Friday March 30, 1979

_. The Liberals have won Edge Hill from Labour in yesterday's by-election, but this news is overshadowed by a hideous crime committed outside the Houses of Parliament  this afternoon. Airey Neave, the opposition spokesman for Northern Ireland and one of Mrs Thatcher's closest friends, was assassinated when his car was blown up in the MPs underground car park, at 3pm. He is the first MP to be murdered in the precincts of the Houses of Parliament since prime minister Spencer Perceval was shot there in 1812.

Airey Neave: like a Guy Fawkes dummy.

I was delayed at the YP because of Neave's murder and the shock really hit us all. It is a hideous, brutal crime against a good gentleman and MP. Mrs Thatcher cancelled a BBC broadcast scheduled for this evening and returned to her home broken and shattered. Will the loss of this close influential aide affect Mrs T's electioneering? We shall have to wait and see.

Ursula phoned tonight and said she had been speaking to a reporter at the scene. His description of the dead Mr Neave is almost too hideous to describe. The mans limbs had been torn off and his crumpled remains resembled a Guy Fawkes dummy.

Tonight: Out with Sue and Pete to the Shoulder. Joined by Chippy and Debbie. Went on to the White Cross. It was slightly better here. Met Naomi and Jill. Naomi told me she has bought Mick Orchard's house on Victoria Road. They are out next Thursday to celebrate my birthday.



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Saturday February 22, 1975

Don't climb from 'neath the sheets until 12.05. Take a liberal breakast (not Jeremy Thorpe on toast) then John suggests a trip in the ailing car. We go up to Yeadon, but don't stop, and rocket in the direction of Otley. On our arrival at the place of Thomas Chippendale's birth we seek solace in the Black Bull, a homely ale house of little ostentation, with friendly, genial locals. Only consume one pint each before venturing home.

We spend the remainder of the afternoon with Sue & Pete in the lounge playing a selection of records old and new. Mum in the meantime attempts to bake cakes in the kitchen, and we only realise at tea time to what extent she went to make such a vile creation. If you'd seen the cake you'd certainly realise I'm not exaggerating.

At about 7 I departed to the bathroom with a pair of nail scissors and a mirror. Half an hour later I emerged with a new hair-style - semi-short and shaggy, but quite good really considering.

To the Hare & Hounds again. Dave is home again and once more in our midst. So we were garaunteed an eventful evening. John, Naomi, Andy, Linda, Peter Mather, Carol and her latest friend went to Rockerfellas leaving the remaining people in the Hare until nearly 11. Dave goes off to Mick Orchard's at 11, saying he'll sdee us in two weeks, and the remaining chosen few come back to Pine Tops to see a pathetic film, 'The Reptile'. Bed at 1.30am.

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Saturday June 30, 1973

My last Saturday at the CW. Get up at 8.30 to the sound of concrete pouring onto the drive. Papa is re-laying the drive immediately in front of the garage. Get up and act as labourer to Dad and John until 10.30. Mother, Lynn and Sue have breakfast whilst John and I prepare to go to Bradford - haircut.

Leave 11. A brilliant sunny, hot day. Walk all the way to the bottom of Hawksworth Lane and then have to walk all the way back up to collect my library books - get the bus at 11.30. Have our hair cut at 12.30 - 45p each - not bad at all. On the way to the bus we see 'Aunt Bore' - she really is a catty old cow, putting it politely. Arrive Guiseley 1.30.

Go to Usshers where John buys sunglasses. See Dave with Mick Orchard - heading to Leeds shopping - looking very secretive.

Go to Fieldhead Road School gala. See Mrs West, James, Mrs Kingsbury, etc. Mr Illingworth really is a snob and a pig. Just because Papa and Mama are not members of the Parents Teachers' Association he choses to ignore us. Good luck to the old creep, that's what I say.

Arrive home where Mum entertains Maureen, her old school mate from the 1700s.

Go to CW. Pauline is with a darker mop of dyed hair. She's sad that it's my final Saturday - or so she says. Unusual night. Home by 1.30. Bed at 2.0am.

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