Saturday January 13, 1979

Dave (Glynn) and I had breakfast with Sue. Poor Mum is in bed with an upset stomach & so she didn't surface all day. Pale and ghastly.

Dave and I had a little pub crawl in Guiseley. We had one at the Yorkshire Rose where an OAP told us that his Jack Russell terrier is pregnant. A tart in the bar referred to the landlord as "you big fat twat". Yes, a nice, tasteful atmosphere prevailed. We made our way to the incredibly dull Regent and finally, at 2:45pm, onto the Station Hotel.

Snow and ice underfoot was something of a hazard to begin with but the more we drank the more confident we became negotiating the glassy footpaths like John Currie and Robin Cousins.{I suspect both these gents are close friends of Jeremy Thorpe, MP}.

Tonight: to Burley~in~Wharfedale with Dave, Sue & Pete to see Lynn and Dave B. The Bakers both looked as fit as butcher's dogs - especially Lynn who is pink and 'radiating'. We all piled into the Red Lion following a pantomime on ice in the car park there. Boozed solidly until 11 o'clock and then took fish & chips back to Lawn Road . We laughed at the fact that for the purposes of the kitty Dave and I were classed as a 'couple'.

We drank until about 1:30am & then Susie and Pete staggered off to the spare bedroom for a further instalment of the wildest pre~marital experience since Anthony & Cleopatra.

Dave B collapsed onto the sofa and didn't bat an eyelid until after 3 leaving Dave G, Lynn and I singing along to Nat King Cole's greatest hits. Dave B makes a regular habit of slipping into a convenient coma at every available opportunity. He hops off to bed or collapses into a medium sized heap on the carpet. Good old Dave. He thrust a £10 note into my hot, grasping hand when I said I wanted to buy a pair of shoes on Monday. (I shall, of course, let him have it back next week). But isn't it marvellous of him to 'see me right'? A real brother is David Baker, a real brother.

Lynn finally carried her husband off to bed and Dave G and I slept in the lounge (or sitting room depending on how posh you happen to be). It was 3:30am, I think.

-=-

Friday December 29, 1978

New Moon 19:36

Margaret made a cup of milky tea and I was almost sick over Fieldhead Road. Snow and ice. Susan and Peter brought me home at 11:30am. I collapsed into bed.

Mum woke me at 4:30 for a curry. I then laid in a chair and stared glumly into the television set. Do you know I haven't been into a pub for a drink of alcohol for almost a week? Am I perhaps cracking up?

Mummy seems to think I am exceptionally quiet but why should I always be acting like a circus act or member of the Royal Shakespeare Company? I just want solitude and quiet. Peter and Susan are in a similar frame of mind.

Dad took to his bed at 8pm saying he had 'flu. Mum doesn't look much better.

On the hosiery counter until Day of Judgement

Poor Uncle Albert died 9 years ago today at Pudsey. I remember crying like a baby whilst doing my paper round. Isn't death a useless, wasteful end? God should perhaps devise a way whereby at the age of 70 everybody goes instead to work on the hosiery counter at British Home Stores, or take up Involuntary Service until the Day of Judgement. Think how beneficial we all would be to the economy? No, on second thoughts, I'd rather just fester away.

When you think about it he (God) has everything worked out, hasn't he?

-=-

Sunday December 17, 1978

Out of bed at 1:20pm. I'd been brought from my coma several times during the morning to the sound of vacuum cleaners and washing machines belting out. 

Downstairs Mum grinned and said something about Lillie Langtry, but I refused to be drawn on this pointless squabble.

Ate lunch and then went down the lane gathering holly from the hedgerows to bedeck the house in trimmings for Yuletide.

We have had a Christmas card from John in it a note saying he'll be down on Dec 23. I miss him and really look forward to seeing him again. Little JPH will be wonderful. What is this time of the year without children?

Susan and Peter have avoided Mum and they won't be making an appearance. Booze makes Mother extremely cruel and bigoted. She takes it out on Peter because he isn't boisterous and demonstrative like Dave B is prone to be. Most unfair. I refuse to keep silent on the matter, but my so~called "interfering" only proceeds to make Mum all the more abusive. Never shall I be silent and rabbit~like in the face of wrong and injustice,. (My God, I sound like someone with a cause).

Mum and I dined on curried mince. Dad joined us later. Susan called in and collected a bundle of Lynn's washing and took it to Burley. ( Lynn currently has no drying facilities). Peter is full of cold and sneezing and spluttering.

