Monday May 15, 1978

Moon's first quarter 08:40

(It's 7:45pm) Lynn is downstairs playing a nauseating Frank Sinatra LP on the record player. Don't get me wrong, Frank is no monster or gargoyle, but actually purchasing one of his LPs is something I could never do. I think it mirrors Lynn's frame of mind at this time, the close of her free existence and passing youth. No doubt Frank will be at the forefront of her 'record playing' list when she's 30, or even 40. Her character is now moulded and cast and I foresee no drastic alterations in the coming years. When she's a little, old lady in 50 years time I do suppose she won't have changed one bit. Oh dear. Frank's OK, but long live James Brown, Wild Cherry, Judge Dread, the Sex Pistols, Debbie Harry, Ian Dury, and Bianca Jagger.

Thursday May 4, 1978

Ascension Day ~ Holy Thursday

A wet, deluged day. At 4pm I was in the predicament of having no transport (at least until a train at 5:17) and so Sarah ferried me to the polling station at Hawksworth where I cast my vote for Willie Hudson, the current Lord Mayor. The rain will ensure that the Conservatives are re-elected (Council elections).

At 5 we went back to Sarah's where we had haddock flan for tea with Delia and Granny Ireson. Bill Collis was in residence but he said very little. We discussed Llandudno (of all places) and he advised me never to venture into Wales, adding with emphasis: 'it isn't worth it.'

It is incredible just how incompatible Delia, Bill, Sarah and family are together.They'd all kill one another without a minutes hesitation if it wasn't for the fact it's so convenient for them to carry on under the same roof. ________.

Delia remains at the top of my favourite 'Ladies Over 45' list. From this lofty height she will never fall.

I cancelled a dental appointment scheduled for this evening to sample a slice of Delia's 'nice piece of haddock' (bought in case you're interested at Cowley's fishmongers in Headingley).

At 8, Sarah, Delia, Mrs Whittington (yes, "Turn again, Dick" and all that)went to the pub in Wetherby where we had a riot last September after the 'do' at Harewood House.

Home, very sober, at 11 to find the whole house in uproarious, drunken revelry. The Nasons, Edith & Ernest, David B's Uncle Tony (Baker) from Nigeria, and a very drunken Lynn.

Bed at 4am after listening to records using the headphones.

-=-

Wednesday May 3, 1978

You won't believe this but today we actually experienced sunshine. At one point during the afternoon I was to be seen winding my way on foot from Rawdon to my home ~ without the benefit of waterproof garments of any kind and with only a thin woollen pullover to protect me from the elements. It was indeed a Spring day.

On the BBC 6 o'clock news Kenneth Kendall told us that Princess Margaret is in hospital with gastroentiritis, but no further information is forthcoming. Mum, suspicious as ever, asks me if I know exactly what is really wrong with Princess Margaret. She never believes anything she reads in the Press. She even suggests that Mr Llewellyn's exile to Morocco has caused HRH to make an attempt on her own life! This is unlikely. Princess Margaret and the Earl of Snowdon 'celebrate' 18 years of marriage on Saturday. I do feel sorry for her and the hellish two or three years she's experienced and my advice to the royal lady is get off to North Africa and legalise things with Roddy and tell this feeble country of ours to stuff their £50,000 per annum. Frankly, we don't deserve you, Margaret.

This evening I cut all the lawns (with a lawn mower of course) and then watched the tv until it exploded. My volume of Pepys was upstairs and I was so lazy I couldn't be bothered to go upstairs and bring it down.

Lynn came in at about 9. She's ill again. The poor girl is forever plagued with sickness, tummy aches, constipation, &c, and the doctor seems unable to do anything about it. It worries Mum a good deal. I told Lynn to eat prunes but nobody ever listens to my advice. A great deal of profitable, useful and highly informed information of mine is currently floating around in the atmosphere. Given time I do suppose that some alien power will pick up my signals and make radio contact.

Retire to Pepys, bed and sanity at 12:35am.

