Saturday January 31, 1976

Marita, 21. John & Maria get engaged. However, this historic and fabulous event was marred by my antics this afternoon when I 'finished' with Carole on the phone at 2.45.

It was something I decided to do last night, and is something I regret having done. She wept and said she loved me and wanted to know my reasons, and so I went down to meet her at the White Cross. I marched down Thorpe Lane wrapped only in a scarf and was soon frozen stiff. Carole met me walking down the lane and we both walk back to the Cross. She couldn't stop crying and I became horribly upset by it. Her devotion and love for me was so clearly obvious, and I realised that life wouldn't be the same without her. Both blue with cold and wet with tears we walked towards Menston, and stood weeping on each others shoulders near Highroyds Hospital. I asked her to go on loving me. Don't ask me why I changed my mind because as far as I was concerned I had finished with her, and all I had to do was walk away, but when it came to it I could not take my arms from around her.

She went into Guiseley to get John & Maria a present and I returned home with a severe case of frost-bite.

Later: Met Carole at her place at 7.15 and go over to the Hare & Hounds immediately. For one and a half hours we're on our own. The others begin to roll in at 9pm and Mum & Dad come in with Jim and Molly.

Maria's engagement ring is a diamond set in white gold and looks perfect. The party starts at about 11 and is a great success. All the mob came suitably furnished with presents.

Chris and Christine were the last ones to leave. John went to bed at about 2.30 and spewed his guts up. Sat up with Dave B, Lynn, Carole, Maria & Mum until about 6am.

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Saturday December 20, 1975

To Oakwood Hall tonight. Andy and Linda's engagement party. ______.

Carole and I had shopped in Bradford all afternoon and she compelled me to get Andy and Linda four revolting 'sundae glasses'. What Andy will do with such things God only knows. But Carole insisted we bought them something and when Carole insists on doing something it is impossible to disuade her.

Went to the Hare at 8 and gave our present to the happy couple. Left the Hare at closing time, and attempted to get into Sweeney Todd's, but failed miserably. That was how we ended up at Oakwood Hall on this joyous occasion.

Carole and I barely said a civil word to each other all night and I almost decided to finish with her once and for all. Somehow I changed my mind. Afterwards, Raymond brought us to the White Cross and the two of us walked up to Maria's, where she's staying. I eat piles of cheese on toast and argue with John about all manner of things.

The walk up Thorpe Lane did Carole and I the world of good and by the time we reached Ridgeway we were getting on like a house on fire, or perhaps a hospital bed.


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Tuesday November 5, 1974

Bonfire Night, &c, &c.

YP all day and then go to Birstall on the bus with Sarah, Michael Johnson and Carol. Michael and I make a 'Guy Fawkes' with old clothes whilst the girls mess about in the kitchen.

Start drinking at about 8 o'clock when the fire is lit, and in the space of two and a half hours Sarah and I polish off a bottle of Cinzano Bianco and a further half bottle of Dry Martini. As you may well imagine, Sarah had to sit down, being unable to stand any longer, and by midnight she could think of nothing else other escaping to a dark room and sleep. I joined her on Carol's bed where we lay shivering with cold 'neath Sarah's black fur coat. We debate for ages on how exactly Carol and Michael can possibly sleep under such conditions. We arrive at the conclusion that the Johnsons are a good deal larger, and undoubtedly more passionate than we are, and this can be the only reason. Sarah goes off into a southern drawl when she's intoxicated and it sounds acutely comical. We're in bed until 2am and Michael wakes us when our taxi arrives.

Home at a quarter to three with the picture of Sarah's lips firmly embedded upon my mind forever. The amiable lady in the taxi looked far less attractive when she asked for her £3.90 fare. To bed feeling horribly drunk and remember, but only vaguely, being sick. I blame the pate which I devoured - liver never agrees with me.

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Saturday September 28, 1974

John's party. The social turn-out of the season, equalled only by Royal Ascot and Princess Margaret's monthly orgies at Kensington Palace. Everyone that meant anything came, and herein is the list:-
Lynn Rhodes
Susan Rhodes
Alison Dixon
Jackie Myers
Christine Dibb
dear Laura
Christine Whitethighs (Phyllis)
Carol Smith
Linda Smith
Denise Akroyd
Christopher Ratcliffe
Andy Graham
Ray?
Peter Mather
Martyn Cole
David Baker
Keith Brown
Peter Nason, &c.

