Tuesday January 6, 1976

Epiphany. A mild day. Sit at work thinking about holidays and worry over who is going this year and who isn't. John refuses to go away if females are included in the party. (That's his contribution to Sex Equality Year, and all that).

Chris too says he doesn't fancy sitting about on the Continent with half the female population of Guiseley, but neither do I really.

Who would have thought that Carole and Maria could have stirred up such controversy. I want to go on holiday with Carole, but not if it's just the two of us. Why nobody rellishes the idea of going in a crowd God only knows. She (Carole) rings me at 2.30 and I tell her we shall have to discuss arrangements so that some conclusion may be drawn on this vital subject shortly.

I get home at 5.30 and Mum is ranting and raving like a lunatic. Sometimes I fear for her sanity because she can carry on in a most hideous fashion when she is so inclined. I get out of her way after tea because we get on each others nerves and I find solace in my room. Fretting about the holiday arrangements, or rather the lack of them.

-==-

Wednesday December 31, 1975

New Year's Eve. Go to work in pouring rain and a blizzard at 12.30. Collect my pay and dash straight out for the 1 o'clock bus.

In Guiseley I buy Mum and Dad a bottle of whisky for the New Year and birthdays rolled into one, and get them a {birthday} card each from a newsagents shop. Home at 2 saturated to the very bone.

John is watching a Charles Chaplin film and I watch some of it with him.

Meanwhile: that night. To the Hare & Hounds with Carole and the mob. Stay until 12.30. At midnight it all seems like a terrific anti-climax and no one is happy or joyful at all. I give Mia, the landlady, a kiss. David takes Carole, CB, Chris and I to Maria's, where she's in bed with 'flu. Mrs Mac gives us a drink and we stay for an hour or so.

Back to Pine Tops where quite a crowd is gathered - in fact all the usuals other than Chris and CB are here. Douglas Snr and Douglas Jun from next door come, and so too do Mr & Mrs Blackwell. Ernest fell down the stairs and nearly killed himself, and the only other incident was when Lynn threw Andy and Linda out after an argument over the choice of records. I drank the traditional skin-full.

The girls retired at 4am and so did Mama and Papa who were absolutely marvellous as usual. Dave L went home, and Dave B, Pete, Doug and myself went on drinking until nearly 6am. I did masses of washing up and clearing round before collapsing on the settee at 7.30. {Dave B had the floor, Pete had 2 chairs}.

THE END

{I could go about the year ending and 1975 going forever, but I won't. Idleness and tiredness in general prevent me from discussing the finer points of Hogmany.

Do not miss the 1976 edition of Michael Rhodeses thrilling memoirs!!

This is MLR signing off until another year.

Good night and a Happy New Year to all.


God Bless.

-==-

Sunday December 21, 1975

Work tonight ..... Ugh!

Marlene, Frank, Mark and Debbie are visiting Mum & Dad.

Go to Maria's place at 2.30 to see Carole for a few hours before going into the office. Sit with Carole, Maria and John in front of the tv for a couple of hours until 4 o'clock, just as they are about to start Sunday dinner.

Work was completely dull, as it invariably is on a Sunday, and I leave at 10.30.

See the end of a pre-war Humphrey Bogart film and consume several whiskies, which give me a sudden burst of Christmas spirit.

Do not rellish work in the morning. I wish that Santa Claus could come a few days early for a change. Somehow I don't think he will.

-=-

Thursday December 18, 1975

The great unveiling of Lucy Collis's new kennel.

John and I go up to West End Lane at about 7.30, and Sarah and I stand about while John bangs, brays, hammers and attacks Mrs Collis's kitchen like something not right. We entertain Mrs C's mother with a fine demonstration of the Yorkshire accent, which absolutely delighted her. These Northamptonshire breeds aren't all that up on dialects.

We leave at 9.30 and I get to Carole's a hour and a half late. She isn't going round the bend or anything and is quite normal.

Maria takes a different attitude and when John brings her down to the Hare she's sulking and has a face like a wet weekend.

I got the last bus home and retired to bed immediately on my arrival at the ancestral pile.

You're very lucky to be reading this, because I nearly didn't bother getting the old pen out today. You may be even luckier tomorrow.