At 8 o'clock we watched "As You Like It" on BBC2. It starred Helen Mirren and Angharad Rees. Yet another delightful production. Helen Mirren is wonderful. I have always been besotted with her ~ she reminds me so much of Sandra Lawson.

The central heating is on the blink and the house is very cold tonight. I took to my bed at 11:45.

Dad surprised us all by suddenly announcing that he could take to reading Kipling. Mum says he's never read a book in his life. I must admit - I have never seen the man buried in any volume.

-=-

Friday December 15, 1978

Otley: market day

Rain. A generally damp atmosphere. Mum woke me to say I had to phone Gus. I did so at 11:30am and an hour later I headed down the lane in heavy rain to the Regent in Gusieley. Gus, Chippy, Neil and Johnny, &c are all there supping ale. I was damp and out of my depth because their conversation was all about their own school days. From here at 2:30 we moved to the Junction in Otley. We were all quite pissed up, and the landlord, resembling something like a rugby prop forward, kept asking us to be quiet. Peter joined us at 3, and because it was market day, we supped and made merry until 4.

Heard a few Jeremy Thorpe jokes ~ quite marvellous. At 4:30, dripping in lager, I returned home. Mother is never happy about me drinking in the daytime and afternoon tea was a bit frosty. Out again at 5:30 to the Regent in Guiseley. Had something of a headache, and no money. Took out an IMF loan from Peter, Chippy and Dave W. They lent me £8 in all, I think. A mini bus collected us at 6 and we went to a pub near Crumpet in Batley. Gus and Frank were hideously pissed and kept dropping their trousers and rolling on the floor. All quite embarrassing, so much so that Pete and I went to a pub next door and returned to the main party after a few sensible drinks. To the disco at about 10:30. Slightly rough. We all danced and freaked out in style. A band came on stage for an hour or so and we were deafened by the noise. I only indulged in a couple of drinks and danced for the remainder of the night. Outside at 2am feeling sober, tired and thirsty. The bus didn't collect us until 2:35 and I didn't get to bed until after 4:0am.

-=-

Saturday December 9, 1978

Sun rises 07:54

Sun sets 15:52

KING HENRY VI YOU SILLY GIT

Joke: "What fucks old age pensioners?" (For the answer see the heading of Dec 16).

My stomach isn't what it should be today. I am dribbling and rumbling all over the place and put it down to the Tetley's bitter in the Shoulder last night.

Did absolutely nothing all day other than listen to music and watching Mummy going about her work. If I was the Holy Father I'd have her beatified. (Richard III's niece, Margaret, Countess of Salisbury was beatified in the 1880s). Mum does work like a bee though.

Original Oak: Headingley

Tonight: phoned Chippy at 7 and he and Frank came at 8. We went to Queensway for Gus and then had a drink in the Crown before moving on to the Original Oak to meet Johnny. We latched on to the vicars and tarts. Frank and I went outside to change into our costumes. He was clad in a black skirt and canary~yellow jacket and I put on a white shirt backwards beneath a black t~shirt so that soon I'm the image of the Archdeacon of Bath &Wells. Frank brought the place to a standstill with his impersonation of a tart, he even used the ladies toilets. The gin and ale swilled everywhere. I persuaded a crowd of people to join me in the singing of rousing hymns including "Christ the Lord is Risen Today, Hallelujah!" Someone complemented me on my ecclesiastical voice. One gorgeous tart said I sound like William Rushton! What a tremendous complement. I didn't know I was so articulate. An articulated lorry yes, but no orator.

We gave a lift to a guy called Smith and carrying a seven pint can I entered the party. As usual everything is shrouded in mist and stale alcohol fumes. I had a romantic interlude with one nameless tart who enquired: "Ooh Father, where did you learn to kiss like that?"

Became deeply involved in a discussion on which part of the UK is the friendliest. I said (of course) that Yorkshiremen are the warmest but my opponent said boys from Devon are far friendlier. I concluded that they all vote Liberal in Devon and are invariably homosexual, at which I was set upon by a rugby player from Paignton.

-=-

Saturday November 4, 1978

Sun rises 06:59 Sun sets 16:29

Up at 9:30 and after breakfast went to Lawn Road with Mum & Dad. Lynn was at the hairdressers and Dave, Dad and I made some structural alterations to the residence whilst Mama got a blazing fire going. Dad and Dave did some work putting the kitchen door into position and I painted everything in sight.