Jackie came at about 6.30 and we went to the Hare at 8. Chris was being his usual over-jovial self, and Denny looked stunning in a rather plain, yet attractive Hartnell creation. Ray (Bond?) and Dave Baker came too, and we move on to the Commercial which is packed to the hilt like the Social Security office on pay day. See Keith, &c and remind him about the party. Home at 11 after Papa had purchased several pints of ale for me. Everyone arrives by 11.30 though Dave Lawson never actually turned up. Didn't drink much in excess, though Auntie Hilda's home brewed parsnip wine knocked the top off my sober self. Harry Monkman did his usual party piece. Alison and I went round at about 1am and poured water through his letter-box, which in the colder soberness of Sunday morning still seems very funny. My sense of humour is one of the mosr regal aspects of my character. After all, King Edward VII and King George VI both had this boy-like humour which remained with them until they end of their days, and so do I. Danced until 4.30 on Sunday morning. Curtains have fallen on the romance between Lynn and Ronnie, and I did keep getting a glimpse of her at the side of good old Dave Baker, who's always had an affectionate bond with her. I expected getting a bed but found Andy and Linda in mine when I drifted up at 4.30am. Ended up in the lounge sprawled between two chairs. Chris was on the floor in a sleeping bag, and Lynn and Jackie shared the settee. Most people went home, even Denny. Throughout the whole evening Mum and Dad were the ultimate in fun and kindness & it completely destroys the theory about generation gaps, &c. Hate parties coming to end, it's abominable.

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Monday January 22, 1973

The main subject of discussion at school today was the amusing events of Fridays drunken engagement party. To my amazement Janet says she caught to bus to Horsforth. It seems I am madly in love with June. But I'm not the only one, or so it seems. Dave, Steve Tate, Peter Hurst, Michael Stott, and many more have fallen under her bewitching spell. I would love to know whether she fancies me...the competition gives me an even greater urge to succeed in capturing her beautiful heart.

It was announced on the late night news several minutes ago that Lyndon Johnson, former president of the United States 1963-69 has died from a heart attack. No doubt the mess in Vietnam added a couple of decades to his life. He has looked 90 since 1966. He was only 64.

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Friday January 19, 1973

Snow. Tim and Liz's engagement party. I had three whiskies and a pint of keg bitter. I escorted Denise to the party. June looked ravishing. Denise and I were out in the cold drinking whisky at 10.30. At 10.45 poor Janet Roots set off in the snow for Horsforth. She was supposed to be Harry Ramsden's just after 11 to catch the 55 bus. Gillian Widdop's brother-in-law brought Dave and myself home at 11.10.

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Thursday January 4, 1973

A look at yesterdays events in the cold light of day certainly changes the situation. I have come to the conclusion that last night's party was all part of a plot by Chris R to push Denise and I together. After me knocking back almost the whole of a bottle of whisky it is hardly surprising that he imagined it to have worked. I feel stupid now. All it has done is make poor Denise confused. I fell into a ditch last night and this morning am covered in scratches. The alcohol in my blood deadened the pain. For the greater part of the day I felt as if I'd drunk a bottle of disinfectant. School was uneventful and I returned home at 4.45. Uncle Harry had just arrived, boasting he'd been drunk since New Year's Eve. He brought a massive quantity of drink with him and he left for a nightclub in York at 6.15. He must be dreadfully lonely. By 9pm I couldn't keep my eyes open. The Christmas tree and decs came down today.


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Wednesday January 3, 1973

Several of the morning newspapers contain stories of a romance between Princess Anne and Mark Phillips. The Sun says they're engaged. Mum says he's a good looking chap and hopes they're in love. I'd prefer HRH to marry some titled chap. We can't have the daughter of the Queen going round calling herself Mrs Phillips. Princess Margaret married a Mr Jones - but HM soon put a stop to that (i.e. Lord Snowdon).
1st day back at school since Dec 19, 1972. Dave, Denise and Chris and I are all going to somebodys party at Dunkeswick. I don't know the girl throwing the party and have never heard of Dunkeswick - supposedly a village near Bramhope or Otley.
We arrived at about 9.30. The venue was a tiny cottage. Excuse me if the writing is horrible but it's now 12.30 and I'm awfully drunk. Several wealthy girls were there, including someone called Debbie, daughter of a millionaire. I drank almost a full bottle of whisky - which accounts for the deterioration of the handwriting. I am in love with Denise.



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Monday January 1, 1973

The bells of St Oswald's Church, Guiseley announced the New Year. I was standing outside Pine Tops - alone on the drive - as 1973 came in. John, Denise, Dave and Chris were inside. I could hear the Smiths next door singing "auld langs ayne". Mum and Dad returned at 12.45 with a party of friends. Sue and Alison came along afterwards. The party went on until 6.30am. John was sick and retired to bed at 3.30, and Denise and I ruined the party for Chris R by telling him that he resembled somebody off an Oxfam poster - he failed to see the funny side and took off home at 2.30. Lynn and Jackie came much later. Dave B fancies Lynn. Dad left for work at 6.30am when Sgt. Bill Stott collected Dave and him in the cop car. Denise and I slept downstairs and saw John off to work at 7.30. Mum followed to work at 9, cursing the fact that people have to work on New Year's Day. I slept from 12.30 to 1.40. I had been drinking whisky.
Auntie Eleanor and Uncle Jack and Stephen (who was as black as the ace of spades) arrived at 7.30pm and stayed until 11.40.
My first day as a European citizen. Britain has signed away a thousand years of splendid isolation to join the 250,000,000 Frogs, libidious Italians, etc. I suppose they'll sell the Queen to the French one day. I doubt whether Her Majesty is in favour of the Common Market. After all, it'll mean the end of the Commonwealth. I'm going to bed. It's 12.02.

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