Friday October 29, 1982

 YP packed with fun and excitement, as usual. Home at 6, and clad in our finery we went across the road to Mary Moore's at 7. She had pushed a note through the door asking us to join her at 7:30 for pre-prandial drinks. I had to look this up in the dictionary. Ally wearing her cream and gold suit, and looked stunning. We were joined by six middle aged ladies all dressed in black like witches, two 12 year-old females, and a 13 year-old butcher's boy. It was chicken. It was also a case of 'let's see who can talk the loudest'. One big woman had just returned from a coach trip to Austria and didn't shut up about it all night. I had all on retaining my sanity. They all sat, all eyes, jealously watching each other. The dreadful Corinne [if that's how it's spelt] asked us to pay £1.12 to go towards the bottle of 'Pink Lady'. Sod off dear. We were the only guests who took Mary a present, roses, and resented being asked for money.

-=-

Friday July 27, 1979

_. Tonight Ally and I had a drink with Sue and Pete at the Commercial and then went on to Bradford. Peter refuses to drive into Leeds or Bradford, and so Ally drove there in the style of the late Donald Campbell. We were stopped just outside Shipley by an amiable police constable who lectured Ally for ten minutes about motoring at 50 mph in a 30 mph area. He was a decent chap, and let her off with nothing more than a warning.

She took us to view the little house on Club Street, and from there we went on to a house party. Very unimpressed by the other party-goers. Fuddy duddy characters. The majority worked for Bradford Health Authority, and I bet most of them were mortuary staff. I took a litre bottle of dry Martini, but by 4:30am it was there in the kitchen untouched, and so I took it out and popped it into the Spitfire. Is this ethical? I had been hitting the vodka and so my sense of right and wrong had vanished. Oh, and we also came away with a little green Chinese dragon.

We left the party at 5am and went for a paddle in a stream on Ilkley Moor until 8am. Exhaused.

Thursday December 28, 1978

Holy Innocents

Out to Jim and Margaret's this evening. All the family arrived before 10pm and we supped and made merry until nearly dawn.

Maria and I had the usual Goon~like session and I pushed mounds of cream cake into her face. Blame it on the cocktails. Harvey Wallbangers, &c.

David B was quiet but Lynn was boisterous. Susan and Peter went off to bed at about 5:30 (Mum and Dad had left at about 3am) and I was left with Pamela N and Tchaikovsky's 'Romeo & Juliet' until the milkman made his way to the door through the snow.

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 October 7, 1978

Sun rises 07:10 sun sets 18:26

Sunny, warm, bright day. Out of bed at about 11:30 and into a hot bath with the radio blasting at full throttle. I do so love Saturdays.

Jacq phoned me while my ears were full of soap so I told her to ring me back. She rang back at about 2. I arranged to meet her in Horsforth tonight.

Dad collected the proofs of Lynn and Dave's wedding photos from Bryan Waite this afternoon. They're spectacular.

Sarah phoned me at tea time and I told her I'd be up to West End Lane for 8 o'clock. Met Jacq at 8 following a chase through Horsforth because the bus conductor forgot to kick her off the omnibus at her stop.

We went by car with Sarah to the off~licence where I spent £4 on Cinzano, beer and lager. Then we went to the Regent in Chapel Allerton where the party goers gathered. Tony, Martyn, with his girlfriend (who lives in Otley, and who he met in Ibiza in '77)Marilyn, Carol J, &c. Jacq drank 'Jelly Beans'. Sarah was a delight, as usual. A guy strongly resembling Geoff Boycott tagged onto us, and had me in stitches with tales of his recent holiday in Romania. I couldn't think of a worse place to go. Bloody Commies! Tony was very amiable. My recollections of leaving the Regent are blurred and confused. However, I do recall the dramatic arrival at the flat in Horsforth.

Bev Wheeler had lined the driveway with hundreds of candles in jars and I joked that all the aircraft scheduled to land at Yeadon airport tonight would probably come down in the garden. She didn't find this particularly amusing.

Sarah and I smoked 20 of Jacq's cigarettes. I had a debate on racialism with some guy masquerading as a barrister. Sarah was in hysterics when I explained to her that we Brits smell revolting to Pakistanis. They may stink of curry and spices, but to them we smell of stale Yorkshire pudding, and fried smoked bacon.

A friend of Jacq's called Lynda, who used to work at Dacre Son & Hartley caught my eye _______________________.

Sarah picked up a young man called Richard and they left at 4:30am. Carol J and Tony brought us home at 5 o'clock. We didn't attempt to get any sleep until 7.

