Friday June 13, 1975

A change in thw weather which can only be expected when I take a day off work. Up at 9am and have a coffee and play the stereo at full volume for about an hour. No one else in the house to complain so I might as well make the most of it.

I meet Christine outside the Hare and Hounds at 11.30 and after consuming one drink in that saintly shrine, we move on to Otley where the pubs are open all day because of the market (as I've already explained see 10/6/75). In Otley until 4. I'm on special strength lager and after four hours of the stuff I quite naturally feel sloshed. Christine is drinking vodka and lime, then port, &c, so she doesn't get quite as pissed as the author (i.e. the author of this journal). She helps me to a bus and we head for home - Christine brandishing half a pound of minced beef. Why? I do not know. I'm almost sick on the bus, but that more than liberal dash of self-control prevents me from doing so. At home Mum cooks us a beautiful meal and keeps giving me strange 'have you been drinking?' type of looks. After tea, 6 o'clockish, we go to CB's where her Dad has just got back from hospital. She puts on my favourite dress (not MY favourite, you understand. I mean the dress of HERS which I think suits her the most). To the Hare and Hounds, the Black Bull (again) and Wikis. All nicely intoxicated but hating the idea of getting up at 5 o'clock to go to London. Bed at 3am with the prospect of two hours sleep ahead of me.

-=-

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!

-=-

Sunday May 18, 1975

Whit Sunday. Another scorcher. Up at 12 and do nothing before luch, which is always the case on Sundays. After roast beef and Yorkshire Pudding I nip down Tranmere to see Gillian - the femme fatale of Guiseley. Mrs Upton is a _______.Not forgetting the Jodpurs (can't spell this) and car wash leather. Gillian yells the usual abuse at her mother before coming back to Pine Tops to recline in a deckchair on the lawn with ice-cream and Mum, Dad and Lynn and eventually Dave. A really hot afternoon and would have been tranquil but for the fact that JR was screaming her ruddy, little head off two doors away. And when I say screaming, I really mean SCREAMING.

Gillian goes at 5 after laughing with Lynn about shorthand.

Dave comes at 5.30 and we have a laugh by having tea in the car. Why did we do that you are all asking? Well, the radio batteries are flat and the car radio is the only thing working at the moment, and so it came to pass that crumpets and ham sandwiches were had in the front seat of Papa's Cortina.

Lynn and Dave join us at the Hare, and we move on to the Black Bull, in Otley where I partake in a few too many Skol Special Strengths. Ray and his mate John joined us and Sunday night proved riotous for a change.

-==-

Saturday March 29, 1975

A drunken day to end all drunken days. John, Chris and I chauffeured by Mr Ratcliffe go to the Black Bull in Otley where I consume 5 pints of Carlsberg Special Brew in the space of 2 hours and proceed to look horribly ill in the back of the Ratlciffe __. Very nearly spewed up, but my genius for self-control prevented me from doing so. They bomb off in the direction of Harrogate with me spread-eagled in the rear of the automobile and on arrival in the township they search the area for a gentleman's bog. I am thrust therein, but nothing happens. No vomit. No ill effects at all. They marvel at my quick recovery. I see 'What's Up Doc?' advertised over a cinema, but they refuse to accompany me in. After a heated argument lasting half an hour I concede defeat and go home with them.

Back out at 8 with a hangover. See Christine and Gary, and then Dave L arrives with a college mate, Rich. Peter M, Chris and John make up the party, and we go to the Hare, the Westbourne, Bowling Green, Black Bull and back to the Hare again. Pubs are open until 11.30 and we have a brilliant night. I entertain myself with a Rag mag and Dave nearly crashed the car laughing at the wheel. John bumped into Peter Nason and a pal in the Hare and brings them home for a coffee with all the others.

-==-

Sunday March 23, 1975

Palm Sunday. Wake up to a beautiful morning and a beautiful hangover. Palm Sunday too.

The beauty of the weather draws John and I out to the car. We go in the direction of Otley Chevin. Stopping at the Chevin Inn for a quick one we encounter Andy Graham's papa. He buys us a pint each before departing for his lunch. We then go down to the Station in Yeadon - a bloody awful place - where I indulge in one half pint. Back for lunch.

