Sunday October 19, 1975

21st after Trinity. Last day in Hayes for Pete and me. Clamber out of bed at a suitable hour and plunge into a hot bath. Ten minutes later I'm to be found stuffing my suitcase full of all my wordly goods, and half an hour later we're stood in the arrivals lounge at Heathrow Airport. Don't worry, I'm not doing a bunk or anything like that, but poor Pete so much wanted to see London Airport before returning to the stagnation of Bramhope, and we couldn't find it in ourselves to deny him this little pleasure.

Two hours at Heathrow watching Jumbo jets flitting about was quite sufficient for me, and we then, the three of us, moved on to London's Victoria bus station. Depositing our cases, we went on yet another tour, taking in the National Gallery, Charing Cross Restaurant, the Banqueting House at Whitehall and Buckingham Palace again. The Royal Standard isn't up, and I hazard a guess that SHE is out for tea this afternoon.

Bid farewell to Chris at 5.30 and head home on a little coach to Leeds. I read 'Mandingo' all the way home and keep dropping off to sleep, much to the amusement of Pete.

At home I hear Mum and Dad have passed an embarrassing weekend at Ravenglass with Uncle Harry, and am told by them that the Station in Ilkley is not going to fall to the Rhodes clan for tenancy. Bastard Charrington is more appropriate.

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Tuesday September 23, 1975

It feels like a Monday today because it's my first day back at work since the weekend.

I ring Carole at work and we decide to go to the cinema this evening. 'Mandingo' starring James Mason and Susan George, which is all about slaves and plantation life in America in the 19th century. I've heard that it's full of sex and violence, but when we eventually see it at 8.30 tonight it is very mild and typical indeed. Fancy, travelling all the way to Leeds to see a film which could easily cheer the Lord Archbishop of Canterbury himself. However, we did like it and it gave us the excuse (not that we need one) to sit huddled together in a dimly lit room.

Home on the 10.45 35 and I call at her home for a drink. After saying my fond farewells I walk home. Luckily I missed the rain, which just stopped as we alighted from the bus.

Home at about 12 and continue reading the Duke & Duchess of Windsor by Ralph Martin.

John is still at death's door, but he vows he'll be well again for his birthday celebrations on Thursday.

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