Monday March 7, 1977

Went to Rawdon to see revolting Hough about my teeth, but he had no knowledge of my appointment. Stupid eohippus. Not wishing to waste my journey I went to see Marita, who was sat in front of the TV. She startled me by saying she was going to dancing lessons tonight and rocked me to my very foundations even more by saying MM is virtually a qualified dancing teacher. Latin American and all that!  Blimey, he's kept that quiet.

A typical day in French Revolution Paris.

Returned to Guiseley by 6 and passed a thoroughly ordinary evening at home. Well, not quite as ordinary as I would have liked it to be. Mum, Dad and Lynn became somewhat aggravated - heated - call it what you will, when I announced I was intending visiting Mr 'Tammy Wynette' Osborne, manager of the Yorkshire Bank, to obtain a loan. I was immediately declared to be on the path to ruination. Mum seemed to be beside herself with passion invoking the name of Uncle ______ as an example of how I might end up, They were successful in talking me out of seeking a bank loan for the time being, but for a while the scene was somewhat reminiscent of a typical day in French Revolution Paris.

Saw Clint Eastwood in 'A Few Dollars More' and had a hot bath at bewitching hour. Read until 1.30.



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Friday February 25, 1977

We had a good evening out. Tony and Martyn came up to Pine Tops at 9 o'clock. Mum and I were listening to 'Raphsody on a Theme by Paganini' by Serge Rachmaninov, and Tony shouted 'Oh great, it's Barry White'. This amused Mum.

Il Trovatore

We went to the Ukrainian Club in Bradford. I'm seriously thinking about adopting Ukrainian nationality. If the drinks prices over there compare with those in the clubs here I'm going on the next flight. We all had doubles, including Michelle and Keith,  and the price of the round came to £1. We departed quite drunk at 11 for Oakwood Hall, where only last week we vowed to miss for a couple of weeks. We must be addicted to the revolting place. We decide that nothing is to be lost in going on to Il Trovatore, and so we leave at 11.30 passing Chris, Peter M, and Laura's .boyfriend, Dave Paterson. At Il Trovatore Tony and Martyn make a dive for Naomi and Miss Moorhouse and I stand about like a spare part until 2am. I did approach a familiar looking lady from the Wikis era and received an immediate snub. Piss off the lot of you.

Raphsody on a Theme by Paganini by Rachmaninov

Sunday September 26, 1976

15th after Trinity. Don't see the light of day until 12 o'clock. Have only a slight headache from Eileen's gin, but otherwise all is well.

Dad decorates his bedroom and I do absolutely nothing amidst the busy scurrying of Mum, Lynn and Susan, who are like ants. Lynne sits crocheting a pram cover or something for a couple of hours, until I persuade her to walk up to the village [Hawksworth] with me. Warm, brilliant sun. Energetic stroll and then home for orange juice and a session with the photo albums.

Lynne goes off at 6.30 - 7 o'clock. Will go to Yeadon Airport on Wednesday to see her off to Espana for a couple of weeks or so. A great and perfect woman she is.

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Tuesday August 31, 1976

Mum and Dad had a terrible row this evening. He wants to go out for a drink but she is still feeling too ill [with her back]. So he goes off on his own leaving Mum crying, and Lynn [for some reason] virtually hysterical. Is it a full moon tonight, or something? If so it will answer the question about Daddy and his sanity. I think I'll change my name to Wilson. And that's not after, or in honour of, Sir Harold either.

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Sunday August 29, 1976

11th after Trinity. CB stayed the night at Pine Tops and we entertained her to luncheon. Mum remained in bed throughout and I received some icy looks from her on the few occasions I ventured into her [bed]room to see her. I don't think she approves of me entertaining young ladies when Lynne is away. Am I married? Am I a bachelor?

Carole was at the Stoney Lea last night with her new found friend, Naomi [Downing]. CB had a bit of a chat with her, and so did Tony. I think she fully expects to get back with me one day.

Straight after lunch we drop CB off in Guiseley and Dad and I go back to Silverdale Dr to do some decorating for John & Maria. Stay until 7.30 and do the hall and staircase a green colour.

At home I fall into a coma at about 10.30 and miss the end of a thrilling episode of 'The Avengers'. Stagger up to bed and into a deep sleep.