-=-

Sunday April 30, 1978

5th Sunday after Easter

Rogation Sunday

A wet and windy day. Jacq came after luncheon in the monsoon that ravaged and intimidated the locality today. Mum and Dad were visiting Mexborough. Sue and Pete were playing squash at Shipley, and of course Lynn & Dave were at Burley ~ and so just the two of us at home.

We watched a film starring Robert Donat followed by one starring George Cole. I fell into a coma while Jacq watched the BBC drama 'Lorna Doone'.

Lynn and Dave returned for tea and the four of us had salad (minus the mayonnaise) which made me shed tears for the millions of desperate rabbits who, every day, have to devour tons of ghastly lettuce without the benefit of that all-smothering liquid commonly called salad cream. No bloody wonder our furry, buck teethed friends pack up and die after six or seven miserable years.

Tonight we watched the first in a series on the Plantagenet kings which began with King Henry II and Eleanor of Aquitaine. I enjoyed it, if nobody else did. Later on BBC2 saw a documentary on Jessica Mitford, Lord Redesdale's rebel daughter, which was excellent. Her sisters are Unity (deceased playmate of Hitler), Nancy (the authoress), Deborah (Duchess of Devonshire) and an obscure Pamela.

Bed at 1am - ish. Read a bit of Pepys.

-=-

Saturday April 15, 1978

Moon's first quarter 14:56

Sun rises 06:06

Sun sets 19:57

Quite revolting. What words can adequately describe the horror of a furry tongue, and eye balls like mushy peas in a sea of blood? My throat resembled the floor of the Black Hole of Calcutta. To make matters worse Jacq and I were compelled to walk to within one mile of Burley-in-Wharfedale in blazing sunshine, to suffer the agony of scraping walls, helping to demolish walls, and such like for almost eight hours. No Jew in any of the luxurious Russian labour camps can ever have suffered like poor Jacq and I did. And all this for no reward of any kind. Truly, we did a great Christian thing this day. "To labour and not to ask for any reward save that of knowing we do thy will ~ Amen".

At about 12 Jacq and I took a lunch break and devoured fish and chips and supped one meagre drink in the Red Lion. We laughed a good deal because we were so exhausted and couldn't stop ourselves.

Back at Lawn Road we were joined by John who talked a good deal of mumbo jumbo with David. At 5 my dear brother brought Jacq and I home. He's lending me a suit for Gina's wedding next week.

Peter, yes Peter Nason, made pork chops, &c for dinner, and we all ate at about 6pm. I almost fell to sleep across the table.

Jacq and I went down to the bus stop with every intention of going into Leeds to watch 'Close Encounters of a Third Kind' at the Odeon cinema. We stood for an hour an no omnibus came and so once again we had to resort to consuming booze. The Yorkshire Rose, our first port of call, then on foot to Yeadon and the Clothiers. We had a quick dash round Yeadon Fair, which was ridiculously muddy, before heading down Henshaws Lane to the Woolpack Inn.


The Woolpack.

A couple of drinks later we decided to call it a day. Neither of us had been bounding around with joy and a lifeless expression hung over our gaunt features. At about 10:30 Jacq got a Leeds bus and I walked home. It was a pleasant evening and I bounded home under the twinkling stars.

-=-

Sunday March 26, 1978

Easter Day

Dave and Lynn at Lawn Road.

Spent the day with Sue, Pete, Lynn and Dave at Lawn Road tearing ancient wallpaper from ancient walls. Lynn was in her seventh heaven. After all, it's now all her very own filthy old wallpaper. Back home for 3 or 4 to be joined by John, Maria and their wonderful offspring. I saw JPH walk for the first time. His face showed so much pride as he paced over the lounge. Marvellous. I'd like ten just like him. A good lunch. Afterwards I heaped myself in front of the TV. 'Love Story' with Ali McGraw and Ryan O'Neal (again). A real weepy. I didn't get a Easter Egg to-day.

-=-

Saturday March 11, 1978

Sun rises 6:25 Sun sets 17:58

Bright sunny day. Lynn woke me at 10:30 to inform me that I was escorting her, on foot, to Yeadon to do some shopping. This was no ideal awakening my any means. I was out of bed by 11 and within minutes I was pouring a glass of beer for Ernest and glass of wine for Edith.