-=-

Saturday September 23, 1978

Sun rises 06:48 sun sets 18:58

Not too happy today. Could have had a good fight with anyone who cared to try it on. Lying in my bed this morning I decided to go to this so~called fancy dress party as a Harewood House Bird Garden attendant, with one of Delia's stuffed birds stitched to my left shoulder. Ingenious, eh? I spent a couple of hours busily sewing Eric (the little Tit) onto an old white t-shirt.

Susie and Peter took me to Leeds at 8:30 and we joined Jacq and Hayden at Len's Bar, where a few other fancy~dress goers were gathered. I could see a couple of French maids, the odd clown and a very poor imitation of Queen Victoria.

Eric the Blue Tit created a sensation. I was a bit cool with Jacq (who was dressed in a Pontypool rugby shirt and footless tights masquerading as a punk rocker) and found her constant chatter with Milky Bar Kid Haydn (yes, it's spelt the same way as the famed composer) somewhat irritating.

Sue and Pete left for a disco at 10 and Jacq, the Milky Bar Kid and a female Mexican Bandit and I left to get a taxi to the Railway Station. What seems like hours of hilarity followed. We didn't get to the party until after midnight. We laid on an hours free entertainment for tired British Rail passengers, performing a circus act upon a luggage trolley and giving an adequate rendering of "Singin' in the Rain".

Stanmoor Drive was our destination and a bemused taxi driver found it quite easily. We were met by the hostess (the French Maid) but to our horror the booze was already running dry and our couple of bottles of cider looked pathetic.

Jacq did a good deal of scrounging and we knocked back sherry, red wine, and home brewed champagne. Naturally, at about 4am I brought it all back up on some unfortunate cabbage patch on Stanmoor Drive, Burley, Leeds. To my surprise Carol J and Marilyn were in the throng, but they left early to go to another orgy in Horsforth. Marilyn drank my cheap cider and insisted on prodding Eric (the tit) before leaving. I must say I was the most original character in fancy dress. However, I switched from being a Harewood Bird Garden operative to being the Bird Man of Alcatraz.

Jacq and I were among the last to leave and we walked to Guiseley arriving at 7:30am. Jacq was fed up and exhausted on the journey and at one point was reduced to tears.

-=-

Saturday March 4, 1978

Sun rises 06:40 Sun sets 17:46

Michelle's party at Shelf, near Halifax. At 8, Peter N took Sue, John, Maria and me to the Fleece. _________. I wore my new 31 inch jeans and boots. John said I look like a cowboy. Pete M finds my mode of dress amusing, but _______________.

At about 9pm we went to Shelf and the pub The Prince of Orange. I became quite pissed and suffered from hiccoughs on a phenomenal scale. A young lady called, I think, Darryl, befriended me, but she was in a worse state than I was. Michelle looked delectable but no way is she going out with Chris. They barely spoke to each other and she seemed to flit about with every other male at the party. At the party Darryl passed out in the dining room and was carried off to bed. I didn't lay eyes on her again. Shame. John Grady rolled up quite late. He seemed quite miserable. _______________. Steve and Charlie poured after shave lotion all over my head, but it was happy and boisterous. I like Steve because he's so consistent.

The party went far into Sunday morning. Sue, Pete, John, and Maria went off home after attempting to persuade me to join them. I was enjoying myself too much to go. We gave the record player some hammer until dawn. Sadly, as is often the case, people fell asleep, and by 4 or 5am I was bored and lonely. Telling Steve I was leaving I set out on foot down the road towards Bradford.

Saturday February 4, 1978

Sun rises 7:35 sun sets 16:55 Independence Commemoration Day (Sri Lanka)

Keep a diary and one day it may keep you. How true these words are. Anyway, here goes.  A filthy, wet day. Jacqui, Chrissy and I went to Muswell Hill and spent a fortune on wine, cheese and french bread. Over £20 I think. We intended going to see the Arsenal play Aston Villa but the rain deterred us. Instead, the two us went to the Minstrel Boy pub for a few drinks.

Chrissy is going to join a kibbutz as soon as they'll have her, and so Jacqui is coming north within a few months. She says she'll stay at a Leeds Youth hostel until a flat can be found. I think she's remarkably brave about it all. You wouldn't see me dossing down like a refugee.