Saturday June 19, 1976

Mum & Dad's 22nd wedding anniversary. The occasion was somewhat marred by the fact that poor Dad was late home because of the National Front demo in Bradford this afternoon. He gets in at 8 o'clock and they both go out for a quiet drink. Lynn, Sue and I bought them a silver plated tea pot, milk jug and sugar bowl, &c.

Tony and Carol J come in at 9 o'clock and he tells Mum it was I who was violently sick on Thursday night. We all laugh at th cover-up and then we go up to the Cow & Calf pub for a drink, with Lynne. A nice evening, and we sat in the floodlit gardens at Oakwood Hall and devoured pizza. They (the pizzas) are much nicer than the Damn Yankee creations & even better than the supposed brilliant objects served at the Flying Pizza. Peter and Anne arrive at Oakwood at midnight or so but we don't see much of them. Lynne and I dance quite a bit ___________________.

Home at 1.30 or thereabouts to find some sort of wedding anniversary party going on. This orgy of hysterics falls though at 2am and Lynne and I have the lounge to ourselves until the unearthly hour of 4am. Please understand one thing. Lynne and I are not serious. After the traumatic events of the last couple of months I am in no mood for a lengthy, strenuous affair.

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Wednesday June 9, 1976

A beautiful hot day. Leave work at 12 and come home for lunch with Mum and Dad. After a visit to Guiseley library I scale the lane and collapse in a deck-chair for a couple of hours with 'Princess Margaret and her family' - a book written in 1974. Quite a laugh really.

Three months today I may well be Uncle Michael. Unbelievable, isn't it? John can't believe it; Maria thinks it's all a dream and Dad dreads the grandfather image that will attach itself to him on John Junior's birth.

Saturday May 22, 1976

Mum gets me up at 9.30 and they're away on holiday to the Isle of Skye at 10.30.

I hang about at home until 3pm when I ring Denise and arrange to meet her in Bradford at 5.30 after I've done some shopping.

Cook myself a piece of steak at lunchtime and by 3.30 I'm in Bradford succumbing to the charms of a devious shop assistant who forces me into purchasing two T-shirts - £10!!

Meet Denise at 5.30 and travel to Bramhope where we have fish fingers and cannon ball peas for tea. Peter M comes in at 7.30 and catches a mouse scurrying across the kitchen floor. The poor thing collapsed and died in his hands five minutes later - must have been the shock of seeing Peter M close up. P was heartbroken.

To the Hare at 8.30. Everyone comes: John, Maria, Sarah, Peter, Carol, Marilyn, Cousin Jackie, her boyfriend Don, Tony, Denise, Chris, Pete M, CB, CD, Keith, Carol Smith, Carole, Linda S, Ann from the USA with her sister Carol, Christine 'Snow' White, Eileen, Michael, Roger Boughton, Naomi and her Welsh cousin Helen, &c, and many more.

Fantastic party. Jackie disappeared early with a stomach disorder, but otherwise all was fine. At 4.30am Keith drove me and Marilyn to Carol J's flat in Horsforth where we stayed until 8.

Sarah was a good laugh and her boyfriend Peter is quite a decent chap really. John thinks he resembles David Hamilton which may be the reason why I think I've seen him somewhere before.

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Monday January 26, 1976

Mum wasn't feeling too well on Saturday and the shock of John's announcement last night has just about finished her off altogether. She had a day in bed, but by the time I arrived home she was cheery and discussing engagement presents with Susan.

John and Maria went too see the priest at the RC church in Burley-in-Wharfedale this evening and came home with tales of hilarity about the old devil. They think the 'big day' is to be March 13, but I don't think it's definate yet. (Our great-grandfather John Wilson was born on March 13, 1853 - just thought I'd mention it.)

John asked me to be his 'best man' and I'm on the edge of my seat with the excitement and terror of it all. God only knows where it is all going to end - and I hope that the wedding bells aren't going to give Carole any ideas because she's going to be disappointed if she expects similar treatment. __________.

To think I have always had John 'married off' as it were, in these pages, to Carol Smith, Naomi Downing and of course dear Christine White, but I don't think I've mentioned the 'does this mean wedding bells?' with him and Miss Maria Christine Macdonald.... or have I?

See the Peter Sellers film 'What's New Pussycat' or something. A brilliant film, and as far as I am concerned Peter Sellers can do no wrong.