Yeadon.

Shortly afterwards to Yeadon with Lynn. The day was warm and we laughed and chatted on the way down the open road. We were home for 3pm weighed down with shopping. Lynn's feet were blistered and my hands were bright pink. And, dear friends, that was my day. Yes, it does seem pathetically short and mundane, but I cannot be expected to carry out earth shattering, spectacular feats of brilliance all the time. Perhaps you can look in tomorrow?  Oh, go on then I'll just say a bit more.

Mama and Papa went out for dinner and Sue, Pete, Chippy and girlfriend went off to Appletreewick at tea time supposedly 'camping'. Not much of the countryside will be seen if I know anything of my sweet sister. The pleasures of the flesh are nearer the top of her priorities than river side walks, but at 18 and with her great beauty, I cannot blame her.

Lynn, Dave and I dined by candlelight together (do you think that perhaps my presence was not welcome?) and afterwards we sat looking at the television. Boring.

To bed with 'The Man in the Iron Mask' but fell asleep after two pages. In fact, a clapped out old French duchess hadn't even finished talking to a bloke named after that nice brand of aftershave lotion ... er, Ah yes, Aramis.

-=-

Tuesday March 7, 1978

_.A revolting thing has occurred. At 8:00am David and I set out to Leeds. (He had stayed the night). We were in the car and David glanced into the back and said: 'Oh, I've left my briefcase in the house'. But, sadly, he hadn't. A search of the premises found no briefcase anywhere, and we drew the conclusion that the thing had been stolen from his car, which had been unlocked all bloody night. David had left £100 in cash in the briefcase, which had been behind the passenger seat. He'd forgotten that he'd left money in it. How ridiculous, and so unlike David. Of course, Lynn had hysterics and Dad leapt from his bed to begin his line of enquiries. Some criminal will be laughing all the way to the bank. I feel sorry for Lynn and Dave who need every penny they can lay their hands on these days.

At home tonight I was confronted by four or five long, pale faces. Quite a contrast to the gaiety of last night.

-=-

Monday March 6, 1978

Lynn's 20th birthday. She came, like a radiant angel, to grimy Leeds, bring a refreshing air to my Monday lunchtime. With Dave, John P, and Alison, we took refreshment at Parker's wine bar and they later called in at the YP to stir up mass hysteria amongst the staff.

Alison and John haven't heard of the latest 'Ripper' who roams the streets of Leeds, but then I don't suppose it matters to people in far off Hampshire, or which ever county it is they hail from. Very little work was done and Sarah and I entertained them until 4.

This evening John, Maria and JPH came up to see us. I fact it was a birthday celebration for Lynn and Mum cooked for 10 people. Roast turkey followed by strawberries and cream washed away with gallons of wine took us to 'playing out' time at the dreaded Fox.

After dinner Tony and Martyn paid us a visit with a birthday card for Lynn. __________. At 9 we all went to the Fox. Joined by Miss Dibb and Graham Airey. Just like old times. Back home at 11 and JPH entertained us until after 12.

-=-

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.

-=-

Monday January 9, 1978

New Moon 04.00

Windy, wet, but bright. No news of my future in the YTV world, but I didn't really expect any communication so early. Bored to death at the YP - they got on my nerves today, even Sarah. Mind you, Sarah and I regularly have our differences of opinion which don't come to much. After all the girl is a Scorpio and I am Aries, so what do you expect?

Lynn and Dave have bought (I think) a home at 7, Lawn Road, Burley in Wharfedale. It cost £8,200 or something in that region. Lynn is over the Moon about it, but she says it needs about £1,000 spending on it by way of repairs and general improvements. My little sister purchasing property! Won't things be quiet when September rolls up? Lynn makes one Hell of a racket at home and I fear the house will be like a cathedral without her. Lawn Road is a stone's throw from cousin Dorothy's ale house at the White Horse.

Dave G phoned. They may be over on Saturday from Stockport, but I shudder at the very thought because I have no money. It may mean me attacking the funds in the Lynn and David honeymoon kitty in order to make ends meet. Oh God, where am I going to get the money for a deposit for the holiday? Sod it.

