Monday January 1, 1979

Bank Holiday in England, Ireland, Scotland and Wales

Hullo.

Well, here we go again. We arrived (that is, Sue, Pete, Lynn, Dave and me) at Pine Tops at a little after midnight. We let in the New Year. I kissed mother and gave her a lump of coal (why?).

We had a few drinks and chatted with various people on the phone. Dave G phoned from Stockport hospital. We ate a good deal and waited for John and Maria but they never materialised.

I walked down the lane in driving snow to Molly & Jim's. It was my first meeting with Molly since before July '77. Drank and ate there. Eventually, at about 5am, only Jimmy (Jun) and I remained. Karim _____________. Listened to weird music and had a lengthy conversation about drugs.

Home in bright sun and crisp snow at 8am. Slept until 2. Had a frosty reception from Mum and Dad _________.

Watched the telly. A Tommy Steele film of all things. Bed with square eyes at 1am.

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Monday September 25, 1978

John's 22nd birthday. In Stranraer ~ no doubt knee deep in heather, haggis and Moira Anderson. I couldn't think of a more ghastly fate. He received his birthday parcel because Dad ran into Molly and she told him they'd been to Ayr Races and had called to see John and Maria at Lochans at the weekend and his presents were displayed in the caravan. __________.

I met Jacq on Wellington Street at lunchtime and she handed over Sue's shoes and trousers, borrowed on various occasions after 'orgious' activities, &c.

We are going to Lawn Road for tea on Wednesday. Mum and Dad spent the evening with Lynn & Dave tonight, while Sue, Pete and I sat bunched in front of the TV here. I buried myself in Toland's 'Adolf Hitler'. I'm reading about his escapades in the 1920s at the moment.

I poked around in the kitchen undecided about just what to devour and finally gulped down a jar of glacé cherries. To bed at 11.

Note: I knew that Mary Malcolm, the ancient broadcaster, was a granddaughter of Lillie Langtry, but had no idea that Mary's grandfather was H.S.H. Prince Louis of Battenberg, 1st Marquess of Milford Haven.

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Tuesday May 24, 1977

Phoned Carole this morning to arrange Thursday night's meeting. Yes, it's Oakwood Hall, folks. She has not much to say other than she plans to wear the white creation with rope and other ornaments hanging from it - the one she wore one evening last June - when I asked her why she couldn't afford a proper belt. She always calls me 'Pet'.

Bananas: grow upwards

At 7pm I go to John & Maria's with a bunch of photographs that arrived this morning. Some excellent ones of JPH and my birthday 'freak out'. The baby won't sleep and the arrival of George (Waite), Jane, Molly and Jim doesn't help really. Molly walks in and goes off on a tangent about her recent Majorca holiday: "The cathedral at Palma was built in 1167 and it took four hundred years to complete and do you know bananas grow upwards? Because I always thought they hung downwards, like that, and Oh the food was first class, and we had lobster one night for an extra £2.67 which was really good compared with other hotels around because a nice girl we met from Manchester couldn't touch the meals served in her hotel, mind you she went with Thomson's who are usually very good and Oh the Caves of Drach were marvellous but the coach there was a bit on the long side and we didn't really like the wine bodegas like you would it's Jim's stomach you know....."  Just a sample of the great Molly for you. Jim gives me a lift home at 9.30.

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Monday May 23, 1977

Dull, overcast day. The YP wasn't in any way exciting and so I won't bother you with any of the miserable details.

At tea time I see Mum and Dad for the first time since Saturday morning. She went to Molly & Jim's last night to meet Hugh. They are full of tales of JPH and go into raptures about his overnight stay at Pine Tops on Saturday night.

Just watch soddin' TV in the evening. Feature film 'One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich' based on the book by Solzenhitsyn - and not a very pleasant day for Ivan either. All it was really was some poor buggers digging holes in sub zero temperatures and eating fish heads and rabbit entrails.

The Prince of Wales was invested with the Order of the Thistle in Edinburgh this morning and I suspect that the Queen and the Queen Mother won't be feeling all that happy because BOTH their detectives, Sir Edward Perkins, KCVO and Chief Supt Sumner, have dropped dead on the Scottish visit over the weekend. A bit too much of a coincidence I fear.