-==-

Monday December 8, 1975

Boring day at the office. Yet another IRA siege is going on in London, and it is dominating the newspapers. OK, it's not very nice for the hostages, but I'm damned sure the public don't want to sit around watching Frank Bough on 'Nationwide' with a plastic scale model of the house! Blimey, what's the world coming to? I'll just comment on the advice a leading psychologist has offered to the hostages on tv. He has advised them to act and behave quite normally, as though nothing is wrong. 'Do the cooking. Watch Crossroads. Take a bath. Feed the parrot, and telephone Mum in Wiltshire for a nice chat.' How the Hell can anyone act normally when sharing a tiny drawing room with four Irish murderers? They have no bog, no food and bloody Frank Bough to contend with on the telly telling everyone and everybody how dangerous the murderers are!

At 7.30 or so Carole rings from Maria's and I immediately go round. Little did I know that Carole was following me round Tranmere and before reaching Maria's she tripped on the causeway and injured her leg. When leaving Maria's about an hour later she walked smack-bang into a telegraph pole rendering herself insensible. What a girl she is!

However, on arriving at Maria's we sat in the lounge playing two new records she's bought me. She was still wearing her gloves, scarfe and coat half an hour later! To avoid any contamination from Prinny we came back to Pine Tops to watch tv. Saw Mick Jagger in 'Ned Kelly'. It isn't all that bad really but Jagger's Irish accent is hopeless.

At the bus stop at 11 we made so much noise, or perhaps I should say Carole made so much noise, that it prompted a woman to yell at us from a bedroom window: "You bigger ones really should know better." The silly cow wants her head seeing to. We were not making a massive racket, and her shouting down at us from a window made far more noise.

--==--

Sunday November 30, 1975

Advent Sunday. St Andrew's Day. Wake up feeling quite normal considering the amount of alcohol I consumed at the Minstrel's Gallery.

Carole rings me from Maria's to say they are going to church this afternoon and 'do you mind if I don't see you until teatime?' I say I'll just about survive (God knows how) and return to the lounge to discuss food with Lynn and Dave. We are all on the verge of starvation and the aroma of Mum's cooking doesn't help much.

Marlene, Frank and the children come round at 2 for lunch and because of the large numbers involved we have to have two sittings in the dining room. I am on second sitting with John, Lynn, Sue, Dave and Pete.

I spend the afternoon playing a chess-like game with Frank. Really cosy it was too,and made such a change from the usual Sunday afternoon activities. Frank was clad in pink socks, orange and green checked trousers, a white shirt with black men all over it, a lime green and blue striped tank top, and a repulsive vomit coloured tie. However, I do suppose that one goes through a phase like this when one hits 30. Funny really.

The Harwoods go at 5.30 and John and I are summoned to the Macdonald residence. Mr & Mrs Mac are keeping vigil around grandfather's hospital bed but hope is fading fast. They look at his possible passing quite objectively though. I suppose to Roman Catholics death is like going on holiday.

After an hour at the Macdonald stately pile I leave, for health reasons, with Carole in the direction of home. We watch television, and that's about it really. Nothing thrilling or outrageous. Just the days events as seen through the eyes of a raving lunatic called Michael Rhodes.

NEWS: Graham Hill, the racing driver, was killed in a plane crash last night. Now I'll just go upstairs and lay down.

-==-

Saturday November 29, 1975

To Bradford with Carole and Maria at 2pm. Maria goes off to buy presents and Carole and I go looking for a ring for me. We see one in Samuels after an hour or so. She buys it for me. £26! Bless her. I never thought she'd pay so much, and it only goes to show that I underestimate her feelings for me. The ring is gold with a tiny diamond on one corner - beautiful.

Ring Brummels and they say we can't go in as a coach party. We therefor cancel our venue and go for the Cat's Whiskers instead. They have no objection to us going. I ring Christine W in York and tell her to go to the Cat's Whiskers instead of Brummels. Phew! What a lark. But the worst is yet to come. You just wait and see.