Lynn came in like a Goddess at 12 and immediately dragged Mum off into Burley. They staggered back a couple of hours later quite sozzled. They informed us that they'd met a man called Gordon, suffering from Parkinson's Disease, who would be dropping in on us later with a selection of bottles of his home~brewed cider. A likely story.

Jacq came at 2:30 and we had a good lunch. I'm surprised the ladies managed to cook it. Javq was wearing a new pink creation.

At 4 Mum and Dad left and we sat listening to music. Lynn was pissed and really in her element. At 6:30 we, the four of us, got a bus to Guiseley with every intention of attending John Little's bonfire at Green Bottom School, but on arriving we were told the entry fee was £1.75 per family. Lynn told the bemused man on the desk that we are not actually a family, but that we do all love one another.

We walked through the Bonfire night smoke and smog, and baked potato fumes to the White Swan at Yeadon. Lynn and Dave had come out without any cash and felt guilty about being parasites on their elder brother and benefactor. We had a few drinks and inspected the bonfire there. What has become of Bonfire Night? Am I getting old so that I don't see or observe the things that children delight in any more? I hope not. The days of the one penny (old money) banger are gone forever.

At 10 we went for a bus back to Burley and waiting at the bus stop for an hour. It was like a scene from a Greek tragedy and to be honest it made the whole evening. Lynn carrying on like Sarah Bernhardt. We laughed and joked ridiculously to the extent that the traffic was swerving to avoid us. Elderly ladies were peeping at us from bedroom windows.

A bus came at 11 and we headed back to Burley. Bit of an anti-climax really. Sandwiches, coffee and a 1943 John Mills film isn't exactly what I call a proper Saturday night. I suppose it cannot be a riot every week.

Lynn and Dave went off to bed before John Mills, in his submarine, had the time to sink the Brandenberg, and I fell asleep. Jacq and I 'kipped' on the sitting room floor with our heads pointing towards the dying fire embers. _______.

-=-

Sunday October 29, 1978

23rd Sunday after Trinity

9th Sunday before Christmas

End of Summer Time: put clocks back one hour at 02:00

Sarah and I talked last night. We are in a very similar position. ______________________. We are two of a kind Sarah and I. We do think one hell of a lot about each other. She told me that she didn't think she would ever marry.

Jacq came at 12. We went with Sue and Pete to the Commercial for beer and beef sandwiches, and then moved on to the Half Way House (opposite the Shoulder of Mutton) which is a ghastly modern pub full of adolescents and with a grotesque barmaid.

Back home for 2:30 and we settled in front of the tv. Horribly boring. Jacq sat knitting. __________________.

The Prince of Wales is in Yugoslavia on his first visit to a communist country.

Mum and Dad returned from Whitby at 6. We all had a Chinese take~away. Watched 'Lillie Langtry' again. It's not the greatest historical drama ever made. The woman playing Queen Victoria should be horse whipped.

Took Jacq to her bus at 9:30. To bed at 11:30.

Thursday October 19, 1978

King John died seven hundred and sixty two years ago today, and blimey, Newark Castle, Notts, appears to have been the fortunate spot selected for this event.

Jacq and I had a meeting at the Ostlers.

Margaret and Jim tonight again. A very drunken occasion. For some daft reason Mama was drinking Pernod, and she and Jim were staggering by 11 o'clock. Pete joined us too, and he was worse for wear. A burst of dancing broke out in the dining room, but I declined Mama's frequent invitations to get up off my backside and 'groove it'.

Obviously, after the guests had departed in the small hours Mum was taken ill. Her reaction to the massive quantity of Pernod was to do what Lord Nelson always did when he was aboard HMS Victory. Yes, she threw up.

(I bet you thought I was going to say she found an eye patch and paced up and down the bridge saying "I see no ships. Hic" Alas, no).

-=-

Monday October 16, 1978

Full Moon 07:09 First Day of Tabernacles (Succoth)

There's speculation all day about the conclave of cardinals. The voting, they say, is proving more difficult this time and Rome has been shrouded beneath clouds of black smoke all day. However, the boys in velvet made a decision and at about 7:30 the news was telephoned to me by a frantic Ursula, who could find no photographs, and before the BBC news flash, and the residents of 58, Hawksworth Lane where the first people this side of Leeds to discover that the new Pope is a non~Italian for the first time since 1522. The new pontiff is in fact a Pole. In fact he's the Cardinal Archbishop of Kraków, whose name I cannot attempt to pronounce (Karol Józef Wojtyła). No doubt my Aunt Jadwega is skipping around in her massage parlour showering kisses upon the residents of Mapplerley, Notts. So, it's failure for poor Basil Hume, but amazing that the cardinals have gone for an outsider. Do our purple friends want to keep well in with the Eastern bloc now that Italy is on the verge of going completely red? Dad's immediate reaction was to ask if the new pope is a Bulgarian. On the news Angela Rippon told us that during the Second World War Pope John Paul II worked in a Nazi~occupied umbrella factory. (Unless you know about Georgei Markov you'll be in the dark about this little joke).