Mum had her hair flashed yesterday and looks like a different person now. She no longer tries to antagonise me. I wonder why?

Dave Baker makes his traditional visit for Sunday tea. Lynn admitted to me tonight that this weekend is the first time they've quarrelled about anything. Nothing serious though.

John and I go with Naomi to the Hare and none of the regulars are in. We're bored stiff and leave at 10 o'clock. He and Naomi go on to Wikis. Aaarrghh! Yes, Wikis on a Sunday! Whatever next? I see tv until 12.15. Tired out, stagger to bed.


-==-

Saturday March 1, 1975

St David's Day. Weird goings on indeed today. The bloody fog is still here, and so I refuse to venture out of doors until the call of the pub summons me in the evening.

Down to the Hare & Hounds where I discover that a party is being thrown in Otley by one of Linda Smith's colleagues. At first the idea doesn't seem too bad, but hang on a minute. Chris brings Denny down with him. She's no longer a smoker, and discos are no longer a thrill and a joy to her. Ade is ruining her life but she refuses to realise it. The poor girl will be engaged and married off by the summer of '76 - you mark my words. Linda Smith says that Christine Dibb and Helen Lockyer (Jane's sister) can't come to the party, but I protest and also refuse to go. The three of us remain at the Hare. June Dixon, a real snobby weirdo, and her pal, Brenda take the three of us to the Fox - the next pub down from the Hare. We stay until 10.45 and go after being insulted by one of the barmaids. Back to Helen's in Menston. Drink Martini, beer and whisky in front of the TV until it closes down and then go through a book containing the works of Salvador Dali. June and Brenda leave at 12 - in something of a hurry after I said something disagreeable, and the three of us remained until 3.30. Finished off with toast and Bovril then Jane drove us home.

-==-

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.

-==-

Saturday February 15, 1975

Go with John to Otley and mess around for an hour. Come home with 'The Laughing Policeman' a really revolting record, and a box of chocolates for Motherdear. A bright sunny day, but chilly and cold.

Hear on the radio that PG Wodehouse is no longer with us. Knighted only a month ago. His death brings a 70 year career as a writer to a close. 'Lord Emsworth and Others' is the only thing I've read of his.

Chris Denby and Teale give me a lift to the Highlander in Leeds at 8. Neither of them have past a driving test, and there we were in a large Bedford van rocketing through Leeds. Meet Marian at 8.30. Really a nice girl. Not particularly good looking, but her eyes are beautifully hypnotic. Gorgeous hair too.
Back to Gillian Barker's near the university for the party. Drink gallons but feel no adverse effects. Marian is such an intellectual conversationalist. You feel as if you should always be on your guard when talking to her. She rivets the hypnotised victim to the spot and keeps throwing up morsels of geniously planned chatter. Quite unlike any other girl I've taken out.

Have no idea what time the party falls through, but Marian and I bed down on the floor in the largest room, with no warmth other than a beautiful scarfe which we share.


Laughing Policeman by Charles Jolly/Penrose

Saturday October 12, 1974

Lynn wakes me at 7 and I feel absolutely shocking. Lay on the dining room floor - eyes tightly closed - wishing that last night had never happened.

Go to the YP. Sarah says I look shocking. I blame myself entirely. Leave at 12. Home by half past. Have lunch which revives me slightly, then lay on the bed for a few minutes to recouperate.

John suggests we go to Otley and (strangely) I agree. I say strangely, because walking around the market towns of West Yorkshire on a Saturday afternoon cannot be the best hang-over cure. We go, but find nothing worth buying in the town's only boutique. Decide to move on to Bradford.

A beautiful afternoon and I am in shirt-sleeves all the time. Go see Lynn working at the British Home Stores - she's quite busy, then go see Denny. I get a pair of trousers, but John comes home empty handed. A bomb-scare in the Arndale Centre held things up for a few hours. Give Sue and Peter a lift home at 6. (Cousin) Jackie and Lynn arrive home together, and by 8 we are in the Hare & Hounds. Lynne M doesn't come until nearly 9 because Chris was ferrying her and Peter M. Move on to the George & Dragon where I have a tremendous laugh with Dave L. Nobody wants to go to the other Jackie's party, and therefor Chris, dear Lynne, Peter and I go back to the Mather residence where we stay till 2.30.Mr & Mrs Mather are like somebody from the 'Forsyte Saga', but the most decent future possible in-laws anyone could wish for.