Back at the flat: we dressed in tramps gear and cracked open a bottle of wine and waited for the first party arrivals. A few came after 9, but it's 'dead' for most of the night. Cheryl came with a new boyfriend, Steve. Joy, who goes to Holland for three months from tomorrow, Shirley, Jake, Trixie (a killer). &c, &c. Jacq was off socialising for most of the night with her male work mates. Trixie, Cheryl and Steve stayed until the end, and we were all drunk, dancing to Glenn Miller. Trixie noted that Steve was being over familiar with me considering we are of the same sex. We laughed a good deal.


-=-

Saturday January 28, 1978

Sun rises 07:45 Suns sets 16:42

Up at 11. Naomi's 21st birthday party. I went to 10, Southway at noon. Susan was laughing as I headed down Hawksworth Lane with my coat pulled over my head reminiscent of a Saudi Arabian.

with WPC Carolle Jones.

Tremendous party. In answer to the question "Do Unitarian ministers get pissed at lunchtime?" it would only be fair to answer: "No, they do not. But they help everyone else become horribly so". The Rev. and Mrs Downing are very friendly, but old. His Reverence told me, quite confidentially, over the bottles in the kitchen, that he had celebrated his 39th birthday on his honeymoon.

Everyone you can possibly think of turned up. CB, Philip H, Carole, Fogarty, and Carolle Jones, of whom I am terribly fond. However, the vast quantity of booze proved hazardous for public relations. CB was pissed and in tears when her young man cleared off with fat Lynne from the Oval, and Fogarty took Carole home at about 3 after he discovered us fraternising in the 'bar'. She only had her arm through mine, nothing sexual. I felt awful about this because it ruined her afternoon. She told me she will write next week.

Naomi is divinely attractive, as is the nosh. Alas, garlic cropped up in most items on the menu. Richard Wellock had to smuggle CB home at 6 or perhaps 7, and Carolle J and I were left romantically linked. She's joining the police force a week on Monday.

Events from now become dreadfully hazy. Burley in Wharfedale, Flying Pizza, lager, cousin Dorothy, pool tables, Carolle in my old raincoat, &c. Yes, all this splashing around in my lager logged brain. I recoil in horror at the thought of visiting my fierce cousin Dorothy. C and I were horribly pissed, but as far as I can remember Dorothy was diplomatically silent on this. Carolle in my filthy, old raincoat looked spectacular. The Wharfedale Gate was the last pub we visited I'm sure. We were later refused entry at Il Trovatore before finding success at the Elma. Danced with Carolle all night and her last words to me were: "This time we must definitely keep in touch, Michael", said with a certain knowing look.

Home into bed with a gruesome headache at 1:45am.

-=-

Sunday January 1, 1978

_.1st after Christmas - New Year's Day. Yes, at midnight I was in Edith's garden with a solitary Persian cat. Alone with just my thoughts of 1977. They didn't come to much really. Minutes later I was inside being kissed, fondled and embraced.

Edith & Ernest: not like OAPs.

From here we made a convoy to Pine Tops where the family had finally arrived. Mum, a bit sozzled, is with Christine and Len ( a couple of her buddies). The party got under way nicely but I detected a more reserved atmosphere this year and a falling of of the numbers attending. But I enjoyed it all immensely.

I won't bore you with the party details because when you've read about one you've read about them all, don't you think? I got to my bed at some time after 6:00am. _____________.

Woke up at 12 or so. Jacqui and I went to Edith & Ernest's at 2 and stayed until after 5. She thinks Ern is really interesting. I thought she would. The Blackwells aren't like OAPs at all. He reminds me of Uncle Albert. Back home for a nosh and then watched the film 'Nicholas & Alexandra'. Jacqui was bored by it.

-=-

Sunday October 16, 1977

19th after Trinity. Warm and sunny in Lancashire. I'm not pulling your leg either. I was aroused (in more ways than one) at about 10.30. Pete M, Michelle, John (Grady) and I were lying in a line on a strange sitting room floor underneath one solitary blanket. I felt fresh and awake and John was cheery but Michelle never regained consciousness. Pete was dead to the world too. Sue and Pete are the hardy type, well used to this lifestyle by now. Tea, toast and hysterics followed, and then John took us on a walk around the local rubbish tip (littered with contraceptives, I might add), whilst the hostess, Kathleen, cleared up the devastation.

At 12 we found a pub again and supped and made merry for a couple of hours. Laughed about the events of last night. I met a delightful young lady who helped me to sing tracks from the 'Sgt Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band' LP by the Beatles after which we sat in one another's arms on the settee covered by a warm, concealing continental quilt. Quite bliss, don't you think? Well, it would have been but for one slight flaw. The woman in question was married, and what's more her husband was sitting in the very same room scowling and shooting disapproving looks at the pair of us. Anyway, I sat next to the pair of them in the pub this afternoon and the husband was very friendly with me. I think the young lady had no idea what happened last night. She was so gone.

