Tuesday October 3, 1978

Sorry about the change of ink again (from red to black). I really am quite sick of the red mess that's dominated these pages since Lynne Mather's demise in February, 1977. I do feel that the time for celebration is over, don't you?

On the subject of my 'love life' _____________________________________.

Christine phoned this afternoon. She's exhausted and flat broke and suggested we postpone our meeting until a week on Thursday. I am very disappointed but agreed to this change of plan. Instead I shall go to the Shoulder (of Mutton) with Peter and the boys. Frank (Hall) was released from hospital with nothing but bruises so no doubt he'll be out to tell the tale.

Back to Christine: she sounded positively devilish on the telephone, so much so that my laughter and loud inuendo apparently brought the office to a standstill and Kathleen had to prod my in the spine and ask me to belt up after about 15 minutes.

Saw "Roots" tonight. Later heard the Prime Minister speaking at his party conference in sunny Blackpool. He really is becoming quite an orator in his old age. But this 5 per cent pay increase limit just leaves me cold. I need an increase of about 105 per cent to bring me into the basic living wage brigade.

Callaghan should have been having a general election this week instead of mucking around at the seaside. This long drawn out farewell can't be doing any of us any good.

To bed at 11:56pm with Adolf Hitler.

-=-

Tuesday June 13, 1978

Moon's first quarter 23:44

St Barnabas (transference)

I made Dave L a birthday card today and had to wait outside next to the post box this evening holding it my hand (as well as the card) to hand it to the postman because it was too large to insert in the box. The card, made by me, has a glossy, headscarf clad photo of the smiling Queen (taken at Badminton in April) on the front. I also compiled a little verse inside. It should amuse David anyway, and one thing's fore sure ~ he won't have a duplicate of this on his doormat tomorrow morning.

Today is Lynne Mather's 21st.


To Lynne, on this, your coming of Age


O' Lynne Mather, it's your birthday once more,
And it only seems yesterday that you were four,
With big glowing teeth, and glossy hair,
you don't resemble a mountain bear.

Oh no, tis something more regal and fine,
a good Regency chair or an old gold mine?

A description of you cannot be penned,
Unless by Byron, Wordsworth and friends,
For the likes of you, will always be,
Nasty and Monstrous and crooked of knee.

-=-

Wednesday May 31, 1978

Sat in the garden ~ wearing only my shorts ~ compiling this journal today. It has been another 'scorcher'.

Sarah and I went to Parker's (wine bar) at lunchtime. She bought me three or four pints and we discussed taking our 'concubines' out on Saturday in what will be an onslaught on Harrogate. Sarah and I haven't formed a foursome since Aug 1976 when we went out with Peter (Baker) and Lynne Mather.

A hot sticky afternoon filing portraits. You can imagine what bliss it was to sit in my deckchair with a heddy summer breeze blowing round my knees.

Also contacted Jacq who is burnt to a cinder after sprawling in the park all day yesterday. She says she's not eating this weekend.

Uncle Peter's daughter, Julie, is coming to stay with us on Saturday for what's left of the weekend. Peter's children are good kids.

This evening I took a layer off the lawns.

Prince Michael of Kent and Marie-Christine Troubridge have become engaged. The Queen consented in Privy Council this afternoon to her cousin's marriage with a Czech-born Roman Catholic with one ex husband still living. Formerly Baroness Marie-Christine von Reibnitz, Marie-Christine's marriage to Tom Troubridge was declared null a couple of weeks ago. I do not think any member of the Royal Family has married a Roman Catholic since the 1680s. However, I may be wrong. I have just seen the couple on the six o'clock news and I can tell you I would also renounce any claim to the throne to lay my hands on her. She's beautiful.

-=-

Tuesday April 18, 1978

Jacq's secured a job in Leeds at the Royal Exchange House. She phoned today with the news that she's going to be an audio typist secretary or something for a company the name of which I have forgotten. Lynn took the call and said: "Hello, Sarah". Oh dear. I will always remember Vera Mather saying "Oh, hello Stephen" to me when I'd been 'walking out' with Lynne M for about six months.