We readied ourselves and dashed around the house in a mad panic. Sue and Lynn were wearing new creations. At 7.30 Dad drove John, Maria, Carole and me down to the Hare. People started arriving and by 8.30 we had gathered some 31 people.Chris and Gillian came, and the couple from next door, and many people too numerous to mention. At 9 o'clock I go outside and wait for the coach and my heart sinks when it gets to twenty past that fateful hour and it is still nowhere to be seen. Half the crowd follow me to the telephone in the tap room and look on in horror as I'm told that no coach whatsoever will be coming tonight. I tried to get mad with the creep on the other end of the line but was rendered speechless by the shock of it. Peter Nason called him a 'bastard' and Gillian Upton called him a few other things, but it was all in vain. 31 people all dressed up with nowhere to go. A scramble was made for the door and those who were able went home for cars. By 11 o'clock two thirds of the original 31 people were in the Minstrel's Gallery in Ilkley. We stayed until 2am and I cheered up somewhat after the shock of being let down by Rhodeses Coaches Ltd.

CB was pissed out of her mind.

-==-

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.

-==-

Sunday November 23, 1975

Last after Trinity. A wet, horrible day. I walk down the lane after lunch to meet Carole off the 3 o'clock bus from Menston. She is a bit late and I walk about kicking leaves around pretending not to notice how unpunctual she is. I don't get too wet and feel refreshed by the gales and pounding rain. She does arrive in the end and we saunter up the lane like love birds.

Last night she lost her mother's priceless bracelet at the Cow & Calf and all hell was raised at 14, Oakridge Avenue, this morning.

We watched tv, and then John and Maria came over for tea. After tea, watched tv again. Nothing like a bit of variety, eh?

John obviously doesn't have my great willpower or strength of character because he and Maria made off to the Hare after part 2,000,000 of 'Upstairs, Downstarirs'. We all grit our teeth and fought our way through the news, eighteen war films and finally a Bette Davis epic.

Dave took Carole home with Peter at midnight or so, and I crawled away to bed.

Have I mentioned already that Kathleen found a 1956 Burke's Peerage in a cupboard at the office and I am now the proud owner of it?


--==-

Thursday November 20, 1975

Carole's 18th birthday. Go to her place with Dave and Lynn at 7.30 and meet her parents for a few drinks of pernod and home-made lager. John and Maria come soon afterwards and we all have a good laugh. Paul, her 10 year-old brother drank a glass of pernod and went upstairs to be sick. Carole looked great in her new dress. She'd been drinking since 6.30 and was well on the way when we arrived, and so Lynn took over the responsibility of playing hostess, which she does well. I refused to give Carole my present in front of all the others and so I waited until she went upstairs, and then sneaked up afterwards and adorned her neck with the item of jewelry. It's probably not as good as Liz Taylor's, but it's the thought that counts after all.

At 8.30 John, Maria, Lynn, Dave, Carole and I - plus CD - made our way to the Hare for a few pre-meal slurps. Carole had her eighth pernod or something equally ludicrous, and could hardly stand by 9 o'clock. The meal is lost in something of a dream. Carole was sick twice but insisted it was nothing to do with the chicken. I devoured a T-bone steak and the best part of a bottle of wine, and helped myself to an ashtray on the way out. A thief, that's what I am.

__________________________________.We went to her place at midnight and I stayed a couple of hours. We were quite alone and it was the most romantic time of my life. Walked home at 2.30 in the frosty air.

-==-

Sunday November 16, 1975

25th after Trinity. A cold, bleak day. I normally go to Maria's when Carole is in residence therein, but because of the dog I decide to scrap this tradition once and for all.

I woke up at 9.30. My throat feeling terrible. I gargle with salt and water and then inhale salt water up my nose - a painful experience. At 10 I go for a short walk around Greenfield Avenue in the drizzle which helps my head clear slightly. Back home I glance at the Sunday papers and drink tea.

This Franco business drags on and on. Spain is now wondering whether to unplug his kidney, brain and heart machines. He could go on for years in the present state and it's not doing the Spanish government much good.

Mum and Dad went off for the afternoon at 12, and John did his usual disappearing act in the direction of Maria's. Sue and I made lunch and Carole came round at 2.30 for hers. Sue and Lynn say they like her hair, and I think she is now coming round to liking it herself. Dave brings a pile of 'Paddington Bear' books round for Carole to look at. They're written for 10 year-olds, but Carole is just getting into them.
We sit watching television all afternoon with Sue & Peter and then move onto the radio at 6pm to listen to the top 20.