Watched a violent film starring Burt Reynolds. Mum says she objects to paying the tv licence to watch such rubbish, but this Mary Whitehouse attitude is quite wrong. I see nothing wrong with a spot of violence. Bed at 12:05 am.

-=-

Wednesday October 11, 1978

Day of Atonement {Yom Kippur}

I took a half day today. And yes it's a free and illicit one because our beloved leader is in a pub somewhere on the banks of Lake Windermere.

A wonderful, hot afternoon. I headed into the garden with my volume 'Hitler' tucked under my arm. For the biggest part of the afternoon I read and then launched an assault on the record player.

Today is Yom Kippur. Unsure, but believe it's the national kipper packers' holiday and fishmongers everywhere are happily heading to the seaside.

Tonight I hit the pillow at 12 o'clock but was awakened at 2 by the sound of Mum and Dad fighting (verbally). I lay listening to this buffoonery for almost an hour. Eventually, Dad grabbed a sleeping bag and headed for the bathroom and dropped down on the carpet. Mum followed him begging him to quit this ridiculous vigil. She came to my room and asked me to do something. What can you say to a grown man clinging with dear life to the bath taps? Sue was disturbed too. This farce dragged on half the night. Fools.

-=-

Monday June 12, 1978

The bloody Pope has refused to give Mrs Troubridge a dispensation to marry Prince Michael in church and so the couple will now have to wed abroad in a civil ceremony. This is indeed a nasty blow for Anglo-Roman relations. At a time when two thirds of the world is heathen I find it annoying to say the least that the few remaining Christians should squabble over denominational rules and regulations.

His Holiness objects to Prince Michael's statement that his children will be brought up as Anglicans. Silly old sod.

The Royal wedding is planned for June 30 and will take place in Vienna. God only knows when a member of the Royal Family last wed in a civil ceremony ~ if ever. The Queen will be white haired and crumpled by Christmas.

On the subject of strained relations I feel I ought to mention Mummy and Daddy. They haven't spoken today either, and both are being silly, even though Dad is more silly than Mum. What is the point of blaming Mum for the car accident? I just can't see it. He was willing to hand over his car keys and has no argument whatsoever. Mum is now saying she didn't collide with a dry stone wall at all, and that somebody else ran into her on the makeshift car park. This is just taking it too far.

Dave B is coming tomorrow to carry out repair work and before long the damage will be untraceable ... I hope.

-=-

Sunday June 11, 1978

3rd Sunday after Trinity

Feast of Weeks (Shebuoth)

I didn't get to bed until 8:30 this morning, but by noon Jacq and I had set out on a walk to Baildon Moor, uprooting a few oak saplings on the way for the garden. We were out in the countryside until after 5 and a very pleasant, happy time was had.

At home Mum was very quiet. Dad was refusing to talk to her because of the car incident. How pathetic! If he hadn't have been so pissed the calamity would have been avoided. David B says the damage will cost £20 to put right. Never mind.

-=-

Saturday June 10, 1978

Sun rises 04:44 Sun sets 21:16

Birthday of Prince Philip, Duke of Edinburgh

At 3:30pm I met Jacq in Guiseley and we tracked down John and Maria at Ridgeway. Maria's parents are visiting Hugh in Canada. Jimmy Mac took some photos of me and Jacq and that was the only bit of excitement other than watching JPH attack an ice lolly. Maria was looking tanned but I was told it's painted on. She'd forgotten to do one of her legs. From 4 until after 6 we sat with John, Maria and Pamela Horrocks (nee Moffat). I was bored but the ladies didn't notice my yawns through the blanket of smog and coal dust thrown out by their endless 'assembly line' of cigarettes. Jacq must have had 10.