From here we found one of those hideous Kentucky Fried Chicken places where more hilarity followed. I called Michelle 'Pinky' and invited her to join the others when they come over to see us in a few weeks time.

Sue, Pete, Chris, Pete M and I left for home at about 4.30 and half way home we encountered the fog once again. The weather was ghastly at home.

Just watched TV tonight. Tony phoned.

-=-

Saturday October 15, 1977

Foggy still and at breakfast we had a heated argument on the subject of whether we should still go to see John (Grady) in Rawtenstall if the weather continues. How depressing.

I just sat and stared glumly out of the window in the afternoon with the record player singing away in the background, and by tea time it was much more clear.

At 6.30 we went to collect Chris and Pete M at Horsforth. The journey to Lancashire took just an hour and Mr Mather attempted to break the world land speed record, I fear.

with Noel Pilling and John Grady.

John (Grady) was nothing but pure madness from the moment of our arrival. What's more he is now endowed with a beard. Joined by his friends Gary, Steve and Charlie and a few others and we went for a few drinks and on to the 21st birthday party of one of his friends. Drank pils lager and did a bit of punk rock dancing. I was immediately impressed by a girl called Michelle with shaggy blond hair and tight pink jeans. We left here at 10. It was sad because it all the signs of being an excellent party.

On to the Angels at Burnley. A hot, crowded place, but great fun. It's unbelievable the number of women John is acquainted with - most of them very good looking too. Met Noel and his fiance Karen, who says she met me at Manchester Airport after the holiday but of course I don't remember a thing. Sue and Pete got on well with them all which was good. At 1.30 we returned to the party where the remaining survivors were fantastically pissed-up. We danced and joked until dawn. Hylda Baker made an appearance.

Vodka and Pomagne was the 'in drink' in our set. The highlight of the session came at about 4.30am when Michelle removed her blouse and sat about in her sexy black bra and wonderfully tight pink trousers. Oh how I love drunk women! The way they slur their speech and loll in that appealing manner. It was just too much for John and I. We laughed until daylight.

-=-

Saturday October 8, 1977

Foggy, wet and damp. Party at 102, Grosvenor Road, Muswell Hill, London N10. I got a coach from Leeds at 12.30 and read 'The Count of Monte Cristo' until my eyes ached. We were in the centre of London before I deposited the book in my luggage. The coach driver, making his first venture to the capital, was lost, and we circled Buckingham Palace five or six times before one of my fellow passengers enlightened him as to the whereabouts of Victoria. All very trying it was.

Met Jacqui at about 5.30 and, in pouring rain, we went by bus to Muswell Hill, which seemed just as far from London as did Leeds. It was miles!

George Davis: drinking with his relations.

Jacqui shares a marvellous flat with a couple of other birds - one a sexy Australian. We ate and listened to records until the first party guests arrived at about 9 o'clock. Lononders frowned at the suggestion that we should first go to the pub until closing time. Weird lot. All the men wear one ear-ring, and several claimed to be related to George Davis, the bank robber of Headingley wicket sabotage fame. Didn't know whether to believe them or not. Most people (were) quite pissed, but gallons of wine didn't do much for me at all. The party was good. I thoroughly enjoyed it. My northern accent amused endless people and I brought hours of amusement to scores of Londoners who had never actually met a Yorkshire man before. I remember drinking Pernod and chatting to a Greek.

Jacqui and I get on very well. We were the last survivors at about 4am.

-=-

Sunday September 11, 1977

14th after Trinity. Tony, Martyn, Georgina and Jenny came here at about 5 o'clock straight from Nostell Priory where they'd spent the afternoon. Martyn was stoned out of his mind and looked ghastly. They said how he'd just about been thrown out of the priory after collapsing over a china cabinet packed with object d'art.

Hanging Heaton.

We went first to Ilkley and then to Hanging Heaton and Christine Byram's party. We met Christine (Byram) at the Fox and Hounds first and we all got slightly boozed up. Jenny and Georgina are good girls. The elder one is 28, I think, but doesn't look it at all.

The party was going well but things were marred when Eileen and Michael burst in like members of the National Front. Eileen screamed at a quaking Christine, telling her to 'piss off' and Michael bashed a spotty sixth former who happened to say something out of place. A bad show it was. I made some attempt at appeasement, but like the late Neville Chamberlain, I had no success whatsoever.