Lynn is enjoying things at the Hare & Hounds, but I'm determined to avoid the place. It's been three weeks now and I haven't missed it, or any of it's inmates. A complete change was what I needed and I am enjoying it thoroughly.

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Saturday January 29, 1977

Emerge (from my bed) at 11 or so and hear that Lynn and Lynne are going shopping together to Bradford this afternoon which is a relief because NEVER AGAIN will I go shopping with Miss Mather. Our shopping excursion the Saturday before Christmas was one of the most nauseating experiences I have ever had. I'm not joking either. She goes down to Burley-in-W (Lynne that is) to see Stephanie Ferguson about sharing her country residence and comes back saying the rental for the room is £7 plus food and half the bills. Not bad because she forks out £7 already in petrol each week.

Lynn in her dungarees.

Lynn and Lynne return from Bradford at 5 o'clock with a pair of dungarees each. _______. We go to to the Hare at 9 o'clock after collecting John and Maria from Molly & Jim's. Chris, Pete M, Lynne, Lynn, Dave B, Sue, Peter N, Christine D, Graham (Airey), CB (with Rick Marshall !!). Quite a good evening really, especially when Chris gave me the £5 he'd borrowed and which I'd quite forgotten about. Stay at the Hare until 11 and then we take John & Maria back to Molly & Jim's where we remain until 3.15am talking with Molly. She went into great detail about an Edward G. Robinson film that had just finished on the telly. I think she's tremendous and sit enthralled, but by 2.45 John and Lynne were asleep. Only Maria and I survived.

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Wednesday January 12, 1977

Miss Braithwaite, or 'CB'.

Have a damnable headache but I'm not sure it's a hangover. Blimey, did I have all that lqiuid refreshment last night? No, I didn't. Out tonight with Miss Christine Braithwaite, spinster of the parish of Horsforth. But first, a family gathering. I went to John and Maria's at 5.30 to find Maria dashing off to a recital, and Molly and Jim were just arriving too. John, Molly, Jim and I have tea together whilst baby JPH gurgles and vomits on the settee. The little fellow is becoming heavy. Jim brings me up home at 8, and by 8.35 I'm down Thorpe Lane and lodged in the Hare. CB and I have one drink and then go to Neville's [Ilkley] for a bottle of wine and then the Fish Dish for one of each. CB tells me a tale of woe indeed. What a changed person she is. She's not drinking to excess any more and has a much 'quieter' outlook. She was quite ill before Christmas and the sordid New Year hasn't helped at all. She is a great friend. CB could never be anything else. However, I fear she's obsessed with death. She kept saying she has a feeling inside that she won't 'be around' [i.e. alive] next Christmas! What an awful thing? I couldn't stand life without CB to make me laugh. She says that she won't look at a man again unless his pockets are crammed with cash, has a villa in Capri and an E-type Jag parked on his Georgian-style driveway. God Almighty! -==-

Wednesday October 6, 1976

Good Old Uncle Harry's birthday [54th]. Take my umberella with me to Leeds this morning and, quite naturally, this particular region of the British Isles sees temperatures in the mid-nineties. Not a drop of rain to be felt within 48 million miles of my soddin' umberella.

See in the late editions of the EP that Margaret Hilda Thatcher attended the memorial service for the late Sir Edward Heath, thus ending months of speculation that at the time of the former PM's death the pair were not on the best of terms. Margaret Hilda really should have Sir Edward stuffed, mounted and placed on castors so that she can wheel the old gent onto the platform at the party conference each year. Votes would pour in.

Take the bear round to John's at 6 o'clock with Mum. See JPH and actually hold him in my arms. He's absolutely gorgeous. Mum cannot take her eyes off him. He was more interested in sucking his clothes and even thought Mum's ear was a source of nourishment. Maria looked a little pale. Didn't see much of John. Molly was full of cold, and so was Jim. Home at 7 o'clock for dinner and then it's decorating the hall and landing until 11.45pm. Believe it or not, I quite enjoy daubing paint on doors, walls and banisters, &c. So rewarding to stand back when it's all completed knowing you are responsible for the whole bloody lot.