Tonight I walked to the Civic Hall at 5pm to meet Jim but he was nowhere in sight, and having spent my fare money on scampi and coleslaw salad at lunchtime you can imagine my predicament. Penniless in the centre of a bustling metropolis. However, having no infirmities of any kind (other than mental ones) I put my best foot forward and marched in a homeward direction. Passing Kirkstall Abbey I secured a lift from a gentlemanly Menstonian who brought me all the way to Guiseley. He told me of the horrors of running a business in the midst of public transport chaos. I pitied him greatly.

At the foot of Hawksworth Lane I was picked up by Jim showering me (yet again) with profuse apologies. He was late because his car had been delayed having a service at Appleyard's.

Home for tea at 6:35. On the BBC news I saw the Prince of Wales and Prince Andrew training to make a parachute jump at RAF Brize Norton. My blood ran cold at the thought of a communist parachute packer hacking away with pinking shears at the royal baggage. Surely the princes do not intend leaping from the same plane at the same time? If so, the consequences could mean we have a King Edward IX, and Lady Sarah Spencer's anorexia nervosa suffering a relapse.


The Prince of Wales and his brother parachute training.

Bed at 11:30

-=-

Friday April 7, 1978

New Moon 6:15

Blimey, that girl Angie must either look very different in the dark, or I must have been very drunk last night. I think I know that answer, but this is hardly the place to elaborate. Anyway, you should know me by now enough to work this one out for yourselves. She (Angie) was OK but not particularly attractive, but even younger and shorter than I thought she was. And quite shy too. I cannot imagine what I found to say to her in a darkened corner of one of Oakwood Hall's many caverns, but I'm sad to say we had nothing in common to discuss today. After a couple of drinks at the Ostlers we parted and I gave her my phone number. I must be a bloody fool because I cannot imagine myself dashing to meet her again.

Met Jacq in Guiseley at 7:45 and went to the Drop where we were joined by Dave L, MM and Marita. Dave wasn't on top form and Marita moaned about feeling depressed. However, Jacq and I had a good time. She looked great in her all-in-one suit, the type of which I've never seen before. Tony, Pete M, Chris and Lynne Mather came in.


Jacq.


At 11:30 we realised Jacq had missed the bus to Leeds and so the two of us stormed 69, Silverdale Drive where we pestered John and Maria until dawn. John refused to get out of bed, but we kept Maria up until 4:30.

-=-

Wednesday December 28, 1977

_.Ghastly day at the YP and so I'll say no more. However, John's party tonight made up for it. Feeling decidedly Bohemian I clad myself in a collarless shirt and braces and ruffled up my hair and reintroduced that glazed glint to my disgustingly attractive eyes. Lynne Mather was there. Her reaction on seeing me was to exclaim: "Oh Michael! Haven't you let yourself go?" Let myself go indeed.  It proved to be the punch line of the whole evening. Poor Lynne looked quite well really and she seemed to fluctuate between David L and MM. It's very unusual for Dave to fall for the charms of any female, but a definite warming towards Lynne was obvious. Denise and Marita on good form.

Lynne Mather.

Helen and Graham were the best. I didn't realise until this Christmas just how much I miss Helen. Two years ago we were always in the pub together, invariably bringing the place down and seeing her again has brought these memories flooding back.

Maria was very drunk. She banged about on the piano, cig in mouth, destroying Christmas Carols.

The whole thing fizzled out long before I wanted it to. Jimmy Macdonald reckons he's a wild boozer, but when it all boils down to it he's an average drinking man of moderate nocturnal habits. Even John danced. By 3:00am it was over.

-=-

Tuesday May 3, 1977

Carole: unfortunate maiden

A horrible day. Last night when I set out on my historic venture I joked with Mama on the subject of with whom I was spending the evening. She wanted to know the identity of the unfortunate maiden and joked about following me down the lane. Nothing nasty was said and all seemed quite normal until tea time today. I am much afraid to say she launched an extraordinary attack on the 'mysterious young lady'. "Well, Michael, if you can't tell me who you were with last night all I can say is she must be a right little tart". I was angered and horrified and this gave me the push to clam up altogether and I said that under no circumstances would I ever tell her. Mama carried on in her usual way - or perhaps I should say the way she behaves when she's infuriated. Later tonight she told me that the Silver Jubilee party is cancelled. A statement made in anger and I fully intend to ignore it. (I'm 'intending to ignore' quite a few things today, aren't I?)

