Not a particularly enjoyable evening. I was sober as a judge at midnight and we all stood around looking quite miserable at one another. Pete, Martyn, Chris and I went for a taxi at 2am and waited an hour. A car came driving past us & a naked woman passenger had her bum hanging from a window. Hilarious sight! Martyn and I get home for 3.30. Go to bed in a shagged out condition.

-==-

Wednesday December 15, 1976

It's 11.45pm and I'm sat here on the end of my bed watching blood ooze out of my right big toenail. Oh God I'm going to be a cripple by Christmas! However, discussing my personal injuries isn't going to get me into print and so I'll move on to more spectacular, seasonal events:

Mrs Johnson received the news of Mr Brotherwood's intended attendance next Wednesday with mixed emotions. At first she said she wouldn't be worried by his presence and in the next breath she said it may be a traumatic meeting. By 4.30 she was saying it wouldn't hurt if he did join us but her expression was far from ecstatic. I shall have to tell Tony it might be wiser if he boycotted the gathering.

Sarah and Eileen said today that Mrs J is beginning to take a fancy to me after all these years. I've always said that Carol must think I'm queer or something because every other male employee of the YP - possibly with the exception of me and the Hon Chris Monckton- have been seduced by Mrs Johnson. Am I now moving close to becoming a conquest?

The business of next Wednesday is worrying but I should ignore it and let them fight it out amongst themselves.

Saw June on the 33 bus again. She is great and I must still be greatly intrigued by her because for the first time in months I didn't fall to sleep on the journey and my eyes were rivetted to her throughout.

Just Susan, Peter and myself in until Papa and Mama come back from John & Maria's at 10 o'clock. See 'Carry On Loving' - rude, corny and poor but I laugh all the same. Up to bed after seeing a declining Earl Mountbatten of Burma present Danny La Rue with the BBC Sportsman of the Year Award. The 76 year-old Earl told a story of how a polo pony he was riding [in India in 1922] had a polo ball lodged up its anus. It went down very well.

-==-

Thursday December 9, 1976

A weird day. Dad and I go down the lane at 7.30 in freezing circumstances expecting to get a lift with Jim. I have to tell you now that no lift arrived. By 8o'clock we were poised at the bus stop ready for action and to make matters worse, no bus arrived either. Frozen solid we were by 8.30 when a ruddy cart eventually turned up to take us to Leeds. Black ice and 45 minutes later I was at the YP. One and a half hours on the road!

Had lunch at the Central with Dad [he's on a course] and a work colleague of his called John. Good laugh.

Meanwhile: That night: Lynne comes up for a meal at 6.30, early for her, and we're both in jovial mood. After 'Top of the Pops' we decide to attend the cinema. Go to Headingley and see Margaux Hemingway in 'Lipstick', a tale of rape and vengeance. Very good it was too. However, the highlight of the night came afterwards in the carpark. Whilst negotiating a reverse in treacherous conditions Lynne had the misfortune to collide with another vehicle. It was doubly unfortunate that the incumbent of the bereaved motor car happened to be of Oriental origin - a Jap to be precise. The gentleman couldn't speak a word of the Queen's English. The usual exchange of names and addresses took place - written on a crumpled cinema ticket, and we parted ways and disappeared into the night. I have only just forgiven them for Pearl Harbour. I laughed all the way home. Lynne saw the lighter side after a while.

Saturday December 4, 1976

Wake up at 10.30 to what must be one of the coldest days I've yet experienced. And you know how I rarely moan about the weather. Bloody freezing! Hangover.

Lynne is harping on about going to Leeds which doesn't instill much excitement in one at all really, and the radio announcing a further drop in the pound due to the death of Benjamin Britten only makes matters worse. Almost as if by an act of God we find her car is incapacitated. I, being the only other resident in the house can of course do nothing to assist and so we have to await the return of Papa from the Cash and Carry at 12.40. He diagnoses battery bother and I suggest we go straight to Thornton-le-Dale without a moment's hesitation. This we do harrassed by snow storms as we passed through York. The journey proved uneventful other than a slight encounter nay skirmish with revolting peasants in Malton, which was soon quelled.

Nothing astounding to report at the Mather residence. Lynne and I go to Pickering for a few drinks and return at 11. Endure one of Michael Parkinson's revolting interviews. The man is obsessed about sex. He doesn't even draw the line at human copulation either. Apes, plankton, they all come under his perverted scrutiny. Bed at 12.30 - 1am after enduring 'Pomp & Circumstance' with Peter and Sir Edward Elgar. He is awfully sarcastic about ___________________ and insists he wants to venture to 'better places than Ibiza' next year. I'm going to San Antonio whether they're interested or not. Martyn must be made to see my point of view.