-==-

Wednesday September 29, 1976

CB rings to say she is the proud owner of an automobile. A Triumph 1300 to be precise. Arrange to go out for a drink at 8pm.

[Hold on a bloody minute the lot of you. Mr Michael Rhodes took the day off to do a spot of decorating and of course to see Miss Lynne Mather off from Yeadon on her trip to good old Spain. She flew off at 9.30 in something of a misty spell. Won't be back until Saturday week.]

CB and I go for a drink to a dead Hare & Hounds and then onto to Emmott Arms where Keith Brown is behind the bar dishing up ale. Half an hour in that God forsaken hole was enough, but, to our horror, we find we are trapped in the carpark by another car. CB attempts to manoevre the machine through a gap in a stone wall whilst I go back into the bar to find the owner of the offending vehicle. On returning to the carpark I'm almost overcome by the fumes of burning rubber and masonry, and can see from CB's face that all is far from well. "I've scratched the bloody car", she yells, and with that we rocket off to the Fox & Hounds. As well as a scratch she's managed to unhinge the bloody car door. To the Hare for the last one and home at 1045. CB drives off with her car door flapping.

Molly and Jim are just leaving with John after visiting Maria in Hyde Terrace. At midnight Molly is on the phone saying Maria is in labour! At last! At 1am, or so, John, Mum, Molly and Jim go off to Leeds again. Poor John of course is car-less at the moment. Lynn and I sit waiting for news. By 5am I am too tired to keep awake and fall into a nervous unconsciousness on the settee.

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Friday August 27, 1976

Mum is bedridden with her back. I don't like being at home when a member of the family is ill. I have a pathological hatred of poorly people. I'd walk round Lourdes slapping cripples.

Poor Molly Macdonald is at death's door. John told Dad today that she burst a blood vessel in her arm yesterday evening and a doctor told Jim [Macdonald] that 'she could go at any minute.'

Sarah told me today that she and Peter [Baker] have finished. Pity really because he was quite a good laugh, but at least I stand a chance once again. Oh, I might have been going out with Lynne M since June, but that devilment still exists. You can't keep a good man down.

Out with Lynne at 8 o'clock to the Hare. A dead, miserable hole it is too. Sit with Sue and Peter all night, and then David L and the delectable CB arrive at 10 o'clock. Whenever she's around I go wild with exuberence and excitement and our eyes seldom drift from each other for long. Why is this? Is it cruel to Lynne? Do I really think anything at all of Lynne? What the Hell have I been doing since the beginning of June? Oh God. Have I been leading L down the garden path? After Carole, will I ever have a normal affair again? [I'm not offering any apologies for all these questions because you lot have nothing better to do than to attempt to answer them, anyway.]

Home at midnight and Lynne goes off to Bramhope to collect Karl from a party and they drive to Thornton-le-Dale. Won't see her now until next week.

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Sunday March 14, 1976

2nd in Lent. John's first full day as a married man. I am up at 12.15. Uncle Harry explained the symptoms of his chill to me over morning tea.

In Lynn's bedroom Carole is apologising for being ill last night. I keep thinking about what Jackie said to me ____________. I really do think she is enormously attractive.

Have a cooked breakfast with Mum. John and Maria rang from the hotel this morning. They're leaving for Scotland before lunch and hope to be over the border in time for their evening meal at their hotel in Howick. He (John) was laughing at Maria's insatiable desire for food. A lovely girl though. Stunned at the thought of having a sister-in-law.

Carole gets up for an hour and then goes back to bed. I'm concerned that she hasn't eaten a thing since the wedding reception.

See "The Barrett's of Wimpole Street" on TV this afternoon and decide that the most talented star in the whole film is 'Flush' Elizabeth Barrett Browning's pet spaniel.

Carole emerges from her pit at 7.30. Drink vodka (except Carole that is). Take photos with my polaroid camera. Carole is still unwell and sits trembling like a leaf, from shock I think, and as Molly Macdonald told me this morning, it sometimes takes a year to get over an accident like that.