Silver Jubilees only happen once or twice in a lifetime and no one is going to prevent me celebrating in the appropriate way.

Watched TV and thought about last night. Am I as mixed up and confused as Carole? Do I require a sharp blow on the head? Somehow I think so. Do you know that nothing would have stood in the way of us getting back together if it hadn't have been for the foolish, tragic thing she did?

Since yesterday I haven't worried about where £80 of my holiday money is coming from or what I'm going to be wearing on my feet this time next week. What can it be? No doubt you've heard it all before - especially in these miserable, confused pages. The hateful way opinions can change in a matter of a few weeks I am beginning to shame over. Just twelve or thirteen weeks ago I was closeted at Thornton-le-Dale with Miss Mather abusing the very name of the girl on whom my mind now is permanently affixed.

-=-

Sunday March 13, 1977

3rd in Lent. Up at 12. To the Commercial with Sue, Peter, Uncle H, Lynn, Dave, Richard & Mandy Baker, Chris Baker, Julie Harris, Alison and John Pinder.

John Pinder and Alison Dixon.

Uncle H tells the pathetic tale of how, in a Tadcaster pub, he tried to tell his father that he was dying. The old sod wouldn't hear of it and refused to believe he was going until he actually went.

Back to Pine Tops. Lynn was pissed up again. Drinking brandy and smoking cigars. She says ________.Good lunch. Wine heavy.

Alison and John leave with Uncle H and I for Leeds at 5 and I'm working by 5.30. I like Alison immensely. Just Ursula and I.  Got a taxi home at 11. The driver smelled like a pig. What can have befallen the taxi driving snake expert?

The family had been to John & Maria's for drinks and cake. First wedding anniversary and all that. Has it been a long or short year? I can't quite make up my mind.

Oh, no Lynne M last night. She must have been out with her Hussar playmate.

Retired to my chambers at 12 after scrambled eggs on toast and watching the tail end of a Joan Fontaine epic. Isn't Joan the sister of Olivia de Havilland?

-=-

Tuesday March 8, 1977

David's 21st and Auntie Mabel's 58th. I phoned Auntie M at Marlene's and she seemed quite cheerful. It's her first (birthday) without Uncle Jack and it must be weird.

David: 21st birthday.

Not a particularly good day.Went to the EMI shop and bought 'Songs In the Key of Life' by Stevie Wonder on behalf of Mum for dear David___________.

I received a jolt over breakfast when Lynn informed me that my ex-consort, Miss Mather, will be attending David's party. Nothing to worry about I suppose. Made an effort to ring Tony but he didn't answer. I think he may be out with Martyn and  the Il Trovatore ladies (see Friday's entry).

The Queen made a slip today at the state opening of the Australian parliament. HM referring to her Silver Jubilee celebrations as 'the twenty fifth reign of my year' instead of 'the twenty fifth year of my reign'. Not a big mistake but it gets world-wide notice because she's usually word perfect.

No more tonight. It's becoming a drag having to sit into the early hours of the morning copiously filling in all the useless information.








-==-

Friday February 11, 1977

Yes, it's another day off. Lynn's chatting wakes me at 8.30 and after a coffee with Mum and Susan I'm ready to return to bed. Mum and Dad are going to a hotel in Scarborough tonight - for the weekend. Blimey, here we are in the midst of a great financial upheaval, with the prime minister quaking in his surgical boots, and my parents are off spending cash like no tomorrow. Good luck to them anyway - I don't think they've had a decent break since last summer.

Lynn.

Return to the sanctity of my bedroom world until 11.30 when it fell to me to do the housework. Well, not exactly housework. I went about with the vacuum cleaner and washed the breakfast pots, then switched on the stereo. You may recall that I secured today as a day off for Miss Akroyd's benefit? A model train set and bottle party was planned but further enquiries reveal she cannot have a day off until Saturday. So, I'm lumbered with a lazy, good for nothing day lounging here in the chair at Fort Pine Tops.

