Saturday December 16, 1978

Sun rises 08:00

Sun sets 15:52

Sunny and warm. Dave G's cheque arrived from Stockport in a  registered envelope and at 12:30 I caught a bus and buggered off to Bradford to pay the holiday deposit. The city was like the streets of Teheran have been in recent weeks and I resolved to remain in this swarming metropolis for as little as possible.

Met Denise at WH Smith's. She is remarkably thinner. I paid up and then carried her off to the Painted Wagon. It has been so long since we last met it is almost pointless trying to catch up on our experiences. We say we must have a night out soon, but how many times have we promised ourselves this and then done absolutely nothing about it?

Tonight Denise is going with Chris R to see Dave & Laura Pattison (Laura, nee Butchart). Chris and Michelle have finished. Denise is very changed. I suppose she thinks the same of me.

Lucy Lindsay-Hogg

Home at 3:30 to drink sherry with Mum and Susie. The wedding photographs of Lord Snowdon and Lucy Lindsay-Hogg are on the front pages of the newspapers. She is quite ugly. Her arrival at the register office is reminiscent of a housewife dashing to the Co~op  for a pack of toilet rolls. I feel so sorry for Princess Margaret because she has suffered irreparable damage this year over her divorce and friendship with Roddy Llewellyn. The divorce would never have happened but for the fact that Snowdon wanted to re~marry. She must be sad and lonely.

Tonight Lynn and Dave came and we sat round the Christmas tree drinking lager with whisky chasers until 1 in the morning. Mum was quite drunk and became quite nasty. When Sue and Pete came in she turned on Peter like a wild animal. Poor Susan was upset and I consoled her upstairs. She says Mum is always horrible with Peter when Dave B is present. David Baker is Mum's blue~eyed boy.

David severely gashed his finger on a corned~beef tin and the climax of the evening was a violent argument about Lillie Langtry. Mum and Lynn said she was a prostitute. A King's mistress can never be a prostitute.

-=-

Friday December 1, 1978

Still foggy and damp.

I phoned Michelle at the travel agents to enquire about apartments in Ibiza for next July or August. She said bookings are going well and many thousands are clamouring for foreign holidays after the disastrous summer at home. She will come back to me tomorrow or Monday. She has such a wonderful, sexy voice.

I did not go out on the razzle this evening. I met David B at 5:30 at Jacomelli's and we drove to Yeadon to collect Lynn at Morrison's. Back to Burley for din~dins and then Dave and I, clad in overalls, slapped gloss paint all over the downstairs living quarters. This was a historic event, because by midnight we had daubed our last splattering of paint on 7, Lawn Road, for some considerable time.

We had a few glasses of sherry to celebrate and watched a western on the microscopic TV and retired to bed at about 2. The house was icy cold, but Lynn had warmed my bed with a hot water bottle.

-=-

Tuesday May 23, 1978

Phoned Christine this afternoon and laughed about the usual things.

The so-called bus strike ended. It is estimated that it will cost ratepayers £1,000,000. I got an infernal omnibus to Guiseley for the first time in many weeks.

This evening I phoned Dave G to say the bill from Global Travel is finally in my hands. The holiday this year will cost us £176 (approx) each, and to think that in 1971 I went to Interlaken, Switzerland for a mere £40.

Dave was fine. He's looking forward with almost an insane passion to the San Antonio jaunt ~ in about seven weeks time.

Mother is still in one of her 'let's all moan at Michael' moods which doesn't do much for my patience or temper. It is equally infuriating to see Lawrence Rhodes, PC 1656, sitting through the barrage of abusive, slanderous drivel as though he is stone deaf.

I think you now have a clear picture that life isn't all roses and pea wine here at Pine Tops. However, I suppose things could be much, much worse. __________.

Whilst Her Majesty the Queen is in Bonn, over in London Princess Margaret and Lord Snowdon are about to be divorced. The petition is due to be heard tomorrow and the £16 'quickie' will set a precedent in the Royal House of Windsor that will not please many people. If I were a bishop I can tell you that I'd be bombarding The Times with lengthy epistles on the sanctity of family life.