-==-

Tuesday November 30, 1976

Lynne came up last night at 9 o'clock, stayed 10 minutes and refused to take off her coat. Cold and efficient to be sure. [She] goes off saying she won't be seeing me until Friday night because she's going out for a meal with a girlfriend tonight, going home tomorrow, and going to an office furniture exhibition on Thursday. Mum says we must be 'cooling off' but I can't see why she thinks that way. However, I'm not going to complain. Nobody loves freedom more than me. I wonder what Paulette is doing now? Does she go out midweek? God, you're only young once, Michael. A bit of lechery won't go amiss.

Decide whilst travelling to work that I would like a half-day. Kathleen arrives in a hell of a state [pneumonia], but I don't let that deter me from leaving early. Sarah isn't in. Upset stomach or something. A bloody cold day. March into town and see an eye-catching pair of trousers which may be mine shortly. Otherwise see nothing of interest. Christmas trees are protruding over Commercial Street as though it's an alpine forest, no doubt to make Santa Claus in Lewis's feel more at home.

Arrive home at 2 o'clock and spend a boring afternoon doing absolutely sweet sod all. Marita rings at 5.15 to see if I want to go to the Red Lion at Shadwell with her, MM, Chris and Denny. I say no because I'm going out with Tony. She says: 'Can't you put him off and come with us?' She was startled when I declined her generous offer. I'm afraid not, Marita. It's first come, first served. She asked me not to mention to Tony that Denise would be at the Red Lion tonight. I will bide with Miss Fountain's wishes on this matter. __________________________. The Battle of the Somme must have been a tea party in comparison.

Telephone Miss Mather and learn nothing much to my advantage. She's dining out tonight of course. Mum thinks she's got another man. Good for Lynne!

Help Papa put the freezer in place in the garage. Tony arrives at 8.30. We spend the whole evening at the Hare & Hounds. Horribly sad really but I get a lot 'off my chest'. Talk about Carole mainly. He goes out of his way to say what a different girl she is since I went out with her. He, being in a similar position to Miss C, sticks up for her through thick and thin. When he saw her last week he says she just went on and on about me not sending her a birthday card. Oh God. I'm so mixed up about everything. I'm like a child. One thing is certain. I cannot go out with Lynne much longer. I think I just want to be alone.

-==-

Wednesday June 16, 1976

Take a half day. Meet Marita and Denise in Leeds at 12.30 and go to Parker's (Wine Bar). Have a Scotch egg which cost me 35p and a pint of lager. Thirty-five pence for a solitary boiled egg wrapped in sausage meat! Poor Marita is compelled to return to work at 1.30 & Miss Akroyd and myself purchased a bottle of wine and sat for another hour or so. Marilyn (Wheeler) was in with a woman I presumed to be her mother and I could see her looking at Denise. No doubt she'll be reporting to Mrs Johnson tonight.

Denise and I chat about very little really. Feel bored and tired. She says she is taking her mother to the Canary Islands on July 11, and not going away with Carole after all. Plans were well underway, but Miss Phillips rang her yesterday to say she couldn't get the same holiday dates as Denise after all. They're off to the Edwardian Club to a 21st (birthday party) on Friday night. I nearly vomit at the mention of the place. What is more, Carole's told Denise that it's a 'classy' discotheque! Get home at 5.30 and eat a hearty meal. Blimey, I forgot to mention that after we left Parker's we ventured into the city museum and art gallery for a couple of hours. Cultured buggers, we are.

Chris rings at 6.30 to see if I'm going out and I say yes. Lynne isn't out but I'll ring her tomorrow to see if she can fit me in on Saturday. Write her a letter and go put it in her hands when Chris and I go collect Pete. Go to the Scott's Arms and the Three Legs at Wetherby. Chris tells me he is madly in love with Denise and would do anything for her - even marriage! God Almighty! It's just like been seventeen all over again!

-==-

Wednesday December 17, 1975

A bit of a Royal day in Leeds today. Sarah, Eileen, Carol and I went up to the Queen's Hotel to see the arrival of the Prince of Wales at 12.20 this afternoon. It was a biting cold day and everyone in the crowd looked perished.

The prince dashed out of his Rolls Royce and fled up the red carpeted steps of the hotel with some speed and those in the crowd who were not perhaps on form may well have missed seeing him altogether. Sarah says he looks tiny and thin - something of a puny prince. He's about 5ft 8ins I think, which is quite average really.

