Monday January 22, 1979

The NUJ decided to come out of hibernation today for the first time since the beginning of December. The country is grinding to a halt. I can name the industries that are not on strike on the fingers of one hand. Mr Callaghan will have to go.

Callaghan: shitting himself at No. 10...

Read Richard Crossman's 1966-68 diaries and find his comments on the Queen interesting. Look them up for yourself if you are at all interested.

One of the Sunday papers did an article on Crossman's relationship with Callaghan, who was Home Secretary and then Chancellor (of the Exchequer) from 1964-70. Quite disturbing, and I bet that the PM is now shitting himself at No. 10. He (Callaghan) is not good in a crisis, is one of Crossman's statements.

John Edward Rhodes.

We have received a letter from John & Sheila in Lanzarote. We can go out there for £30 at three days notice which sounds good. By the sound of things they are the only English speakers on the island. John is doing a lazy, pleasurable job whilst Sheila runs around the volcano fifteen times a day driving holiday-makers from the airport to half-built hotels. She has always carried John through life. I know I have delusions of grandeur, but I think John Edward Rhodes is an even bigger dreamer.



Back from the YP at 5:30 to find Sue, Lynn and Alison with Mama. The girls had been at the Black Bull in Otley all afternoon (market town pubs open until 4pm) celebrating Monday. Lynn had consumed eight pernods. Mum said afterwards that she worries about Lynn drinking.

Watched the telly until 11:30 then to bed with a mug of Ovaltine and the Rt Hon Richard Crossman, Lord President of the Council.

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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).

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Friday October 7, 1977

Phoned Tony to say I'm not going out tonight. I have been to the library and laid hands on a copy of 'The Count of Monte Cristo' by Dumas which held my attention to the extent that I could not bring myself to drop it for an evening and go stand in a pub. _____________. It cannot be helped. I'm sick and tired of people at the moment. At the library I also took out a Wodehouse novel. I have yet to finish the Waugh novels. Having finished 'Decline and Fall' I'm not quite as impressed with a second volume called 'Black Magic' or something. Aren't I reverting to my old intellectual ways? Going to see 'Twelfth Night' with Sarah on November 10, and on Nov 22 it's back to the Leeds Playhouse - also with Sarah. I suppose you can say she has a lot to do with it.

Watched a play on TV with Lynn and David and had a Pernod and a few beers. Retired to bed with 'The Count of Monte Cristo' at about 12-ish. London here I come, tomorrow.

P.S. I've just glanced over what I've entered today and have decided that it looks pathetic and ridiculous that I, at twenty-two and a half, I should be reading 'The Count of Monte Cristo' - may I add, reading it for the very first time too. Can it be put down to my secondary education perhaps? I did read two or three chapters of 'Wuthering Heights' when I was 16. Does that put me higher in your estimation?

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Wednesday April 13, 1977

To be honest with you I fully intended sitting by my fireside tonight with a good book and a mug of cocoa, but circumstances changed. CB rang at 6.30 feeling miserable and saying she has something of interest to tell me. I ask he "what?" and she responds "Oh, I'll tell you tonight at half past eight in the Hare". Bang went my cosy, domestic family evening by a warm telly.

CB: Pontins bound

Mum gave me a lift down to the Hare at 8.15. Judith is propping up a gin and tonic. Oh God, both Judith and CB in one evening. Talk about God, religion, ghosts, our reason for living - all very seriously. Judith believes in nothing at all, and when CB comes in she's like Judith and says only the weak need to believe in anything. Crap, I say. CB says she's resigned from Mothercare and is considering moving to Bournemouth to work at Pontins (holiday camp). Arrghh. She looks pale and drinks too much and then disappears to Oakwood Hall with a mysterious character at 10.30 saying "thanks Mig, and thanks for trying to cheer me up". Bye Bye Darling. Do you know I worship that girl? I'm so glad she didn't go out with Chris last Wednesday. I hate to see her looking bored.

Judith:  joint novel?

Judith and I were joined by Tony at 10pm. He takes us back to Bedside Manor. I was a bit pissed having supped lager and even Pernod in the Hare. At Judith's we discuss writing a novel jointly and have a glass of nauseating Noilly (Prat). Whilst discussing our novel we try to tip the Noilly back into its bottle and then start on the real hard stuff - yer actual McCoy. Me whisky and Judith gin. Pissed up for sure by 2am. Slumped on a rug reading a book about the Goons and the Concordance to Shakespeare. Judith points out that whenever we get together we end up on the floor surrounded by empty bottles. She's so right. Stagger out into the rain at 3am and borrow Judith's Papa's umberella. Get home and banging around I waken Mum. She moans about "coming in at this hour when you're working" &c. Good old Mama. I think the world of her.






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