-=-

Saturday March 4, 1978

Sun rises 06:40 Sun sets 17:46

Michelle's party at Shelf, near Halifax. At 8, Peter N took Sue, John, Maria and me to the Fleece. _________. I wore my new 31 inch jeans and boots. John said I look like a cowboy. Pete M finds my mode of dress amusing, but _______________.

At about 9pm we went to Shelf and the pub The Prince of Orange. I became quite pissed and suffered from hiccoughs on a phenomenal scale. A young lady called, I think, Darryl, befriended me, but she was in a worse state than I was. Michelle looked delectable but no way is she going out with Chris. They barely spoke to each other and she seemed to flit about with every other male at the party. At the party Darryl passed out in the dining room and was carried off to bed. I didn't lay eyes on her again. Shame. John Grady rolled up quite late. He seemed quite miserable. _______________. Steve and Charlie poured after shave lotion all over my head, but it was happy and boisterous. I like Steve because he's so consistent.

The party went far into Sunday morning. Sue, Pete, John, and Maria went off home after attempting to persuade me to join them. I was enjoying myself too much to go. We gave the record player some hammer until dawn. Sadly, as is often the case, people fell asleep, and by 4 or 5am I was bored and lonely. Telling Steve I was leaving I set out on foot down the road towards Bradford.

Wednesday January 25, 1978

Conversion of St. Paul.

No holiday news today because the magical Michelle is taking a day off. I spoke to Denise on the blower, a very brief conversation, because she was being stampeded under foot by milling, holiday-crazed Bradford folk.

I am battling along with 'Whose Body?' by Miss Sayers. I've glanced at Edward VI too.

Dad phoned John and Sheila because they are supposed to be heading for a new life in the Canaries tomorrow, but they've postponed their departure for a fortnight. Is he going to go at all? One certainly wonders. We have heard of great prospects before regarding Uncle John. He is however, a wonderful guy.

-=-

Sunday June 5, 1977

Trinity Sunday. Yes, collapsed at about 6.15am. The lounge was the site of this pathetic breakdown. Slept until elevenish. Never have I felt so miserable in my whole life when I eventually surfaced. Dark glasses were immediately salvaged from the wreckage that was once Pine Tops and breakfast was taken in horrific circumstances. The other participants, Dave, Glen, Martyn and the ladies Lynn & Sue all seemed to be calm and free from pain.

Commercial at Esholt

To the Commercial at noon. Yet more lager was consumed by Martyn and myself. Dave G had one miserable pint of bitter and then converted to Coca cola and Glen stuck to soft drinks throughout. Four or five pints later I felt infinitely better. Am I perhaps reliant on alcohol?

Tony came down with a buxom maiden and a split in his trousers and indulged in the usual frivolities. She, the buxom maiden, seemed quite nice, and in the usual cast.

with Martyn & Glen

Back to Pine Tops for lunch at 2. Martyn and I are pissed up. Dave, Glen, Martyn and I then went to see John & Maria and JPH for half an hour and then the lads returned to Stockport. I'll be going down to see them soon - my next free Saturday is June 25. I'll make a state visit then.

Lynn, Dave B, Sue, Pete N, Martyn and I went to the Flying Pizza in Leeds and had a Jubilee nosh up. A good laugh. It's a rare event these days to get out for something to eat. We do seem to be motivated by drink - a sad reflection on the youth of today. Forever Pissed, is an apt motto. On to the Oddfellows at Greengates where Michelle is with her boyfriend. Have a bit of a chat - but no mention of Friday's romantic grapple up against Tony's car.

-==-

Friday June 3, 1977

Dave of Stockport rings to say Glen is having a spot of car trouble and that they are now coming tomorrow instead.

Tony.