Mum and Dad come back at 7pm. I thought they'd be out all evening, but they want to watch the Royal Variety Performance. Carole and I want to watch it too, and so the two of us venture to her place in order that she can tell the Dowager Mrs Phillips that she's staying at Maria's another night. I do not like her father one bit. He's almost maniacal the way he carries on. He told his only daughter that her new hair style made her 'look like an inmate of Menston Hospital' and went on to say, over swigs of tea, that she'd lost her femininity. Most cruel of him, I thought, and we are glad to get away from her place. She was upset by the things Mr Phillips had said.

We had one drink in the Hare and then came home. Dave and Lynn had bought a supply of apricot wine in and all the family (other than John & Maria of course) sat down to watch the Royal Variety Performance. A bloody awful show it was too. The only good bits were the beginning and the end when we had a view of the Queen. She looked bored to death, but very attractive in an orange evening dress. Just how she puts up with it year after year I do not know. She really should award herself the Victoria Cross for sitting through that painful pantomime year in, year out.

-==-

Saturday November 15, 1975

In keeping with tradition I do not emerge from my slimy pit until noon. Mum and Dad came in within seconds of my return to the Lands of the Living and inform me that they have just purchased two wardrobes and a dressing table! "Spend, Spend, Spend" isn't our family motto for nothing.

Carole gives me one last ring before departing to Leeds to wave bye bye to her hair and the best part of £13. The poor darling was near to collapse with fear.

I have a horrible afternoon. Everyone is arguing and rushing around as though they're on fire. I lock myself away in the lounge with the stereo and play records. One would think that I'd started the Third World War by the outcry which erupted. Putting a record on seemed such a good idea too, and if Hitler had had the same conviction when dealing with his Jewish friends as I had when spinning a few discs, he'd have been goose-stepping through Guiseley in 1940.

Carole rang at 6.30 to say the hair people refused to perm her hair and decided to cut it instead. She only spent £8.50, but was close to tears. I tell her I'm coming round to see the finished creation, and because of the rain Dad drives me to Maria's.
I like it. She looks different, but on the whole it's an improvement. She doesn't believe me, and storms about the house in a lousy mood shouting 'how can I face my friends with hair like this?' and 'Oh God, just look at it!' I tried to reassure her, but didn't do all that well really.

Whilst waiting at the bus stop to go to the Hare Dad passes in the car and gives us a lift. Mum says Carole's hair is very nice, and reassures her better than I ever could. Buy Mum and Dad a drink and stand with Christine and Stuart. Peter M and CB, Martyn and CD make a cheery foursome, and I can't help thinking that Martyn is next on Christine's list of suitors. We shall have to wait and see.

Carole and I keep arguing and then breaking down laughing, and all the others decide to go to the Cow and Calf pub. Carole and I go with Christine and Stuart and little Shirley. John follows up with Maria. We have no sooner got settled in the pub that Peter mentions going to a disco in Skipton. I say no, and Carole agrees. He goes with CB, CD, Martyn and Shirley. We all have a few more drinks and then go back to Maria's. I succumb once again to dog-disease and it grows horribly worse. By 2am I'm on the verge of collapsing. This really shatters my hopes of getting a four-legged, furry friend in the near future.

-==-

Friday November 14, 1975

Uninteresting day at the YP. Ring Carole at lunchtime and arrange to meet her at the usual hour. Believe it or not, we are leaving the pub early before closing time tonight to see a BBC2 film tribute decdicated to the Prince of Wales, who is 27 today. Carole hates the Royal Family, but wants to watch the programme because I do.

We meet at 8. She is staying with Maria while her Mum & Dad are away again. Neither of us are in a good mood, and tempers on both sides are frayed. At the Hare for 8.15. It is completely flat and dead. Andy, Linda, Stuart, Christine, Keith, Helen, Lynn, Dave, CB, CD, Helen L, Jimmy Mac, Carole and myself, but despite the good turn-out it is too quiet for comfort. Andy laughs at my hairstyle for some reason, and if I'd have had a few more drinks inside me I'd have clogged him one around the ear-hole. Carole and I are on pernod again. Lager is all very well, but it does tend to be like a minor atomic bomb in ones belly.