By 6pm my polluted lungs could take no more and I dragged Jacq back to Pine Tops for sandwiches. At 8pm Jim and Margaret came and after watching 'The Good Life' on the BBC we went with them and Mama and Papa to a barbecue on Carlton Lane (at Penny's Farm?). Alcohol flowed like pig swill. Our party managed to consume most of it. Sue, Pete, Gus and Chippy were there. The food was mediocre but the company was interesting with such old cronies as John Little, Joan Taylor (Kevin's mother), &c. In fact, all the old Silverdale mob appeared. Jacq, Sue, Pete and I were among the last to leave and Mum and Dad tottered out (both really legless) shortly before us. We were in high spirits. We got home safely enough ( I don't know how) and we immediately plugged in the headphones, selected a suitable record and poured out of the lager.

Mum was locked upstairs in the WC for two or three hours (Oh dear) and so Jacq was forced, much against her will, to urinate in our well stocked herbaceous border. How embarrassing. I had to do the same, but on opening the kitchen door I espied the car abandoned on the drive and I was temporarily distracted from the call of nature. It was the car. It had a huge hole in the right hand wing and a considerable amount of paint was missing. Oh no! But who drove home?

It was almost dawn when Mum alighted from her watery throne and she admits the culprit is she, although she cannot recall striking anything. Obviously, it was a dry stone wall. Dad, who had been too pissed, had handed her the car keys.

Mum was soon in floods of tears. Jacq always sees her in this sorry condition.

-=-

Monday May 22, 1978

Full Moon 17:14

Overcast sort of day. I phoned Christine after lunch to say I stood outside her house at some ridiculous hour on Saturday morning in a feeble attempt to attract her attention. We laughed a good deal. Her car is having its MOT this week and so we are not having our weekly orgy. She was out with Carl or Karl on Saturday which confirms Jacq's report of seeing a man in her car on the night in question.

I also rang Michelle at Smith's and she broke the news to me that the bill for the holiday is in the post. More money to pay out.

Mum had her usual weekly 'go' at me over dinner. It was an attack on my financial, moral and romantic condition. She usually sticks to just one subject for each argument but today's was a multi combined assault resembling a scene from the Russian Revolution. She made several nasty cracks that I won't forget in a hurry. I am sure that at times she is unstable.

Passed the evening in front of the tv. News: a couple of Belgian taxidermists have been shot in Zaire and everyone seems to be in uproar about it. I fail to be shocked, horrified, surprised or remotely interested about what goes on in these 'Up the Jungle' Banana republics. Who cares whether Mr Mobutu's government is stable or not? Perhaps Mrs Mobutu, or maybe even his elderly mother, but certainly nobody else.

Her Majesty the Queen is in West Germany on her second state visit to that land. I was reading somewhere that in a recent opinion poll 85 per cent of voters said that would-be kaiser Prince Louis Ferdinand of Prussia would be the best man to be president of the republic ~ and he wasn't even on the list of candidates suggested in the poll!

-=-

Wednesday May 17, 1978

Got home from work to find the lounge devastated in readiness for the redecoration. Dad was in the garden and Mum was moping in the dining room and didn't say more than a handful of words all evening. I sat putting photographs into a new album until 11pm and then retired to bed. Such a boring night. If things continue like this tomorrow I may have to resort to taking Bianca Jagger out for a drink or two.

'Royal Flash isn't a very good book at all. Just not my cup of tea ~ third rate and ridiculous.How can one be expected to take seriously a tale about Otto von Bismarck rolling about in bed with a French tart?

This pen is just about going to run out of ink by the time I finish writing this. It didn't ...


-=-

Thursday April 13, 1978

Deep, crisp, pathetic snow. Today I felt particularly violent. At lunchtime I trudged through the driving snow to Boots to collect an enlargement of a photograph of Mother and JPH. I think I saw the Abominable Snowman coming out of WH Smiths but I may have been mistaken.

Coming up a white Hawksworth Lane this evening I met Dad clad in his uniform carrying out his constabulary duties. He bowled me over by announcing that he and Mum have decided NOT now to buy Edith and Ernest's house after all. I told him he must have gone raving mad. The whole business is so typical of my parents. Everything is settled and then they go and throw a bomb into the saloon, or spanner in the works, or more apt ~ a turd in the swimming pool.



The tea, evening meal, or dinner, or whatever it's called was miserable. Mum and Dad, and even Lynn were justifying staying at Pine Tops, and I said not one word. Mum accused me of being a misery, but my opinion is once you set on a quest - an adventure - you should complete it. Blimey, Captain Cook didn't get half way to the North Pole and then suddenly decide to pack in, did he? Where would we be now if Mr Columbus had decided to be a bricklayer instead of discovering places? What my parents lack is a sense of adventure and I'm saddened. I have taken such a liking to 54, Hawksworth Lane.