David takes Carole home at 11 and I retire to a bedroom. A bedroom without John, which is weird and unusual.

-=-

Sunday February 29, 1976

Quinquagesima. It's the first time that February 29 has fallen on a Sunday since 1948, and it won't fall again on the Sabbath until 2004. Aren't I a walking encyclopaedia then? If you think I'm going to divulge just where I found this item of information you'll have one Hell of a wait because I'm not going to tell you until 2004. See you all then.

A nice day and John and I go for a drive in the spitfire with the roof off to Burley-in-Wharfedale. We get Mum a plant from a garden centre and heading home for lunch we see Carole at the bus stop waiting for the bus to come up to ours. John goes down to pick her up whilst I have lunch and she sits in the dining room with great expectations of going for a walk afterwards. Maria comes round with Prinny (spaniel) and she chats with Mum about the flowers. I can't believe my eyes when I look at Maria. She's getting enormous, and the heir to the Rhodes Empire isn't due until September.

Carole and I walk round Tranmere and call on Molly. She talks for hours and we don't get out until after 4 when it starts to rain.

Dad and John are decorating Maria's bedroom and I almost feel sorry for them both as they peep at us from the Georgian-style windows of 14, Ridgeway.

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Saturday February 14, 1976

Valentine's Day. Get up at 11.30 and give Carole her Valentine's card in person. Mine hasn't arrived and she's worried about the whereabouts of it. It arrives in the afternoon. I also received a card from Christine, which is a birthday card for a one-year old and it has me in stitches. Get no others, but it's two better than last year at least which proved Valentinecardless.

Mum and Dad go out after lunch and John messes about with his car whilst Maria, Lynn and Sue go bridesmaid dress purchasing. Mrs Macdonald has taken it upon herself to decide what everybody is wearing at the forthcoming wedding.

Down to the Hare tonight after collecting Carole from Oakridge Castle. Mrs Phillips is a bit ratty about Carole not going home last night but at least she's speaking which is a gigantic step towards re-establishing diplomatic relations.

After the Hare Carole, Christine B and Chris and I go to Bingley and then up to Oakwood Hall which is a laugh. I get rather pissed. The four of us pile back to Pine Tops for coffee and a riotous session follows in the lounge where CB takes a fancy to Mum's new sheepskin rug. Mama is roused and shouts down saying "it sounds like a fairground". Not another word was spoken.

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Tuesday January 27, 1976

I despatched a letter to David in Worcester on the John/Maria subject. I hope he'll get home for the celebrations this coming weekend.

Work was quite busy and I'm still doing the YP indexing with Sarah, who tells me, incidentally, that her father has been promoted and sent to Sheffield. Is this goodbye to Sarah Collis? If it is I won't bother coming all the way to the YP from Ripon, because she's the only decent person in the place.

I come home from work to find Dad in bed completely taken over by 'flu, and Mum isn't in a much better state, and is making dinner.

John rushes in and has a bath and then goes straight to see the priest (Father Scannell), with Maria, at Burley-in-Wharfedale. John hob nobbing with Roman Catholic priests in the dead of night! Who'd have thought it? You could knock me down with a feather, you really could.

It came to me today that my life with John is more or less over. For twenty years we have seen each other every day, and it's going to be hard getting used to not having him around. For 20 years we've shared a bedroom, and in just over six weeks he'll be gone forever - sad really.

Molly Macdonald rings at 8.30 to confirm that the wedding day is March 13, and it will take place at Burley, and that the reception will be at Acacia House, and that each family can have 25 guests each not including the principal participants. I am confimed as best man, and Lynn, Susan and Elizabeth will be bridesmaids. I'm having a nervous breakdown.______________.

Bed at midnight after no sighting of the -happy couple'. _________.