Christine had a good weep but by 1am things were more or less back to normal. I became most intoxicated and remember grovelling on the floor with either Georgina or Jenny. My God she knows how to kiss. At one point I thought I might be sucked in altogether. Please remind me to ask Tony which just which girl it was being so nice to me. Another young lady gave me a gin cocktail which probably had a dash of every other spirit in it and that was the last thing I can recall. It is said I made a staggering entry into Pine Tops at something in the region of 4am. Mama was awakened by my pissed staggerings but no blows were exchanged. Oh my head.

-=-

Saturday August 6, 1977

Sue, Pete and I went to Ilkley at lunchtime. Linda W was busy making sausage rolls and Tony was out shopping. Peter just stood with his eyes glued firmly to the Rose & Crown across the road, and it was a very tempting sight. On Tony's return he suggested we go over the road 'for a few'. Peter's dream was fulfilled.

Peter M & John Grady.

Three pints and several Max Miller jokes later we were back at the flat cleaning away months of filth and devastation. Spent £11 at Hillard's on booze, would you believe. Tony had 'words' with Linda just before she left after preparing the food. It all started when she said "I'm not coming if Denise is". __________.

Andy and Linda: married Aug 6 1977.

Home by tea time. I have a message from John Grady in Rawtenstall. He and Steve want to come over for the night - is it all right? Oh My God it's bloody perfect. I waited at home for them to arrive. Mum and Dad went out for dinner and Sue and Pete went on to Ilkley. The lads arrived at about 9.30 with Phil and Charlie - a couple of friends and the 5 of us went to the Crescent and on to the Rose & Crown before going to the party. All a bit pissed. Mum and Dad came to the flat and stayed for quite a while. They were laughing with John, who is riotous. Denise arrived and left at about 2.30 with Ron. ____________.The festivities went on until about 6.30am.









-=-

Tuesday August 2, 1977

Mum and Dad went to Pamela Nason's 21st (birthday party) with Susan and Peter and I sat at home, quite alone, watching the television. Had a bath at 9 and seriously thought of retiring to bed afterwards, but no. Dave B came up at 10 and dragged me off to the Hare to have a drink with John. I dressed like a madman and we sped down to Menston.

Judith.

John looked pale. He left at about 10.45. Judith was in - looking slender with her hair all curls. Lynn was working, and when the pub was cleared Tim (the manager) bought us a drink. Lynn and David brought Judith, Kathryn and I home for home-brewed beer. We all became a little intoxicated, and when Mum and Dad came in at 2am they said the Nason party was still underway at the Nason residence. An old glint came in my eye and Judith, very like-minded, realised immediately what the outcome would be. 'Let's go down for a few', says I. Lynn escaped to bed. David went home and Kathryn exclaimed: 'it's out of the question'. So just Judith and I went down to Filedhead Road until 5am. ___________. Judith and I sat on the floor drinking gin and tonic and a bottle of Dad's home brew. We didn't say much. Just watched the others. It can be really entertaining at a party wondering just who is related to the woman in the lurex blouse, &c.


-=-

Saturday June 4, 1977

Tony and Martyn come this morning to help me put up the Jubilee bunting for the party. A large poster of the Queen in full regalia in the ballroom at Buckingham Palace goes up in a prominent position in the lounge along with Jubilee balloons and a Norman Parkinson portrait too. Very patriotic indeed.

The lads went to Bradford but I stayed at home waiting for Dave and Glen to join us. They arrived at 3.30 and after lunch I took them to Otley where we find an of-licence shop for wine and ale. The three of us spent about £3 each.  We get on famously and Dave is anxious to know when I'm going to Stockport again. The night at the Poco Club was a fabulous evening and it's a shame we don't all meet up more frequently.

Edith & Ernest

Tony, Martyn, Dave, Glen and I went to the Commercial together. Mum, Dad, John, Maria, Sue, Peter, Lynn, Dave B, Dave L, MM, Marita, Sarah, Peter B, Chris, Peter N are in the pub. Not many, and no 'spare' ladies at all. Chris and Pete _________.They're shocked when I say I won't be going to Denise's 21st. I'll be in Stockport on July 9. They took this news very badly. Peter Baker and Sarah had some sort of disagreement in the pub and he took her off home after half an hour or so much to my astonishment. I rang her at 11.30 but she hadn't arrived home and so I presume they must have 'made up' and gone elsewhere.