Carole rang at 7 and we talked for half an hour or so. I don't think we'll be going out until Thursday night and am surprised to hear that she hasn't spoken to Mrs Phillips since the latter told Molly Macdonald that I had short arms and long pockets. No doubt all will be patched up between them in good time.

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Wednesday July 23, 1975

Another queer day. More like April. It's pissing it down and I'll not dwell on the subject any more.

Work was uneventful and Sarah wasn't feeling too well. I'm willing to bet a small fortune on the subject of Sarah attending my party on Saturday. She's been very secretive about the whole business and every time I mention it she quickly changes the subject. Who cares anyway?

Home at 5.30. Mum is having tantrums about everyone and everything again. She didn't improve much either when Lynn put her foot in it and mentioned we might be having a party on Saturday night. I cringed at the mention of it. Women! Give me a family of boys any day.

The weather is horrible and I'm not looking forward to this evening's orgy with Carole at the Hare. She is all very well, but when the Queen is on TV no competition arises. I am rotten, aren't I?

Down to the Hare with John at 8.15. See Gillian and Naomi who are back from Newquay, where they had two hours of sunshine last week. John collects 'George' and Helen comes long of her own free will. Carole arrives at 8.30. She tells me her name is Phillips. Just think, if she'd been a boy and called Mark and joined the Queen's Dragoon Guards I'd now be a friend of royalty. Back to her place, just the two of us, at 10.30 and I stayed until 12.20. Walk home in pouring rain with her Dad's umberella. Don't get too wet, and on my arrival home I devour a bowl of chicken soup with plenty of pepper on.

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Sunday June 22, 1975

4th after Trinity. Hot and fine. Up at about 11 o'clock for a meagre cooked breakfast, and Mum is going on about us going round next door for cocktails or something. Since the Smiths left last week we've had very little to do with the new tenants, although I can't say I haven't noticed the daughter, because I most certainly have. We shall have to watch things in that direction.

No doubt you'll all be wondering about Christine and me. Well, it's difficult really. Until Gary finished with her I was besotted and beside myself with passion for her, but with me having the roving eye that I have I seem to have cooled as of late. Sarah creates a problem because I have always had a spot somewhere inside for her, and that fact that Sarah, Carol, John and I are going out on Saturday doesn't help me at all really. Oh, I'm saying no more about that anyway.

After deciding not to go round to the neighbours after all, John and me go down to the Commercial, where Chris and Christine are waiting for us. We have one drink and then say bye bye to Chris until next weekend. Christine comes back to Pine Tops and we lounge on the lawn until after 'Pick of the Pops' finished at 7. She likes me even more now, and as Gary is fading I'm becoming all the more stronger.

Linda's party tonight: Go with Peter M, Lumsden, Raymond and John. The only girls allowed other than the college girls are Carol and Helen. Get quite pissed on cider and the thing lasts until about 3am but I don't want to write much about it. However, I will say it was better than I thought it would be, and we had a great time.

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Thursday June 19, 1975

Twenty-one years ago today Lawrence Rhodes took it upon himself to take Miss Nora Wilson for his wedded wife. Pudsey Parish Church hasn't been the same since.

On my arrival home from work an anniversary tea awaited me. The Royal Albert tea set was splashed all over the table, along with salmon sandwiches and delicacies of all manner of description. Mum and Dad had spent the day in Otley - shopping - and she's now the proud owner of several new dresses, and the proud bearer of a new 'hair do'.

They go out for a meal later on, and haven't returned by the time I hit the sack. Living it up no doubt. Only four more years to go until the Silver Wedding. Do I forsee a grand occasion in Westminster Abbey?

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Sunday June 15, 1975

3rd after Trinity. Awoke at 11.30 and feel quite refreshed and cheery for the first time in two days. On the coach last night I calculated that in the space of 24 hours I'd only had two hours sleep. However, I could never miss the Trooping of the Colour, and any loss of sleep is well worth it.

Oh, by the way. In Carnaby Street yesterday it cost me £1 for John and I to have our photograph taken by a shady little character. We left him with our names and adress, handed over the money, and watched him disappear into the crowd laughing his head off. Whether we'll ever see our photos is a debatable point, but one thing's for sure, these Londoners can spot tourists and smell the money at a distance of 600 yards. You should have seen the bee-line he made for us through the crowd!