-==-

Tuesday October 8, 1974

Shocking day. Miss my lift with Mr Rawnsley and have to walk down the lane. The traffic is terrible. Don't arrive at Leeds till nearly 9.20. Busy day because Carol is still away - though we do manage to keep level and tidy. Eileen is much more helpful than Janice Beaumont ever was. Have no lunch and by 5 I'm quite starving to death.

Meet Lynn and Al (Dixon) on the 33 and we come home together. Thorpe Lane is certainly a straining walk on an empty stomach. Demolish a pile of liver and fruit pie. Do sweet sod all tonight and continue reading the Prince of Wales, which is fascinating. Haven't looked at the Duke of Clarence book since the weekend. It got slightly gorey towards the end & Dave Baker seemed interested by some of the intricate detail when I enlightened him with some of the facts on Saturday night.

Ring Lynne Mather at about 9 o'clock and we, or rather I, decide that we are to meet in Otley on Friday night. At first she thought I was going to bring all the mob with me, i.e. Chris, John, &c, but I made it quite clear I would be waiting upon her in a single capacity. She plays the typical 'hard to get' Miss at first but I tell her to be at the bus station for 8.30. No doubt she'll be late, but I am going to make it clear from the start that I will have no nonsense with her. After all, there's plenty more fish in the sea. More party political broadcasts all night, and bed at about 11 o'clock.

-==-

Friday June 8, 1973

Revise until 12.30. Go to the Yew Tree pub in Otley with June and Janet Roots. Andy Graham, Pee Wee, and Kim Dean are playing darts. Go to the river at 3. Very hot and humid. Dave and Christine arrive. Go on the river in boats until 4.30. I feel very irritable. Exams looming up. Dave takes us home in his car at 5. Drop June off at her sister Christine's on Netherfield - where she goes for tea. Take Christine and Stephen Holmes to Horsforth.

Not going back to school until Thursday morning.

Go to CW at 7.30. Sue and Toffer hear my news about me going to Brian's wedding on July 7. They're not upset about it. Busy until 1. Come home and go straight to bed.


--==--

Tuesday April 24, 1973

The alarm clock sang its merry song at 10 this morning. The sky was overcast but it was dry! My prayers have been answered. Had breafast at 10.30. Mum made John and I some sandwiches and I rang Dave at 11. He said he would meet us at the Station Hotel at 12. The same time as June and Sue B. John and I prepared for the fishing expedition. At 11.30 we set off for Guiseley. We sat on the seat outside the Albion Fisheries.

June and Sue came at 12.03. We all sat together waiting for Dave. Mum and Dad with the girls went passed in the car at the same time that Dave arrived. Bidding farewell to mother and co. we piled into the car and set off for Otley.

To cut a long story short, after driving for 2 hours around the wilds of Wharfedale (with June on my knee) we arrived at Bolton Abbey at 2. We had ice lollies at an old cafe, then walked alongside the river and played tig and made several attempts to push each other into the water - unsuccessful ones. We tried to walk to the Strid, where Dave had not been before, but an old man on a gate said it would cost us 4p each. It seems that the very air we breathe will cost us money before long! To register our protest we crept up a bank and walked to the Strid avoiding those little sentry-box type green huts where OAPs lurk with ticket machines, etc.

Dave accidentally smashed his spectacles in the loo - I can't think how. And poor Sue fell in some filthy mud and had to bathe - fully clothed - in the Wharfe in order to cleanse herself. She looked very self-conscious and uncomfortable. June was delightful, wearing green denims and my bush hat. We picked wild flowers together. The countryside was too perfect. We didn't fish once. No one bothered. At 4.30 we set off regretably for home. June and Sue got out at Grandways. I gave her a letter which I wrote on April 19. She's reading it tonight. Dave brought John and I to Guiseley. I hate leaving June who is becoming very attached to my knees. What a girl she is!

Went to the CW at 7. Busy as a "poor Saturday" which means very good for a Tuesday. Depressing evening and an anti-climax to the day. Came home from the CW at 12.30. Had supper and retired to bed. Toffer paid me £2. So it was a Saturday after all!!

--==--