I am arranging a coach trip to Brummels for Nov 27. Everyone going except Andy and Linda who are going to a wedding.

The (Prince of Wales) programme starts at 10.15. Just me and Carole, Mum and Dad watching it. From start to finish it was a masterpiece. The prince's sense of humour comes through loud and clear and if Spike Milligan is still alive when the prince succeeds to the throne I can forsee the House of Lords coping with the goon-like Earl Milligan, KG. The film showed details of the prince's flying activities and his installation as Grand Master of the Order of the Bath. Carole said she'd enjoyed it, but I think she is just humouring me.

We mess about and laugh with Lynn and Dave, who come in at about 10.45, and the four of us drive round to Maria's for a little social booze. Maria drank too much martini
and my last recollection of her was when she fell onto the floor for the last time, kicking her legs in the air, and letting out hideous giggles. I had over the necessary amount, and so too did Carole. I told her I didn't think I loved her. She was upset. I don't know why I said it. I'm a mixed up fool. Insane probably, but it's not my fault.


-==-

Sunday November 2, 1975

A funny day really - a typical Sunday. No matter what you do on the Sabbath it always ends up being boring. If you were to do exactly the same thing on a Saturday it would seem totally different._________.

Go to Maria's after lunch. She is 'grandad sitting' whilst Mr & Mrs Mac are in Shrewsbury. No sooner have I stepped foot over the threshold that I succumb to the dreaded allergy (dog). My eyes and nose pour with water and I itch everywhere. You can imagine that this made me irritable. Carole sulked for most of the time and we kept drifting from room to room nagging at one another. In order to get fresh air Carole and I go for a run round Tranmere and we call in at home for a cup of tea. Whilst we're at home Maria phones to see if we want salad for tea at her place and we both readily agree. Running back to Dunedin House I feel a good deal better, but after eating an enormous salad I have a sneezing attack and can hardly breathe.

Carole is acting weird. Maria tells me that I'm infatuated with Christine Braithwaite, and asks me to take more notice of Carole "because you'll never find anyone better." I would have been mad with her, but couldn't argue for sneezing.

At 9 o'clock Carole and I went for yet another walk around frosty Tranmere and discuss my friendship with Christine. I say I disagree with Maria's opinion and she says it wasn't her idea to bring it up. If it's been preying on her mind I can see no harm in her letting off steam.

I come home at 10 and sit with Mum and Dad and have a whisky and hot water and stagger upstairs at 11 with a hot water bottle.

-==-

Saturday November 1, 1975

A wet, bright and blustery day, but at least the fog's gone. I do not emerge until well after 12 o'clock, and I sat about reading the Daily Mail until 2pm when we had lunch.

After a lovely lunch of pork and Yorkshire puddings John took me round to Maria's, where Carole is staying the weekend. On my arrival I hear that her dad packed her suitcase for her this morning and said something to the nature of "go forth woman, and never darken my doorstep again". After a slanging match and a tearful scene, all was forgiven and he drove her to Maria's professing his fatherly love for her. Mrs P told her that they loved Carole especially because "we had to get married because of you". Being a love child doesn't always inspire automatic devotion, and if I'd been in the position of Mr P it would have brought forth feelings of complete hatred. Getting married is an obnoxious prospect to start with, let alone with the hinderance of children after only months of marital 'bliss'.

Mr & Mrs Macdonald are away for the weekend again and we, the four of us, sit listening to old Beatles LPs and 'The Sound of Music' with Julie Andrews screeching her mouth off. Carole looks a bit miserable and it's obvious she's been crying. Domestic problems in that family are a daily occurrence, and I fail to see how they have kept together for so long. She cheers up somewhat before 7pm, when I return home and leap into the bath.

I have sewn some of Dad's old police uniform buttons onto my old cheese cloth shirt, and wear my ancient denims. Back to Maria's at 8.15, and Carole accompanies me to the bus stop. I am in a great mood, and so too is darling Carole, who smiles like a cherubic angel. We only stay at the Hare & Hounds for an hour, and then move on to the Craven Heifer again. Carole, Helen L and me go with Raymond, and all the gang go with Peter. At the Craven Heifer we find Mum and Dad having a quiet drink. Lynn, Dave, Sue and Peter came too. We all had a great time and then moved on to the Cow & Calf except for Raymond, Helen, Lynn & Dave. Carole and CB hate one another. Carole and I stand with Sue & Peter for most of the night and Christine D is with her sister, Elaine, whom I haven't seen since 1971. _____________. Back to Martyn's for coffee and see Karen Cole with Mick Lynch. His Mum comes in shortly after us.