I had to laugh at The Times this morning. An article concerninhg the love letters between Sir John French, commander-in-chief of the Army in the 1914-18 war, and his mistress, was topped with the headline 'FRENCH LETTERS SCANDAL'. Makes it sound like some court case involving a Durex swindle. I laughed for hours.


-==-

Saturday December 6, 1975

Woke up feeling quite chirpy really, considering.

Hear on the news that Leeds was razed to the ground by a mysterious 'Great Fire' last night. I suppose it's a blessing really, because at least it will stop the horrible plague, wot's been going on lately. However, in the absence of Christopher Wren, Basil Spence is going to design a lovely new town for us, and so it's all turned out well worth-while in the end.

Also hear on the news that Lynn is going to marry the Prince of Wales. She'll have to embrace the Anglican faith and change her name to Mary or Elizabeth, but it can be done quite cheaply these days. She won't be 'Princess Lynn' but the Queen will authorise her to use the 'HRH'.

Sit with Dave in the lounge while the princess and Carole sleep. Mum and Dad go out somewhere and we sit like loonies waiting for the girls to move. They are up and around after 12 and I'm surprised to see the princess looking so cheery.

Another trip this evening. Meet in the Hare & Hounds at 8.45 and attempt to persuade complete strangers to come along with us on a coach to far-off York. In the end we have 26 or so on a 41 seater coach. It looks bloody empty but we only pay £1.40 each in the end. At York we're in the Cat's Whiskers which is rough and double-rough. Sluts and tarts are in every corner and I've seen better looking brothels. I'm too tired to even laugh and I stand all the time because if I sit down I'll certainly pass out under the table.

We leave at 2am and everyone sleeps on the coach home.

-==-

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.

-==-

Thursday December 4, 1975

Today marks the start of a hectic social spree which won't end until Sunday morning. The thought is positively daunting, but we are all young and healthy and should manage to come through it all right.

Meet CB at the Ostlers at lunchtime. She says that Philip is taking her to a restaurant in Tingley on Saturday and then they are going to Cinderella's. She wants him back now, nearly a year since they finished. God only knows what the end will be as far as Christine and Philip are concerned.

Home at 5.30 and leap into the bath immediately. Carole arrives for tea at 6.15 and Dave arrives soon after. Mum manages to get Carole to devour a sandwich or two - a rare thing indeed. She ought to get the George Cross or something for that.

Dave drives us down to Bradford at 7.15 and we meet Martyn and his cronies near the coach. Drive to Leeds and get in the Hofbrauhaus by 8pm. The four of us get a table together and fall straight into the spirit of the thing. The jugs of lager were 70p a time - but the glasses were bigger than one and a half pints. Even Carole and Lynn drank them! Lynn and David managed to get a waitress the sack after they reported her for over-charging. She came crawling round the table with tears streaming down her face, begging forgiveness, but we went on drinking undaunted by her constant grovelling. I somehow managed to spill a full glass of beer over an innocent by-stander, but bought him one by way of compensation. I didn't actually become intoxicated but could have done so if the place had stayed open for a further half hour. Carole remained sober, as did Lynn and Dave. We left at about 11 and came back to Bradford on the coach. Dave then brought Lynn, Carole, Martyn and me back up home.


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Tuesday November 25, 1975

She came today. The Duchess of Kent that is. I had a marvellous view of the spectacle and was in the reception lobby when she arrived. She dashed in through the main door and the managing director and his cronies fell upon her like a pack of wolves. She was quite nice about it though, and came through it unruffled.

Carol J and I were on the front line and when HRH started her 'walk about' we were in direct line of fire. She came straight for me and I went weak at the knees. Carol was squealing with a mixture of terror and delight. She decided not to question me, but bombarded one of the little joiners. She couldn't have stood much nearer to me if she'd tried. So slim, blond and attractive. I have quite fallen for her. What's more, Carol says we are on at least four photographs with her. Fame at last! Photographed with the only daughter of a Yorkshire baronet who just happened to marry the shy, little cousin of Elizabeth Windsor. Who'd have thought it? Oh, if my grandmother could see me now. Aaargh. It's all too bloody much.

Meanwhile, back to reality. How at the usual time for the usual tea with the usual people. Mum says she'll tell everyone at work that I've captured the heart of a duchess. Let's not over do it, Mother.

Ring Carole who's at Maria's place. At 8.30 we go for a walk in the rain round Tranmere. Arguing again. We mean no ill will by these attacks on one another, but I somehow can't help it. She brings out my devilish, argumentative nature.

Carole is a Scorpio, which probably accounts for our fiery relationship.

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