Smash hell out of the stereo all afternoon and press Papa's trousers while he's ferrying mother to-and-fro Moon's Mill. No telephone calls, telegrams or naked Swedish film starlets at all - which makes a change.

I'm awaiting the arrival of Sarah & Delia with a new sculpture I've commissioned from her (Sarah). But they don't arrive. Less said about that the better.

Martyn & Chris

Down to the Hare with Tony, Martyn, Sue & Peter. Move on (we three lads that is) to Neville's Wine Bar and then the Craven Heifer (Addingham). Oakwood Hall followed and Oh what a night it was. Some ladies from Yeadon were the highlight of the evening and Mr Mather, Mr Ratcliffe and Mr Hudson were there. Peter was quite moving on the subject of Lynne and the sad fact that 'she'll never see me again'. Drop the ladies off in Albert Square (Yeadon) and then come home with Tony & Martyn. Lynn and Dave are snuggled up in a corner of the settee.







-==-

Thursday February 10, 1977

My first full day without Her Majesty Queen Lynne as my consort and help-meet. In many ways a sad day. The Lynnian era is no more, and with it goes all the security, brilliance and power. The days of convenient car rides to the pub and pleasant weekends at Ty-Onnen have automatically ceased. Once again, I am nothing more than a pleasant, roving peasant.

David Baker

Work is unmentionable. Meet Dave B at the Yorkshire Crown at 12.45 after wading through several feet of water on Wellington Street. Boards outside the office (EP ones) proclaimed 'CHARLES AND DAVINA - PALACE STATEMENT' which is fact a denial of any imminent marital alliance. The Buckingham Palace spokesman says 'it's preposterous to suggest any engagement could take place whilst the Queen is out of the country'. She's in Australia, of course. These palace spokesmen are nothing more than paid liars.

To the dentist for a check up. I have to go back next month for a couple of fillings. Nip to Marita's with a box of chocolates for her birthday, which was a couple of weeks ago, and sit for half an hour or so. She said she'd heard on Monday that I'd finished with Lynne. Coo, didn't that get round quickly?

Down to the Hare with Tony and Martyn at 8.30. John is in with a lad called Steve (Hudson?), & Carole, Naomi and Karen Moorhouse are in. Barry (from Smith's at Ilkley), Judith and Kathryn roll up. John says Chris hates Martyn's guts for 'pinching Karen off him'. Howls of laughter. Karen looked like a deckchair actually - all stripes. Killer. We all go the Il Trovatore in Ilkley. Quite a good night but by 1am we'd developed a 'Darby & Joan' complex. Home with Tony and I sit laughing to myself whilst he and Karen look on as if I'm raving mad.

-=-

Wednesday February 9, 1977

It's all settled anyway. Yes at 10.15 today I telephoned Miss Mather. That was it. Finished. Eight months and three days. Eight months and three days of normality, steadiness and ordinariness. Anything exciting that occurred in this period was purely accidental, I'm sure.

Lynne Mather: girlfriend of eight months and three days...

Sarah is flabbergasted and completely astounded. The misery of the past few days lifts within minutes of my getting it off my chest to Lynne. I only hope she's taken it like she seemed to do. Tony rings and I convey the historic news to him.

I pass a weird sort of day wondering what life is going to do to Michael Rhodes. One thing's for sure I'm having no girlfriends, concubines, tarts, whores or wenches for at least four days - just until a decent period of mourning has passed. Cool and calculating, aren't I?

Home at 5 o'clock with Philip Knowles on the 35 (bus). I don't announce anything at home and will keep quiet about Lynne until Friday or so. No point in creating alarm and despondency before it's necessary.

Take a bath and watch a bit of TV and think about the whole business. Martyn rings and he says he finished with Carla last night. We're having a celebratory pint at the Hare tomorrow. I am looking forward to my new found freedom.

-==-

Tuesday February 8, 1977

A revolting day worrying about what to do about Lynne. I consulted Sarah & Eileen. They said I should not finish with her on the phone under any circumstances. But, waving a white flag, I realise that after last night I am incapable of telling her to her face. Call it cowardice, I don't care.