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Thursday January 15, 1976

When John came in from the pub last night we had a very intimate chat about our relationship with the ladies, and the following items of interest were disclosed. 1). Mrs P(hillips) went to see Molly Macdonald last Thursday afternoon and sat ranting and raving about the way I used Carole and how I let her buy all my Christmas presents and how I let her take me out all through the week and how I let her buy all the drinks and how I have the cheek to arrange a holiday without taking Carole with me!! Maria was witness to all this defamatory chit-chat and was angered by the way Mrs P started making the same claims about John. This incident coincides with Carole's behaviour on Friday. John also told me that Carole wasn't __________.
I was horrified and laid awake for hours thinking of the evilness of some people, and how some people have the nerve to go to church on a Sunday and then act like the devil for the rest of the week. Has Carole given her mother this impression, or does Mrs P just assume that this is going on? John also commented on how much Carole has changed, as did David at the weekend. _______________________.

I woke up today at 12.45pm. Feel a bit better after a long sleep and have fish and chips with John. Mum comes in from work at 1.30 and when Dad gets up I tell them about the things Mrs P's been saying. Dad gives me his advice and talks about women in general and the complex way they look at things. Mum says it's obvious that Carole thinks a lot more of me than I do of her and advises me to have a change if I feel bored and suffocated. I do feel suffocated and wish I were free of the ties, and I intend doing something about it shortly. OK, I like Carole, but marriage is not quite on for me, mate. Dad says he is so lucky because he met Mum when he was 16 and decided immediately that he wanted nobody else. Love like that must ne great.
However, I'm longer in the tooth and harder to match up with anyone.

Carole rings twice and is in tears on both occasions. I just feel useless and clumsy listening to a weeping, wailing woman slobbering down the phone in inaudible moans. We must get to the bottom of this trouble because it's getting on my nerves.

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Sunday January 11, 1976

1st Sunday after Epiphany. Wake up at about 11.30 for a cooked breakfast with the family and Carole, who passed a peaceful few hours sleep on the lounge sofa.

At 12 o'clock we (David B, Peter, Carole and Maria included) set off for Kirby Malzeard and the Henry Jenkins Inn. I feel a bit wheezy sat in the back of Dad's car and have the windows well wound down thus to encourage the ice cold moorland air to blast against my sickly, hungover-ridden face. Arrive about an hour later and fall in love with the place immediately.

We all want Mum and Dad to get the pub with the exception of Sue and Peter, who keep insisting that it's too far away. We leave at 2.30 after having a stroll round the village and go on to Ripon and then home.

Maria went home to hear that her grandfather (Savage) died at four o'clock this afternoon. He's been in a coma for a few days and I'm sure that it's a blessing really. Nobody should have to suffer like that at 86.

Carole goes home at 7pm and I'm just about sick of our relationship. (Sentence deleted.)

Chris and Peter come at 8pm and we choose some holidays.Ibiza seems to be the likely spot and July 3-17 the dates. At 10 we go down to the Commercial with Dave B for a quick one, two or three.

Home at 11 to discuss the Kirby Malzeard move. Sue and Peter will just have to get used to the idea that they can't live in one anothers laps for the rest of their lives.

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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 October 4, 1975

Nearly 1pm when I finally raised my weary head from the sheets. John is plodding around in the bedroom saying he's been at work all morning and calling me lazy this, lazy that and lazy the other.

Lynn and CD go into town , and I sit about waiting for Carole to ring me. She rings from 'George's' at about 3pm and orders me to go round with a pile of LPs and the Martin book on the Duke and Duchess of Windsor. I walk round in the rain half an hour later. John is of course with Maria (from now on I'll stop using the name 'George' when refering to Maria Macdonald. It's a childish practice dating back 5 years, and not a bit complementary to the young lady in question). They creep off upstairs some ten minutes after I arrive.

Carole and I pass a romantic afternoon alone, and we play 'Kimono my house' the LP by Sparks. She sews up the bottom of my jeans - whilst I am still wearing them - but whilst she's doing it I notice a change in her. The poor thing went very quiet, and looked really ill. I sat with my arms round her and she told me that one of her headaches had come on again. I told her to go to bed, and insist on my staying in with her for the evening, but she wouldn't hear of it. She came to the Hare & Hounds and I told her I'd willingly stay at home with her. Women! But at 10pm her head cleared and she laughed for the first time today. I didn't realise just how much I depend on her to keep me cheery. All the others wanted to go to the Cow & Calf, but Carole, Sue, Pete N and me decided to go back to Maria's for the night. Mr & Mrs Macdonald are in Cardiff or somewhere. So only the four of us were in until John and Maria come back at 2.30am.