-=-

Monday December 12, 1977

Clementine Spencer-Churchill went off from this world to join Winston this afternoon. The old bird died of a heart attack at the age of 92. This item proved to be the dominant feature on the 6 o'clock news because the BBC is tiring of the firemens' strike and the procrastinations of Mr Wedgwood Benn. I must write to Judith. She loves to talk about Winnie and Clem.

Clementine: went to join Winston.

Work was carried out in the usual fashion. Sarah is back in action, and so is Eileen, who's been off since God knows when.

At home we had the traditional family bust up over the erection of the Christmas tree. I told Lynn where she could stick the tinsel, and dear Mother became quite heated. Susan even threatened to go out until we had all calmed down. Papa took leave of his senses. It was horrific and as is always the case, I lost on all counts. In any crisis the family always sticks together to attack me violently. Mum thinks the sun shines out of Lynn's arse, which I don't mind in the least, but I do object when the collective fury, wrath - call it what you will - is flung at me. However, as eldest child I suppose it's quite natural that I should be the scapegoat. Just like the relationship between the Hanoverian kings and successive Princes of Wales for instance? Clement Freud's grandad no doubt knew all about this psychological phenomena.

It is now several hours since the 'Great Christmas Tree Bust Up' and I wish to re-assess the situation. I was most certainly not defeated in the battle. Dad just attempted to give Lynn and I a piece of his mind about the outburst of childish bickering and I discovered a certain eloquence that has laid dormant since my school debating days. I retired to bed feeling like Sir Winston Churchill. The funny thing about it all is that Lynn and I laughed ourselves stupid afterwards, and we caused the whole rift in the first place. It got to the situation where we just couldn't look at each other without dissolving.

-=-

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.

-=-

Sunday November 27, 1977

Advent Sunday. My eyes were opened to the principal bedroom of the Ratcliffe residence and Mr Mather's gaping mouth and Mantovani on the stereo playing 'Greensleeves' and then 'My Love is Like a Deep Red Rose'. All very nauseating. Peter George Mather, Esq is indeed a weird bundle of male. His eccentricities are numerous:

1). He persists in the wearing of the article of underclothing known as the VEST.
2). He wears his hair in the style of a lieutenant in Princess Patricia's Own Right Knee and Underskirt Regiment.
3). His bizarre musical tastes not only feature Mantovani and Max Jaffa, but Pearl Carr and Teddy Johnson and Des O'Connor, &c.
4). His choice of footwear is indescribable.
5). His overall appearance is that of a 1958 bank clerk.
6). Sexually, he's a three year-old.
7). Sexually, he thinks he's a combination of Ryan O'Neal, Casanova, Mick Jagger, the Sex Pistols and Erroll Flynn.
8). He enjoys those archaic boys 'comics' like Hotspur.
9). Everybody's mother simply adores him.
10). If he'd been born American Mrs Edith Blackwell would campaign to have him elected president.

Peter: 1958 bank clerk.

Peter drove me home at 1:30. Shortly afterwards I went with Lynn, Mum and Dad to look at 34, Town Street, Guiseley, which is for sale. A poky, tiny little place but very 'country cottage with roses round the door' type of place. David is, I think, going to 'make an offer for it' as they say in the house buying business.

Back for luncheon and then collapsed in a chair by the fire with my knees firmly under the television set. The series 'Royal Heritage' featured George IV. Later, a Phyllis Diller film.

To bed at 12:00 with 'The Count of Monte Cristo'. Bloody Hell, I expect a visit any day from Alexandre Dumas to fill me in on where I'm missing the point. Oh, hang on, there goes the doorbell. He's here now. Come in, Alex! Sit down and take the weight off your Three Musketeers.