Tony and I spent the whole day in the garden sunbathing. Just sprawled out in the garden covered in sun tan lotion with the radio serenading us. Wonderful. Mother brought a halt to this when she asked us to go to Morrison's to do the weekly shop for her. We went up at 4 o'clock. Just imagine - me and Tony with a trolley and shopping bags. He's quite a good bargain finder too - he must be used to it what with him once being a married man & the obligations that go with that institution. Mother was very relieved and grateful when she saw the £14 worth of goods piled in the kitchen awaiting her inspection. She loathes shopping.

Meanwhile: that night. Out with Tony and Martyn to the Bod (Bradford) where we meet Michelle and her friends. A nice girl called Mary caught my eye. I have a feeling that Michelle fancies me. Do I fancy her? Well, she's very nice looking, perhaps a bit fat, but endowed with a sweet personality.

We all go on to the Hare & Hounds at Heaton which is very full. Martyn paled with anger and became quite violent in the seething pack of sweating bodies. Took Michelle and the girls home. We kissed against the car. Tony found this very funny sand suggested that Martyn might drive the car in future so that he could sit in the back. He couldn't see why I should have all the fun. In by 11.30pm.

-==-

Friday May 20, 1977

Get up late, and my arrival at the YP is quite a bit later than normal ....get home late too because the bleedin' traffic takes a turn (or quite a few turns) for the worst.

Martyn, Tony and I go to the Connection in Shipley. Quite a nice place and the money collector/barmaid/cleaner/cook from Wikis is behind the bar. We exchange reminiscences. Martyn chats up the buxom wench serving pizza but gets nowhere. Then on to the Bod to to meet Michelle and Maxine. Michelle is so sexy --  Ooolahlah!!

Chris and Peter.

Peter M and Chris arrive. Pete demands I accept his apology for the bullshit and crap he threw at me on May 10. I refuse. Martyn is treated abominably too. Michelle says Pete is a 'snob' and Chris is something else.

Back to Michelle's for coffee. We embrace and KISS in the car and thoroughly enjoy it. Whatever became of her lewd boyfriend? Home at 12.30am. Arrange to go watch the Cup Final at Tony's tomorrow. Sit drinking coffee in bed and grinding my teeth at the bitchiness of _______. BASTARDS!

Monday May 16, 1977

Down the lane with a Spring feeling. For some reason my coiffure is standing on end reminiscent of a good old lavatory brush. Go to my hair stylist and emerge 45 minutes later having waved bye bye to about three quarters of a ton of glossy hair. No doubt the peasants have bagged it up and sold it on the Black Market for   huge sums. If they can do it with King Charles I's miserable, ginger stuff I fail to see why they can't do it with mine.

Home by 2 o'clock. Mum is flat out in bed with her back. She's in agony. Dr Jacques comes but he's more interested in my bloody cheeseburger.

Sue: reading about lice ..

Sue is revising for her hair dressing examination and is reading all about lice and other residents of the hairy regions.

Tony comes up at 3 and we go to Bradford and to (WH) Smith's. I hand over £568.28 to Michelle and I'm sure I've never held so much in my hands (that's money, you perverted fool). Accompany Tony to the Co-op where he attempts to rid himself of some of his wares and then it's back to Smith's where we meet Martyn at 4.45. M bought a new pair of shoes and I bought a large poster of the Queen, in Imperial state crown in the Throne Room at Buckingham Palace.

Martyn and Tony are playing golf at Ben Rhydding this evening. I don't want to go. Saw Spike Milligan on TV and Monty python repeats.

Mummy emerged from bed for a few hours but complained of constant pain. The doc has advised her to buy an orthopaedic bed at the earliest opportunity. Ate fish and chips and retired after 12.

-=-

Friday May 13, 1977

I have reverted to my faithful old pen. Yes, it is Friday the Thirteenth. Pouring with rain when Mama wakes me at 10 o'clock to say she's been into the office but has returned because she feels unwell. She keeps dashing to the toilet - urine problem. She's wearing a path from her boudoir to the smallest room. (I realise it's probably indelicate to discuss such things here and it's quite abominable of me to record it for posterity, but I haven't much else to say).