-==-

Friday October 31, 1975

All Hallow's Eve, no less. However, I failed to see a witch, wizard, ghoul, ghost, nymph, gnome, or anything like that on my travels this night. How can we be expected to believe in things like this when they don't even bother to make an attempt to scare people to death on this truly evil night?

Quite busy at the YP today and I worked through my lunch hour and came home at 3.30. I didn't feel all that fit this afternoon. Stomach ache and all that. But it goes before I'm home.

Tonight Dave L rings. I'd quite forgotten that he'd be home and the sound of his voice made a pleasant change. He meets John and I at the Hare at 8.15, but I leave minutes later to meet Carole. Mr Phillips sits contemplating me for a few minutes and then says quite sharply: "Please tell your friends to be more quiet when bringing Carole home in the early hours of the morning." I mumble and stumble for a few minutes, and before I can answer he goes on to say: "...and I must say it isn't a pleasant sight to come downstairs at 3 o'clock in the morning to find someone using my garage as a public convenience."

I was very nearly embarrassed. But Michael Rhodes is NEVER embarrassed by any one or anything.

After half an hour in the Hare we go to the Craven Heifer. I am dying to say to someone that we, the Rhodes clan, may one day be resident at this public house. Carole, Maria and CD sit in a corner like three old witches, which is quite appropriate for All Hallow's Eve, and they leave CB, Dave L and me gassing away merrily. Dave and Lynn and all the others are with us too. At 11pm we emerge and CB pinches a sign from a house next door which reads: "BUDGIES FOR SALE". Back at our place I display the stolen sign in Monkman's garden next door. Let's hope that someone will bang on their door at 6.30 tomorrow morning and ask for a pair of blue breeders!


--==--

Tuesday October 28, 1975

Lynn wakes me from my slumbers at 7am. The day is a beautiful one. It is in Guiseley anyway, but things soon change when travelling to work with Jim. Passing through Horsforth we become shrouded in fog, which grows steadily more dense as we go into Leeds. The temperature falls too, and one would think Guiseley is on the French Riviera or somewhere equally tropical. (Yes, I am aware that France isn't tropical, but my description isn't meant to be taken literally).

At 4.30 I failed to get a bus home and so I walked to the West Yorkshire bus station and got the 5 o'clock 33. At Guiseley I find myself walking up home in the dark for the first time this year. I do not object to coming home in darkness, but I detest have to eat breakfast and contemplate a days work when the moon is shining and it's black as Hell at 7am.

Over tea Mum and Dad tell me about the Craven Heifer. They thought it was a bit scruffy upstairs______.They did like it though, and are optimistic about the bank financing them with the necessary cash. If they do get it we won't be moving in until February next year, so we shall have yet another Christmas at good old Pine Tops. All this waiting around and speculating about the future isn't doing me any good. I'll be a nervous wreck before I'm 21.

I rang Carole at a Menston phone box at 6.30 and we chatted for ten minutes or so. She didn't have much to say other than the fact she's bought four packs of potato crisps to eat whilst she watches a James Bond film on TV tonight.

John and Maria arrived home safely this afternoon, but as yet I haven't seen either of them. After having a coffee with Mum and Dad they went to her place where they remain unrtil this very minute. I'll report on how things went in Shrewsbury tomorrow.

Items of news: I'm saying nothing about General Franco or Juan Carlos. That matter will drag on for years yet. And the Prince of Wales's car accident in Norfolk did not injure anyone seriously, you'll be pleased to hear. HRH seems prone to road accidents.


-==-

Sunday October 26, 1975

22nd after Trinity. Get up in time for lunch. Tell Mum and Dad about the Craven Heifer, wherev they have never been. They like the sound of the decorations and I tell them how impressed I was with the stone fireplaces and things.