Heard from poor Mum this morning that she bumped the Toyota yesterday afternoon. Evidently, she had a collision with the Vicar of Burley's car, and the paint's been scratched down one side. She was terribly upset yesterday, and to bring her round they, that is Dad, Lynn, Dave, Sue and Peter, took her out to Burley House for a meal. She says Dad took it beautifully.

To reflect back to yesterday again, I think I'd better say something about why I felt so rotten. Admittedly I'd had a boozy do at Wikis, and only two hours sleep, but when I awoke at 5am the pillow case was covered in blood from my nose, and since then I've had 'pins and needles' down one side of my face. The sort of feeling you get after an injection at the dentist. I'm going to see a doctor tomorrow evening. It's quite worrying really.

Christine rang at 2pm and we're going out tonight. She went to the Cow and Calf last night with Christine D and Carol S - I can imagine the time they must have had! What a combination.

Go to the Hare with John at 8.30. No ale or lager at all due to the dispute, so I start on tomato juices. Christine is in a foul mood and I get depressed when she mopes uselessly over Gary. We move on to the Yorkshire Rose, that is Christine, Carol, 'George', John and I. Outnumbered by women! A remarkable phenomenon indeed. After one drink (half a lager) at the Yorkshire Rose, we move on to the Station on Henshaw Lane. A miserable night really.

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Saturday May 31, 1975

John and I go into Otley in afternoon for a lark around, but with the main intention of finding a decent tool shop for my younger brother and eventual heir. I say heir because the title will of course go to him and his children after I'm gone, because unless CB marries me, I will not produce any offspring. Christine Braithwaite is the only person whom I'd consider making my duchess.

Home at 5.30 to find Mum and Dad looking sun-tanned after a week in Scotland laden with relics and souvenirs of Balmoral and Inveraray. They tell us the tale and explain how they managed to motor 1300 miles in seven days. Glad to see them home safely.

To the Fleece with Dave, Lynn and John. I tore a hole in my trousers climbing into Mr Baker's sports car, but otherwise received no other injuries, well other than verbal ones that is. At the off-licence in Guiseley we were asked our age! Twenty years old, and people still think I'm 15.

All the mob gather in the Fleece and we move on to Laura's at 9.30. A drunken evening follows. Laura's parents are nice folk. Much nicer than I ever imagined. Her eighty-six year-old granny was a right case too. Chris, Pete M, John, Raymond and his mate, and me walked back down Town Street at 2am and we left chaos and devastation in our path. John fell off the causeway and sprained his ankle, and was then bitten by Dandy, the Ratcliffe hound, on our arrival at 21, Victoria Drive. Poor Pete had never been drunk before. And WAS he drunk!

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Tthursday January 2, 1975

Have a rotten nights sleep and get up feeling a bit bog-eyed at 20 to 8.
Busy day at the YP with the New Years Honours List. Charlie Chaplin, PG Wodehouse and Gary Sobers are new knights, and the revolting deaf MP Jack Ashley is a CH. Chaplin is 85, and Wodehouse is 93. Mr Wodehouse may be a genius of the pen, but his politics aren't really what they should be. He made certain hideous broadcasts from Berlin in 1941 which upset everyone a good deal. As for Sir Charlie Chaplin, I'm not a fan of his at all. I do smile occasionally at his silent movies, but that hardly makes him 'knight worthy'.

Mum is 40 today, but like Jack Benny she says she's not going to get any older than 39. She does right too. Dad is 41 today. We bought Mum a series of black underwear, and Dad another new shirt. John and I have tea alone whilst Mum and Dad discuss buying a new car with one of Daddy's PC friends. Lynn and Dave are in Scarborough for the day. Lynn may be in love for the first time. (I think it's the first time anyway, but I wouldn't know about that).

Sit looking at the bedraggled Christmas tree and make up my mind to remove it from the lounge tomorrow - a sad occasion indeed.

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Monday October 14, 1974

Queen Jane Seymour died 1537. James II, born 1633. Busy day at the YP. The papers are full of poor Edward Heath, who looks like he's about to have his cards thrust upon him. The Tories are a very ruthless mob when it comes to being defeated. Take poor Sir Alec Douglas-Home for example. He got the chop for losing one general election. So, now Heath's lost TWO elections, and I cannot see the Monday Club allowing their hapless leader to continue in his miserable existence.