Uncle Bert: diarrhoea

Walk into Guiseley with umberella and collect medicine for Motherdear and pay a social call on the Guiseley branch of the West Yorkshire Police force. Also went to the bank for £30 which boosts my holiday money up to £100.

Make lunch for Dad and I and Mum announces that Uncle Bert is coming tonight for the weekend. I don't believe I've seen him since Christmas 1973. Of course he's had a leg off since then and his other one isn't all that good. Oh My God, he's on a dismal decline at only 50.

Dad and I go to Leeds at 6 o'clock and pick up Uncle (Bert) at Quarry Hill flats for some reason. He is unrecognisable. Old isn't the word. I almost die laughing when Dad asks him how he is. "I have had diarrhoea" comes the reply, "and so on Wednesday I decided to take a couple of days off in lieu". No one but me found it funny.

Chris and Pete came at 8.30 and stood on the drive admiring John's new car. I am alarmed that Peter can pretend that Tuesday's conversation never took place. I am extremely cool with him ____________.

Tony and Martyn come and we go to the Bod and the Hare and Hounds at Heaton. Michelle and Co join us. I like Michelle immensely - so sweet and nice. In the Bod I told Pete to 'piss off'._________.

With Tony and Martyn to the Il Trovatore. Thoroughly boring.

-=-

Saturday February 26, 1977

A great day. Tony and Martyn come at 12.30 and the three of us go to Bradford. The Gay Liberation movement are holding a mass rally and we seriously consider setting up a 'Kiss Me Quick' stall in Manningham Lane.

Kiss Me Quick Stall?

We go to WH Smith's and make verbal love to Michelle. Delightful bird. Tony buys a pair of shoes, and at 2pm we set off for Uncle George's** residence at Harewood. Up to our knees in mud and slime we head straight for the beer tent where the lager is unbearably cold. Three sausage rolls later we decide that the hill climb is incredibly boring and we head back to the car which is parked in a cow field. Wading through water-bogged trenches we spot the car trapped in by three or four other vehicles. It's like the Battle of Vimy Ridge. Coated in shit we dislodge the car and set off like Japanese mud wrestlers in search of a car wash.

Meanwhile: That night. Down to the Hare with Tony, John & Maria. CB is pissed and says Richard Marshall is rotting in a dungeon in Leeds following an incident at the (Leeds) United match this afternoon. Chris and Pete M come in. Go with Tony, John and Maria to the Craven Heifer at Addingham and Chris and Pete follow on. Tony is such a great lad.

** The Rt Hon. Earl of Harewood.

-==-

Tuesday January 18, 1977

Sweet dreams until midday. The hour of 12 no less. I emerged from my bed in no placid frame of mind. I attempted to bite Mama's head off and swore and cursed as I devoured my lunch. People do tell me that I can change suddenly from being the perfect specimen of gentility to a snarling beast within seconds. A split personality do you think? My cousin ________is a schizophrenic so perhaps I am too. Is it hereditary? Yours worriedly, Mr Hyde. From my mental state to the physical side. I am much improved today, but not ready for the great responsibilities of the Yorkshire Post. Well, not until Thursday anyway. -=-

Cousin Sam, me and Papa ....

Michelle (the friendly travel agent) rang me this afternoon to say the Hotel Pacific was booked provisionally until 4.30. She is sweet. I ask her to hang on until tomorrow. I'm sure everyone will agree. I ring Chris and he says 'yes'. So does Peter M. Glenn rings and we go into raptures over 'Ibiza 77' chanting 'Up Pam' &c. Watch a play on the TV and discuss Papa's parentage with him before retiring to bed. He says his mother was born at a place called Lewis in Wiltshire. There are only two Lewises. One is in the Outer Hebrides and the other is spelt LEWES and is in Sussex - near Eastbourne. That must be the place, but first I'll write to Uncle Harry in Cumbria for confirmation.