Saturday June 4, 1977

Tony and Martyn come this morning to help me put up the Jubilee bunting for the party. A large poster of the Queen in full regalia in the ballroom at Buckingham Palace goes up in a prominent position in the lounge along with Jubilee balloons and a Norman Parkinson portrait too. Very patriotic indeed.

The lads went to Bradford but I stayed at home waiting for Dave and Glen to join us. They arrived at 3.30 and after lunch I took them to Otley where we find an of-licence shop for wine and ale. The three of us spent about £3 each.  We get on famously and Dave is anxious to know when I'm going to Stockport again. The night at the Poco Club was a fabulous evening and it's a shame we don't all meet up more frequently.

Edith & Ernest

Tony, Martyn, Dave, Glen and I went to the Commercial together. Mum, Dad, John, Maria, Sue, Peter, Lynn, Dave B, Dave L, MM, Marita, Sarah, Peter B, Chris, Peter N are in the pub. Not many, and no 'spare' ladies at all. Chris and Pete _________.They're shocked when I say I won't be going to Denise's 21st. I'll be in Stockport on July 9. They took this news very badly. Peter Baker and Sarah had some sort of disagreement in the pub and he took her off home after half an hour or so much to my astonishment. I rang her at 11.30 but she hadn't arrived home and so I presume they must have 'made up' and gone elsewhere.

The throng was joined at home by Edith and Ernest and Mike and Maureen Eccles (the new neighbours). Not many at all really and Lynn says it's the quietest party of all time. I wasn't too pissed and yet I cannot recall much to report. Parties tend to blend together and a six hour spree can be condensed into the space of a few minutes. Glen and I were the last men standing and we were in the dining room listening to Cinzano and drinking the Santana LP 'Abraxas' ...or was it the other way round? I had a couple of cigarettes. That's the minute of my miserable life. It was agonizing watching the dawn break over Tranmere Park and the dreadful racket made by the birds. Oh, my head!

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Friday May 27, 1977

Beautiful, hot, marvellous day. By 10.30 I'm in the garden covered head to foot in sun-tan oil, reminiscent of a Roman gladiator, and it's in this idyllic pose that I remained throughout the day, breaking off only for lunch.

My Jubilee party is secure. How did I manage it? Well, Mrs Eccles, our new neighbour, was in the garden talking about the noise the workmen are making in her house and expressed her hope that we are not put out by the banging. 'Oh no', said I, 'we're always making loud noises too, you know.Parties and things'. Before I could sit and savour my craftiness here I'd invited her and her hubby to our party on June 4, and Mama, lurking behind a clump of dying tulips, just couldn't say anything. So, it's all on.

How does one manage to get a job in Spain? Do I write to the Spanish Ambassador to the Court of St James? I am very much aware that I asked this question on Wednesday but I've still done bugger all about finding out.

Taking a bath this evening was painful. I realise I've over done it with the sunbathing. In fact I'm not so much like a gladiator now, more like a heap of tomatoes, or pot of lobsters.

Tony rings to say Carole is joining us tonight. I readily approve. Susan joins us without Peter N. He's in Durham at a party with some friends. Independent Pete, eh?

Sue

To the Bod with Sue, Carole, Martyn and Tony. T picks up a tart called Maureen who resembles Shirley Bassey. A bit of a laugh. Very strange to be with Susan and not Peter too. She looks a bit lost as well.

I begin to feel ill a shake with cold. Carole offers no sympathy. She just smiles and says 'serves you right'. Bless her heart. Home at 11.30. To bed with a hot water bottle and an extra blanket. Feel delirious and realise I have bloody sun stroke. Lynn shows some concern and she sits on the edge of my bed offering assurance. By 12 I vomit and then go to sleep. Never felt anything like it before and can't quite understand how it takes 22 years to come to grief in the sun.

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