John and Maria go to Shrewsbury this afternoon to stay with Elizabeth Macdonald, Maria's elder sister who is a lecturer. You'll laugh at what I am about to say because I always say it about John's girlfriends. I realise that I said the same thing about Christine White, Carol Smith, Naomi Downing and all the others, but this time I mean it when I say that I can hear wedding bells chiming merrily in my ears. OK, so they are always arguing, but surely that is what makes a good marriage, and besides, the time they spend together in bed must mean they like one anothers company a little bit at least. I wish them all the luck in the world anyway because Maria is my favourite of all John's mistresses. They return home on Tuesday I think.

Carole rings at 2pm to say that she and her parents have had yet another disagreement. She stormed out of the house and refused to devour her Sunday lunch. I meet her down the lane at 3 o'clock and we go for a walk over the golf course. The sun is shining brilliantly and I'm looking forward with rellish to a decent hike over Baildon Moor when suddenly her shoe capsises beneath her, and though she protests that all is well, I make her accompany me home. It's dangerous to walk on uneven ground in damaged footwear. Broken bones is not the thing I want my darling to get. (Clever grammar isn't it?) We get back home and play records and listen to the radio until 7, and then we watch TV until 10. A good film starring Warren Mitchell was on, but she had to leave before it finished to wash her lovely locks, &c. I walked her to the bus stop and managed to be home in time to see the end of the film. Romantic little devil, aren't I?

-==-

Monday October 20, 1975

No work today. Glad really because I never feel up to it when I've been travelling the day before. Evidently Sue and John threw a small party last night in honour of Carole and Maria. After champagne and God knows what, they retired to the numerous vacant beds upstairs. John and Maria were in his bed, Carole was in mine, and Sue and Peter were in her bedroom.

Lynn, David, CD, and Martyn Cole were of course visiting Alison in Southampton, and Mum and Dad were spending the night with Uncle Harry at Ravenglass, his new place of refuge. Poor Harry took up employment three weeks ago as a chauffeur and general dogs body for a wealthy man and his housekeeper at Cockermouth. After a tour of northern Scotland, on a staple diet of marmite sandwiches, H got a bit aggressive and resigned, leaving the old gentleman and his lady stranded miles from anywhere! Harry is not the most patient of men, and to picture him in a chauffeurs uniform is too ludicrous for words.

I didn't get up until 11am and after taking a bath I had luncheon with Mummy and Daddy, Sue and John and we discussed the pub business once again. Poor Mum didn't complain this time about being let down, but she so much would have liked the Station. Breweries just don't seem interested in them at all, so I imagine they'll have to buy a free house.

Carole rang me this afternoon and told me I sounded 'different'. As far as I know I don't think I've changed much in four days, but who knows.

Go down to her place at 8pm with John. Sit for half an hour with Carole, who looks divine, Mrs P and Peter, the elder of her two brothers. They discuss sex before marriage and fire questions at me to see if I can be embarrassed. To embarrass Mr Michael Rhodes is just about an impossibility.

We dashed over to the Hare for a few hours and came back to her place at 10.30 to see a film about Lucrezia Borgia (1949). It was quite good really, and I stayed until 12.30.

Walking to White Cross Dad saw us whilst driving around in his cop car and he ferried me home.

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Saturday October 11, 1975

At 3pm I go to 14, Oakridge Avenue yet again. I find a note pinned on the door from Carole asking me to go straight in because all the family have gone out, and she cannot be bothered to get out of bed. Upstairs I find John and Maria. They are helping her to polish off my box of chocolates. We sit on the bed and watch a cronic film on BBC2. Before I know what's happening I've fallen into a semi coma, and am roused something like an hour later by the noise of Mrs P coming in from shopping. Carole and I have tea together in her bedroom and I stay with her until about 7.30. The family are very nice really, but I always think Carole is far too hard on them - especially her little brother, Paul, who at 11 is only like other lads his age. She ought to treat kids more like equals. After all, she's only 17 herself. However, I do adore her.

To the Hare with John after seeing Carole, and I go home at 8.30 in order to change my clothes to go up to the Cow & Calf. Go to the C & C with Peter M, Lynn, Dave, CD, Carol Smith, Raymond &c, all going too. Have a good night but find I'm missing Carole's company. Home at 1.30 with Dave B and Lynn. Dave and I had a great sing-along on the way home.

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