MUM PASSED HER DRIVING TEST!! Really, I should have gone with this at the top of the page. but I forgot all about it. She rang me at work whilst I was out of the office, and passed on the joyous information to Eileen. We are all thrilled at the thought of Mum behind the steering wheel, and soon I can forsee us having four drivers in the family. Don't ring Lynne tonight, though I will do before my half-day on Wednesday in order to arrange a lunch time booze-up, or something equally entertaining.

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Wednesday August 14, 1974

Rains all day. Bloody awful weather conditions for August. YP not outstandingly interesting & come home in rain, minus raincoat, at 5. Uncle Harry is here for tea - most pleasant, and I never tire of my favourite uncle's visits. What a character he truly is! Lynn and Sue are at Denny's until tomorrow and so Mum is left with Uncle H, John and I. Papa is also not with us due to work. See TV all evening including an interesting programme about the life of the late Earl of Suffolk & Berkshire, who was killed defusing a bomb in the Second World War. Uncle H was in stitches at the antics of this aristocratic war hero.

By the way, Denny rang me at 11am and asked whether I'd like to go camping on Saturday night. I say yes. Michael or Marita will provide transport and Denny will supply the tent. I think it's a good idea but Mama thinks otherwise - she's never been an advocate of outdoor sleeping, she has obvious objections.

At 10 Mum goes with Uncle H to collect Dad from work. John and I sit listening to Radio Luxembourg and discussing the American charts. Mum and Dad come from the pub at nearly 11 with fish and chips, but minus Uncle H who decided to make his way straight back to Wakefield.

Come to bed at 11.30 with a cup of cocoa and am in two minds whether or not to take a bath. Decide in the negative. An early night will do me goog for once.

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Sunday August 11, 1974

Up at 1. Cramp quite gone. Nice lunch. Mum spends the afternoon either sitting in the garden or lying on her bed - one of her Sunday afternoon privileges. Denny, Lynn and I watch the tv - a film - then "Department S" and then "Alias Smith and Jones". Salad for tea at 6. Denny goes on the 7 o'clock 55. Pleasant day really. Sit on my bed counting my money and see that I have £3.15 to last me until Thursday. I need £2 for bus fares and £4.50 for Barclaycard and thus discover that I am £3 or thereabouts in debt. Ah well, worst things happen at sea. I shall have to employ an accountant to deal with my monetary affairs. John goes out with Pete M at 8.30 and Lynn, Mum and I sit around eating chocolates, drinking sherry, and watching 'High Society' starring Bing Crosby and Princess Grace of Monaco. Chris comes in with John for a coffee at 10.30. I go to bed at about 11.30. Lynn and Sue sit on my bed talking about holidays until nearly 1. Yet another late night! When will they ever end?



"Rock Your Baby" George Macrae.

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Wednesday July 24, 1974

John is becoming quite serious over Carol, the American girl. She goes home next Wednesday. Chris says John is insane pursuing this romance when it has no other option but but to end in a weeks time. How positively unromantic. What can be more heavenly than a few days of blissful love before an eternal separation? Anyway, the Atlantic isn't very wide these days. John can almost afford to spend all his weekends over there. Good luck to them anyway.

Mum and Dad go to the Commercial. I sit with a pernod and orange in front of the tv - see the Queen at the Royal Horse Show. George V Cup and Elizabeth II Cup. The Yanks had the upper hand again. Her Majesty wasn't very cheerful.

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Tuesday July 23, 1974

Bloody awful day. Sleep in until nearly 10am. Ring Kathleen and take a half-day today and go in at 2. Sick of the YP.

Home at 6. Mum and Dad criticise the painting. John rings everyone to to select a suitable pub for tonight's drinking excursion. We go down to the Hare and Hounds where Carol, Linda and Christine later join us - not forgetting Chris. Quite a good evening. We all pull Peter Mather to pieces and decide, in his absence, that it was about time he was either a) married, or b) living in sin with some sexy woman. All pile in the Ratcliffe bus at 10.45 and home within minutes.

See 'The Royal Show' etc, and knock back a few pernods. Bed after 12.

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