Wednesday May 11, 1977

Don't hear a bloody thing until Mum and Dad come in for lunch at 1.45pm. Sat yawning over a cup of tea and then opened my mail. Two bloody letters. One from Helen Malin which points out I owe her £1 and not vice versa. Oh shit. I said that the royal baby would be born in the spring or summer of '77 and if it arrived any later I would pay up. What a horrific thought. The other is a letter from Kathryn. It is perfection itself and I settle down to reply and before I know where I am it's 4 o'clock and time to go to the dreaded YP.

Diary: red ink works wonders

Charged down the lane and got at bus. At the office for 5. I made enquiries about coaches for Saturday returning Sunday. Peter Mather amazes me __________.

Work was busy and tiresome. Ursula is very nice to work with. I do believe I experienced an erotic dream about her the other night. Of all people. I must be daft or something. How do you like my change of handwriting? Mrs Monkman, who left number 60 yesterday, gave me the pen. I do believe her brother sent it to her from Japan. One would have thought that the Japs would have caught onto the biro by now. I still think this nice red hue works wonders. Blue ink became so depressing.

The taxi driver tonight was no leading authority in any field. If he was he didn't bring it into the conversation.

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Wednesday December 29, 1976

A massive communal breakfast with John, Sheila, Mum and Dad, Valerie, Auntie Mabel, Lynne and Lynn, &c. J & S go off to Mrs Dorothy Holland's residence at Pudsey in order to collect cousin Robert and take him back to Oxford. I feel grotty and revolting. My bones ache. All the same, Lynne and I go to the Commercial for a couple of drinks. Even she says I look ill. We go on to Burley [in Wharfedale] so that she can telephone her beloved managing director or somebody equally high up in the fibre distributing hierarchy.

Dad, Mum, Auntie Mabel, Uncle John, Valerie, Sheila & Lynne

Royal Albert

Home for 'high tea' on the Royal Albert tea service with Mum, Dad and old Maud Monkman [born March 28, 1896]. It was the old girls 55th wedding anniversary on Boxing Day. God, she had more than half a century of married life. Not my cup of tea by any means whether it's on the Royal Albert or not.

At 4.15 Lynne goes off to York to get a train to London - strictly business of course - the fibre distributing business.

I sit in a crumpled heap by the fireside - a broken man. A physical wreck. I ring Judith R. to cancel our 'Pink Panther' arrangements for tonight. [Yes, Sue, Pete and I went down to the Hare at about 9pm on Dec 26 where I arranged a clandestine meeting with Miss Rushworth for tonight]. Jude is very considerate and I insist it is more of a postponement than a cancellation. Watch TV until midnight. Stuart called in at 9.30 to enquire about Friday. Arranged to meet at the Hare & Hounds.

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Monday May 31, 1976

Bank Holiday in England, N. Ireland and Wales. Wake up at 8.30 on the moors above Greenhow, not too far from Stump Cross Caverns. Feel slightly less like collapsing with pneumonia today, although today I'm still snuffling and wheezing somewhat.

After a makeshift breakfast of baked beans and coffee Pete, Chris and I march up a hillside which has a commanding view of the whole of the Dales. Get back to the vans at about 9.30 - my cold is cleared now. Drive home with Chris. ________________.

Arrive home at 10.30am and receive severe injuries from Mum & Dad about THAT PARTY.
Mum gives me a complete run down on how many glasses have been broken, and she demands to know just WHO has slept in her bed. Bloody Hell, I feel like Goldilocks and the Three Bears. I remain silent on the subject. What can I possibly say to defend myself? I know I deceived them by having an orgy behind their backs, but boys will be boys won't they? To console them I take them to the Commercial at 1pm. Prop up the bar therein until 3 and we all come home in a pleasant, less explosive frame of mind.

My good deed of the day is to cut Mrs Monkman's lawns at 4 o'clock and later entertain her over a cup of tea. Feel dog tired all evening and go to bed at 11 o'clock.

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Monday May 24, 1976

Hear the alarm clock for the first time in months and lay awake until I hear Lynn plodding around the house at 7.30. She complains about me having a party as though I'm a small child. What's happened to the adventurous, boisterous sister of mine? If a lad can't have a bit of a party occasionally he might as well go live in a Russian labour camp or something. All work and no play isn't something I adhere to at all. Is poor Lynn forgetting what it's like to indulge in a bit of good, old, dirty fun?

Work: we laugh at Saturday night and Sunday mornings escapades. Evidently, when I was at Carol's I was chasing one of the cats all over the building in awe at the sight of such an amazing creature. On being reminded that I am severely allergic our feline friends I am reported to have exclaimed: "Oh, is she a cat?" What on earth did I imagine I was so attentively pursuing? This question, unfortunately, remains unanswered.

Sarah tells me that Peter B thinks he knows me from somewhere. I tell her his face is very familiar. Where have we crossed paths before? This is another mysterious, unanswerable question.

Home at 5.15 after calling in at a shop in Guiseley for a loaf. Chicken and chips for tea with Lynn & Susan. Just the three of us. Sometimes I feel that our family is dwindling away. Things are bad enough without John, and Mum and Dad away make something of a large gap. Lynn tells me that she met CB this morning, who told her every detail of Saturdays events. I cringe at the very thought of CB's colourful descriptions of Mrs Monkman yelling abuse from her bedroom window and other tales of a blood-curdling nature. A sharp, rebuking letter is called for. I don't believe in hiding things from Lynn or purposely deceiving her, but the complete gory details are quite unnecessary. Dear me.

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Thursday May 13, 1976

Pay day. Meet Dave B for lunch at the Ostlers. Purchase the LP 'Elton John's Greatest Hits' and ordered 'Island Girl' and 'Someone Saved My Life Tonight'. Busy time really. Lunch 12.30-2pm. Writing it all in brief because I cannot be bothered with detail. Home on train at 6pm and hear that Harry Monkman died at Falmouth in the night. I last spoke to him a week last Wednesday when he passed comment that his lawn was in a far better condition than ours. He'd just put tons of fertilizer all over his, at great expense, and I'm saddened that he'll never see the lush growth that his labours will undoubtedly produce. He must have been 80, and I feel a bit sorry for Maud, who is almost blind. I was never fond of him.

Ring Dave L who came out of hospital today. He will be out and about tomorrow night - but no alcohol whatsoever. Glad he's home. Probably going to see 'Cabaret' on Saturday. Dave B brings me the 'Who Loves You' LP from Denise. She bought me it in return for the Cow & Calf excursion last week. Play both LPs - they're really great.

Hear that Uncle Peter came for lunch today. He's brilliant - salt of the earth.

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