Miss Judith Rushworth

Met Judith outside the YP at 5pm and saw 'The Pink Panther Strikes Again' at the Odeon. A marvellous film as I fully expected it would be. By 9pm we're back in Guiseley, and have a drink at the Yorkshire Rose. We talk about our relationships with the opposite sex. I am an Aries man. A weak Aries man, but Aries all the same.


Judith was, of course, born one week after me. I felt a good deal better after our chat and am now resolved to end it with Lynne - 'poor Lynne' as Judith kept saying. Awful and irrevocable I know, but tomorrow SO HELP ME GOD.

Have a bath and retire at about 11pm having seen more Silver Jubilee details on the news. Can't wait for the festivities to get under way - this misery is dreadful.

-==-

Monday February 7, 1977

Maria and JPH.

A wet, rotten day. After lunch I went down to the cobblers, yes cobblers. Had an old pair of shoes rendered wearable. Took a pair of trousers to the dry cleaners and books to the library. A really industrious afternoon. Got soaked through. Move on at 3.30 or so to Maria's. She is entertaining the former Margaret Appleyard, Ian's sister, and her baby, Daniel, aged one. When Margaret has left Maria goes on to me about my female problem, which must now be known to everyone except Lynne. I agree I ought to end it before it goes on much longer. I bravely say 'Oh, I'll do it tonight', but know only too well that I'll find some excuse at the last minute.

with JPH.

Lynne comes at 7.30 and sees how miserable I am but foolishly I say nothing. She tries to be so nice, which only makes it worse. To the Ratcliffe residence so that Lynne can collect the holiday brochures - she wants to book her holiday tomorrow. Then have fish and chips and go to the Fox & Hounds where I have half of lager. When she dropped me off at home she asked Mum why I'm such a 'miserable sod'.






-==-

Sunday February 6, 1977

Septuagesima. The Silver Jubilee of Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth the Second. Bells peal and prayers are said for the Sovereign lady in churches throughout the realm. To celebrate the joyous, historic event Mum, Dad, Sue, Peter N and myself  went for lunch to the Birch Inn at Wilsill, near Pateley Bridge. Four or five pints of lager and a sirloin. Peter had a steak too, Mum had fish, Susan a curry and Dad a ploughman's lunch.

Birch Tree Inn, Wilsill

At 2pm we returned homeward and called on John & Maria just in time for JPH's liquid liver lunch. A messy business. He is a beautiful child.

To the YP at 5.30 and have a nightmare of evening. Rang Lynne. She's at Pickering cinema with Karl and Peter. Rang her back at 10pm. She tells me of her weekend cake baking saga and the dog's latest illness, &c. Home feeling miserable.

Saturday February 5, 1977

'I may have the body of a weak and
feeble woman'

Rang Lynne this morning with every intention of 'calling it a day'. By 'It' I of course mean our love life, and by 'love life' I of course mean going down the pub three or four times a week and behaving quite respectably and boring. That famous Rhodes cowardice raised it's famous head, and I was sat on Mama's bed dialling. I just couldn't do it and we ended up discussing the weather and rising sugar prices. Oh, why am I such a feeble man? Indeed 'I may have the body of a weak and feeble woman' applies just as much to me as it did to the Empress Josephine*** or whoever coined the phrase in the first place. I am always in some kind of shitting mess, aren't I, dear, patient readers? If you are reading this please deposit this diary in the nearest dustbin because it just isn't worth it at all.

With the lovely Naomi Downing ...

Out to the Hare with Chris and Tony at 8.30. Tony is in a rotten mood._______.We move on to the Vineyard at Ilkley and then Oakwood Hall and he cheers up. Susan Hollins was at Oakwood celebrating her 21st birthday, but no one else. Not even Naomi and Co. I like Miss Downing a good deal. She makes me feel that I'm not the only piss artist in the country. A good girl all the same, and I like to have Maria on about her.


***Elizabeth the First, you idiot.

Friday February 4, 1977

Sorry about all this. It's an accident (referring to scribblings and crossings out at the head of the page). Anyway, to get down to business.: Lynne doesn't arrive until 8 and we don'e get to the Hare until NINE. Have a rotten couple of hours. Feel 'off it' and completely shagged out and Lynne looks like 2lb of wet haddock.