The throng was joined at home by Edith and Ernest and Mike and Maureen Eccles (the new neighbours). Not many at all really and Lynn says it's the quietest party of all time. I wasn't too pissed and yet I cannot recall much to report. Parties tend to blend together and a six hour spree can be condensed into the space of a few minutes. Glen and I were the last men standing and we were in the dining room listening to Cinzano and drinking the Santana LP 'Abraxas' ...or was it the other way round? I had a couple of cigarettes. That's the minute of my miserable life. It was agonizing watching the dawn break over Tranmere Park and the dreadful racket made by the birds. Oh, my head!

-==-

Saturday April 2, 1977

Wait all day for Dave G and Glenn. Watched the Grand National on TV at 3.30. Red Rum won for the third time making history. We had a private bet on at home. Sue backed the winner.One of mine fell at the first fence and had to be destroyed.

with CB, Ruth and Dave G.

The lads arrived at about 4 o'clock. They're both in great shape. Tea of haddock flan, then down to the off licence for booze and on to the Hare. John, Maria, Lynn, Dave B, Sue, Pete, Chris R, Miss Dibb, Graham Airey, Andy, Linda, Carol Smith and boyfriend, little Jean, and later Mum and Dad, CB, Judith and Kathryn, &c. All back to Pine Tops. A real piss up. Don't remember much. Do recall wearing sunglasses and annoying people playing John's mouth organ. I almost set myself on fire trying to take a group photograph from the top of the fireplace in the lounge. Freaking out until 5am.

As far as I know only Martyn, Ruth, Judith and Kathryn, Dave G, Dave B, Glenn and I were the only ones remaining at dawn, and others, who have no grave but the sea, may well have been fighting it out until the bitter end. I found refuge in my bed. CB was unconscious on Lynn's bed and subsequently my sister was relegated to sleeping on the bedroom floor. I did the washing up and clearing around before passing out. Yes,I am made of the stuff that made England great. Christopher Columbus, Robert the Bruce, Hereward the Wake - all stout Englishmen who pioneered to achieve the greatest empire since F.W. Woolworth opened all them shops.

-=-

Saturday March 12, 1977

Uncle H arrived at the crack of dawn. JPH is with us until this afternoon. (He slept the night in Mama and Papa's room).

Telephone rings: a woman asks me to accept a call and then I hear CB, who says: "you'll never guess where I am." "Where are you", I ask. She says: "St James's Hospital." Yes, she fell flat on her face in the Hare car park last night and smashed her beautiful face on the tarmac. Laugh. She's is bed, or ward 21.

with Tony.

Dave B horribly ill all day - he blames the food last night.

'Priscilla', 'Gregory' and Nora.

with Mum.

Collect dinner suits from Dormie Dress Hire in Leeds. Martyn, Tony and I prowled around Leeds and Tony insulted a female on the mens' toiletries counter at Schofield's. She deserved it. These people who go to work with the attitude that the customer is always wrong need a lesson teaching them.

Went to Tony's at 3 and I slept in a a chair. He was watching a rugby match. Stay to tea and clad ourselves in evening garb.

Tony, Sue Martindale, Martyn, Gayle, Judith and I to Rawdon. Mixed reaction at our mode of dress. The party was a great success. Spend the night calling Judith 'Priscilla' and she called me 'Gregory'. Spent a couple of quid each and got a bit tipsy, but not quite like the other party goers who all look pissed. Maria is wearing fox furs (plus fox head). Chris is there and Dave L. The bar closes at 11pm and the family plus boyfriends and girlfriends go on to the Baker residence, Farthingstone, Old Pool Bank. Audrey Baker resembles the actress Shelley Winters.

Back to Pine Tops very late and don't walk Judith home until 6.30am. Birds singing, &c. And me in full evening dress and a stolen shawl. Yes, quite mad.

-=-

Friday December 3, 1976

Miss Carol Smith's birthday at the Barge, Skipton. Earlier I purchased a new jacket for £28 in Mates. Then to Miss Smith's party. Travelled, of course, by coach and those lucky enough to be included in the party were:-

Miss Lynne Mather
Miss Christine Dibb
Miss Linda Smith
Mrs Maria Rhodes
Miss Christine White
Miss Carla [Martyn's bit of stuff]
Mr John Rhodes
Mr Peter Mather
Mr Christopher Ratcliffe
Mr Andrew Graham
Mr Graham Airey [lover of Miss Dibb]
Mr Stewart Newton, &c.

Home at about 3.30am. A perishing cold night. Too buggered to say more. Lynne wasn't too enthralling. What more can I say?

-==-