I went and had a bath at 7:30. My nose is blocked. Bloody Carol Johnson is breathing her germs all over the place at the office. I must be 'run down' of late because I'm forever snuffling like a geriatric.

The Nasons and Edith and Ernest came at about 8 for the Thursday piss-up. I remained silent in the chair observing the different characters. I dislike _____ intensely.

The collapse of the house deal was not discussed other than when Mum told Ern I was the most disappointed member of the family. At 10:10 the Prince of Wales narrated the first of a new tv series on different cultures. The programme was quite good, and HRH made us roar with laughter when he said 'men are different to women'. I retired at 11:30 telling Mama I'm not going to work tomorrow.

-=-

Monday April 10, 1978

SNOW! Yes, bad weather maybe, but it didn't wipe the smile off my face, and do you want to know for why? Well, it's very simple. _____________. However, this pearly, sexually arousing grin of mine died on my poor lips when, at the YP, I managed to phone the Yorkshire Bank. They, the filthy bankers, have refused to give me a loan, and no reason is to be given. No doubt it's Barclaycard who have tipped them off about my eccentric monthly payment history. It seems I am to be forever branded a debtor. Indeed, the very mention of my name in financial circles immediately wipes billions of shares off the Stock Exchange. I'm not going to let it worry me, anyway.



The reception I had at home was nothing short of violent. Mummy gave me the usual lecture. At one time she likened me to ______. Tempers were frayed beyond all comfort. Mummy took on the character of several ogres all rolled into one. Adolf Hitler and Mussolini together would have quaked and dissolved in a mess of urine on the floor had they had to endure Mama's tongue lashing. Oh, it was foul. And all because I have been refused a bank loan!

I have, in retrospect, decided that Mum's Wilson pride must have taken a severe kicking by this latest embarrassment. The Rhodes family care little about whether bank managers bestow money on them or not, but to upset a Wilson so is like smashing an eighteen ton weight on a sensitive area of a male's anatomy. Have I made myself quite clear?

The Princess Margaret nonsense has quietened down slightly. The whole brouhaha has been monstrous.

-=-

Tuesday April 4, 1978

Out at lunchtime to Parker's (wine bar) with Jacq and Trixie. The place was quite empty, but we had a good few drinks and a spot of something to eat. Trixie goes off to Suffolk tomorrow house hunting and Jacq won't be seeing her until we go to Gina's wedding in 3 weeks.




Nothing happened tonight. Jacq went to Trixie's hotel at Garforth for dinner and fond farewells and I did nothing but watch TV.

My Uncle Peter was 49 today. Mum gave me a (birthday) card saying 'Happy Birthday Slob' and £3. She presented me with this tonight because on no account will she be out of bed before my departure to the labour camp at dawn.

-=-

Monday April 3, 1978

YP a complete misery and I took a half day. Mum was in a nasty mood all afternoon.

When Jacq and her Mum came at 7:30 it all went incredibly well. Everyone took to Trixie and we all knocked back wine and ales and discussed accents, told jokes and laughed. They both howled with laughter at Lynn, who can tell an amusing tale when called upon to do so. The "Our Michael" bit is bloody funny.

Trixie was wearing the Sate diamonds and got on very well with the family. She is a comedienne especially with her mock Yorkshire dialect mock up.



Jacq smoked six or seven cigarettes all evening. They left at something in the region of 10pm, and then Pete N and I sat up untilsomething in the region of 2am discussing the house with Mummy. He expounded the theory that I could earn £70 a week at Armitage-Shanks simply labouring.

-=-

Tuesday March 21, 1978

Royal Hotel, Bowness

Mama and Papa returned from the Cumbrian hills. They stayed at Bowness last night at the Royal Hotel, where Queen Adelaide, wife of William IV, once frequented. They are chucking money around like water these days. I am sure it's all for the best. Why stay enclosed in the same miserable four walls when the whole wide world is beckoning? Go on, Ma and Pa ~ go out and let them have it. (If all this is getting just a little too much for you just flick over a couple of pages until I'm back to normal again). Well, what do I have to say for myself today other than discuss the adventures of Mama and Papa? To be frank, nothing at all. I could say that it is the Tuesday before Easter and that I was born on the Tuesday before Easter 23 years ago. Here I am in my 24th year and I'm still a novice at everything with no money and even less ambition. I'm no further now in securing a place in society as I was ten bloody years ago. However, that is me. You've got me and I am afraid that you are all, each and every one of you,  going to have to make the best of me.

-=-