2lb of wet haddock.

 

I try and liven myself up by going to talk to Judith. It's no good - things are going to have to drastically change. Home in a downpour when the pub shuts and Lynne leaves for Thornton-le-Dale. I push Peter's car down the road (I always assumed cars had engines?) Change hurriedly and go with Tony and Martyn to Il Trovatore dropping off Janet Simon at home on the way. See Denise, Carole, Karen Moorhouse, Naomi Downing, &c. Oh and Chris and Pete M. Chris and Pete storm off when C sees Martyn with Miss Moorhouse. What a mix-up. I chat seriously with Carole and tell her she's fabulous and that Lynne and I virtually through. Home pissed.

-==-

Thursday February 3, 1977

Busy day at the YP again. At lunchtime I went to Schofield's to claim Mama's repaired coffee perculator which I carry off without having to pay anything. Look in Austick's and run my fingers through 'Majesty' by Robert Lacey. I shall have to buy it.

Ring Lynne. She's getting a cold, pneumonia, or something. I feel bored and utterly flattened. I fancy having a passionate, close, sexy romance with a lusty bombshell. Lynne just isn't up to it. Where will it all end?

Jim Callaghan: Scottish referendum

To Yeadon cinema with Lynne to see 'The Omen' (Yes, I've seen it before). It is good. Lee Remick especially. She goes off to Roundhay at 11pm in a gust of wind, hail and conglomoration of other elements.

Sit with a Scotch in front of the TV watching one of President Carter's fireside chats to the Universe from his White House parlour. Greasy little man. Never trust a president with gold fillings and Mohair pullovers that's what I say.

Quake in my socks at the late night news with Miss (Angela) Rippon. Evidently, Scotland, Wales and other bits of the UK are going to have one of those referendums in November to decide whether they want to get out of the Empire or not. We under-privileged English do not have a say in the matter. The tartan maniacs and mean leek-growing sods can pull out on us at any time but we English do not have the right to say whether we want  them to go or not.  Jim Callaghan really is the bloody limit. We should have a referendum asking the simple question: "Don't you think it's about time the Labour Government resigned? Answer 'Definately' or 'Yes'.

-==-

Wednesday February 2, 1977

Forgive my use of the biro, but once again I have mislaid my fountain pen. It'll turn up. A rotten day. On the way to the YP with Jim I see, with horror, CB slumped in her wrecked car half way across New Road Side (Horsforth) surrounded by blood stained rescuers and salvage equipment. What can have happened?

Miss Rushworth

Judith rings to say she's actually ill and has to miss tonight's 'Pink Panther' spectacular. Are we jinxed or something? I know all about 'true love finding a way' but I think we've well and truly stopped it in its tracks this time. What's your opinion anyway of two-timers? Please do not forget I am only 22 and have never done it before. Blimey, some people do worse things. Look at the Black Panther for instance. Should I break with Lynne altogether? Come on, you lot out there. Can't you see I need some help? For God's Sake Help me someone!

-==-

Sunday January 30, 1977

4th after Epiphany. Up at 12 noon just as John and Maria arrive with JPH in his perambulator. He's parked in the lounge and the usual race follows to see which member of the family can first lay hands on him. The porridge he'd had for breakfast at Molly's didn't stay down. In fact he brought a fair amount of it up all over me. Lynne clears off in the direction of Chris's at Horsforth to collect Peter M for the great trek back to Ty-Onnen. Why do they have to go home just for one bloody night?

John and his first-born.

We had lunch at 2. Peter N included which is quite a laugh because he always 'has a go' at Mum. He has a great sense of humour.

I work tonight. Yes, I give the YP use of my amazing brain for one whole evening. Work 6.20pm - 1am. Not too bad an onslaught really. Did about 48m tons of filing. Oh God, I'm confused again. Women, I'm afraid. Ring Judith and arrange to go see the 'Pink Panther' next Wednesday. We joke about our constant failure to see the danmed thing. Since the Wednesday after Christmas the arrangements have gone hay-wire. Rang Dave Glynn and had a chat.


-==-