-=-

Saturday November 19, 1977

Just Susan and I closeted together for most of the day. I got out of bed at noon with a crashing hangover. For four or five hours I reclined on the sofa with a pained expression on my pale, ghastly face. Lynn went off to a wedding after lunch saying I am a disgusting specimen. She doesn't realise that we bachelors have a hell of a life with tremendous responsibilities to hold and reputations to keep up. We can't just sit by the fireside on winter evenings with a good book, perhaps watching "Crossroads" on the TV. Oh no, we have to socialise on a nauseating scale taking in parties, orgies &c, consuming grotesque quantities of spirits, wine and ale in the process. My God it's absolute hell.

with Chippy .....

The BBC went on strike tonight. I remained at home - quite alone - all the same. I even endured 'Match of the Day' featuring Wrexham and Colchester. Then I watched a Vincent Price horror film entitled 'The Amazing Dr Phibes' (1971). Not bad really.

Sue, Pete and Chippy came at 11:30 and they looked thoroughly pissed. Probably because I'm sober. We opened a few bottles. Sue was dancing in the dining room. She and Pete slept in Mum's room and Chippy slept in Lynn's bed. I made a mug of cocoa and listened to the record player.

The Duchess of Gloucester gave birth to a daughter at 2:05pm today. Unlike poor Princess Anne's child (also born at St Mary's Hospital, Paddington) this latest arrival will take a title. She'll be Lady (Christian name) Windsor. I bet Elizabeth is near the top of the list.

-=-

Saturday October 1, 1977

One of the most blank parties I've ever attended took place this evening ... or at least I think it did. Anyway, I'd better begin at the beginning. At what seemed like the crack of dawn I was taken  off against my will, in pouring rain, to Bradford by Alison, John, Lynn and David. (Oh God. I failed to mention that Alison and John (Pinder) arrived late last night from the depths of darkest Hampshire). Oh, how it poured down.

We messed around for a while buying records and flash cubes for tonight, and then after a brief lapse of time we found solace in the nearest pub. From here we found the Bod, which was unbelievable. We were the only inhabitants of what usually is the busiest tavern in West Yorkshire. It was here where we squabbled about surnames. Lynn said that after her marriage she wouldn't mind being 'Lynn Rhodes-Baker'. This made David blow his top for some obscure reason, and banging his glass of ale on the table he yelled: "If you intend keeping that name after we are married you might as well not bother with a party tonight because I'll call the whole thing off". It took ages to calm him down. It was such a silly thing for us all to become argumentative about, but it was David's attitude that fed my niggling. Lynn was very annoyed.

At Esholt: Sarah,Peter,Sue,David,Lynn and John.

Back home by 4pm. I began drinking bilberry wine and continued to do so until Sarah arrived at about 7.45. I was under the impression that we all were indulging in this wondrous wine, but from reports told to me later, I discovered I had been the 'Lone Boozer'. Sarah's arrival I remember well. She looked divine. What happened next though I just don't know. We all went to the Commercial where I spilt lager over everyone and swore in a disgusting manner. Mum and Dad asked me to be a little quieter. My next memory is back at home smashing eggs in the kitchen and breaking my camera. Mum joined in the egg breaking and went to town sticking them down Peter's shirt.

Because of the mess I changed into David's Fred Perry shorts and then became enraptured with Sarah. We seemed to be quite alone in the dining room dancing to Donna Summer and ending with Rachmaninov's 2nd Piano concerto. _______. We kissed, Everyone else just seemed to fade away. God knows what state I was in. Normally it wouldn't concern me but for the presence of Mr & Mrs Henry Baker and family. Sarah stayed very late and I escorted her to her car when she left. I really do fancy her to death you know. It's been in my blood now for a couple of years or more. What about John Macmurray though? I am sure she fancies me - so why are we always pretending nothing exists? Why indeed.

-=-

Wednesday September 28, 1977

Lynn and Dave became engaged. He presented her with a ring at about 7.30 and then took her off to Flashman's for a feast. Before this, however, we put away three or four bottles of that champagne substitute which tastes even better than the real thing.

Rt Hon David Steel: cause of nausea.

Lynn looked sublimely happy and I am sure it was a great relief to poor David, who just wants to settle down without any hullabaloo. Mum, Dad and I put away a few lagers after Lynn & Dave had left and then opened the Pernod. They returned at about midnight and we continued with the celebration session. Lynn especially was somewhat pissed and confided in her fiance to feelings of nausea. I was in a similar position too, but it was not all down to alcohol. David Steel and the Liberal party conference on the BBC was the cause of my intermittent vomiting, which completely flattened the whole occasion.