Sue and Peter were alseep on the settee for the last hour whilst we played records. Home at 4am after coffee.

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Monday September 8, 1975

I've just been flicking through the entries for July and I'm horrified by some of the terrible things I've said about Carole. I really do not know why I should have taken that attitude. I met her on July 12 and immediately decided she 'wasn't my type'. Then, on July 13, I said 'she isn't going to be easy to get rid of'. Then on the 16th of the same month I labelled her a 'bitch'. By the 19th I was having second thoughts about my not liking her, and four days after that, on the 23rd, I'd quite fallen for her. She went on holiday on the 26th and I didn't see her again until I returned from Majorca on August 23. I could of course erase all the terrible references about her from my diary, but that would be censorship, which simply won't do. Let us hope that they never fall into her hands that's all - the diaries I mean.

Work wasn't too busy and I was home at 5.30 in a starved state ready for tea. John doesn't get in until 6.30 because his damned car broke down. The poor boy is forever plaged with useless cars and no matter what he does to try to fix them they rarely seem to go. One would think that a five year-old Triumph Spitfire would be a bit more reliable. In his attempts to get it home he was compelled to leave it in Guiseley, and at 8pm I went out to help him push it up the lane. You have no idea just how steep Hawksworth Lane is until you try to push half a ton of metal up it. In the process of doing this I went over on my ankle and had to stagger home.

Mum went off to the Commercial to do her bit for the nation and I sat with my foot up watching 'Al Capone', starring Rod Steiger. John brings 'George', and I don't think I mentioned what happened last night. When the girls had left at about 11.30 we said we'd signal to one another across Tranmere Park by flashing our bedroom lights on and off. It was a great success, and we learned tonight that even Mrs Macdonald was participating.

'George' stayed for her supper and left at about midnight. Mum came home at about the same time after having had a good night.

Carole rang me at 7pm and I said we should go out tomorrow. She said something about me seeing a lot of her lately, but I really don't think I have. Wednesdays, Fridays, Saturdays and Sundays isn't every day of the week is it? After great mathematical calculations I realise I do ot see her on Mondays, Tuesdays and Thursdays.

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Saturday August 30, 1975

Wake at about 11.30 and hear Mum talking with CB downstairs. Poor Mum takes these overnight visitations from my friends very well, and I'm sure no other mother in the world is more understanding.

Please don't think it odd that though I'm going out with someone Christine can still come up and stay the night. She always sleeps on a camp bed in the dining room, and the only reason why she stays in the first place is because it's impossible for her to get home after we've been to Wikis - other than by taxi that is, which is far too expensive. She leaves before I get up, and Mum and Dad drop her off in Guiseley before going on to the wedding of Philip, one of Dad's young policemen friends.

The day is cold and rainy, and after sitting about listening to the record player for over an hour Maria rings me and asks me to go round to plant the little bush I gave her the other day. I go round at 2 and receive a conducted tour of the garden of 14, Ridgeway, Tranmere Park, by Mrs Molly Macdonald, the noted Irish conversationalist and wit. I then spent an hour listening to Mrs M's childhood reminiscences which have me, 'George' and Pam Moffatt in stitches. At 5pm it's much too wet to walk home so Mr Macdonald brings me home in the car.

To the Hare & Hounds at 8.30. Dave has gone to the dogs - quite literally - to the greyhound racing in Leeds with his Dad, and the rest of the gang, including Chris, stay at the Hare until about 10.30 when we all move on to the Fox. After a chase through Ilkley looking for Martyn Cole, whose birthday it is, we all end up at the Cow & Calf. Dance ourselves to death and decide I must have danced away three and a half stones this weekend. Back to Peter Mather's place until 4.30am. Andy brings us home in style.

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