I took quite a few photographs of the happy couple, and so too did David. He now refers to me as 'Our Kid' and I'm sure he'd really like me for a brother. His own brothers are very sober, serious young men.







-=-

Tuesday September 27, 1977

Not a particularly wild, passionate or even remotely exciting day. I sorted out Lynn and David's engagement announcement with the fat lady on the reception desk and if all goes to plan - which no doubt it will not - the historic announcement will appear on page 32 of the Yorkshire Evening Post tomorrow evening.

'Mr D.A. Baker
Miss L. Rhodes

The engagement is announced between David Andrew, second son of Mr & Mrs H.T. Baker, of Farthingstone, Old Pool Bank, Pool-in-Wharfedale, and Lynn, elder daughter of Mr & Mrs L. Rhodes, of Pine Tops, Hawksworth Lane, Guiseley, near Leeds.'

Evelyn Waugh.

Otherwise, it was all quiet on the Western Front. Continued reading 'Margaret: Princess who appears quite a lot in the Daily Express gossip column' by Willi Frischbender. Nothing new in it at all. Mum, who is also reading it, keeps saying: 'Thank God we didn't buy it'.

'Decline and Fall' by Evelyn Waugh gets better. What a remarkable mind that man had. The character of Paul Pennyfeather is excellent and everyone who reads the book will be drawn immediately to his side. He calls for so much sympathy. The innocence of the principal character too is wonderful. Oh why don't I just go to sleep?







-=-

Monday September 19, 1977

Lynn told me this morning that she and David bought an engagement ring on Saturday. _______. She looks very happy now. Thank God her future is secure.

Mum says that Derek and Jennifer's baby born on Sept 1 or 2nd  is to be called Paul Justin. Just thought I'd let you know in case Mr P.J. Myers is the current prime minister.

Starving peasants ....

The (national) bread strike finished tonight leaving many peasants dead or dying throughout the starving kingdom, not. No one would have guessed that a bakery strike was on at all. The news media have blown it out of proportion. One would think we were in 18th century France the way they've gone on. "Ma'am, the peasants are starving. They want bread." "Oh let them eat cream crackers".

What do you think about Margaret Thatcher's proposal for a referendum on trade unions should they ever get a future Conservative government over a barrel?  I'm not sure really. I was opposed to the 1975 EEC referendum, but cast my vote all the same. Reducing the authority of the Houses of Parliament can only result from such action, but then the destruction of parliament as we know it is on the cards anyway.

-=-

Sunday September 18, 1977

15th after Trinity. Felt incredibly revolting again. Mrs Glynn made Dave and I a massive, greasy but glorious breakfast, and at 12 we set out for what was for all intents and purposes, a walk. The brightness of the sun was hideous and we sought solace in a pub with a loud juke box and friendly barmaid, even though she was a bit rough. "I've been married four times but never divorced" she proudly told us as she pulled the Guinness and went on to say she'd thrown one of her wedding rings in the river Mersey and "one in the bloody river on the Isle of Man", which due to my lack of geographical knowledge remains anonymous. Don't we mix with a nice kind of woman?

Dave G.

Dave says he thinks we are going to have a wedding in the family and so I just could not contain myself and revealed all. He was jubilant and plans sending an hilarious card on Sept 28. He likes Lynn and Dave immensely and jokes about being on the top table at the wedding. It turned into another session and by 2pm we were marching back to the Hollywood canned yet again.

Roast lamb for lunch. Afterwards we slept in our armchairs. At 8pm he saw me off from Stockport Station for Manchester. Coach back to Leeds and home for 10.30. The family were watching TV and eating a Chinese meal. I felt half starved but nobody had thought to put some grub on one side for me. Disgusting treatment when I had been many miles away for the weekend.

Watched the expurgated version of 'Soldier Blue' on the BBC which was quite boring. I feel a cold coming on. Blocked head, nose, ears, &c.

-=-