Thursday April 19, 1979

_. To Leeds with Jim R bearing my red suitcase packed with nearly all my possessions. At lunchtime I bought a ticket and passed the afternoon hanging around in readiness. It was unfortunate really because the coach to Manchester didn't leave until 6pm.

I had a pleasant chat with Ursula before marching out of the office at 5:30. Slept all the way to Manchester on the boring M62 and then got a bus to Stockport arriving there at about 8pm. I managed to get lost. The statue to Queen Victoria was facing one way, and I walked in the opposite direction. Billy told me to follow the old Queen. Dave was out searching for me and so I sat at the bar in the Hollywood with a heap of tongue sandwiches and a pint of lager, chatting with Mrs Glynn. An old boy leaning on the bar was reminiscing about the British pulling out of Malta in WW2, which was really interesting. We then discussed the pros and cons of marrying for money, and we decided it was quite acceptable. I did say that the fortune would have to be considerable before I could contemplate such a move.

Dave G came in at 8:30 followed by Bill [Wright] & Garry [Barratt]. The lads seemed quiet and subdued. Neil arrived with two other Bournemouth trippers and we sat drinking ale until 11. _________.

-=-

Thursday January 25, 1979

Left the YP at 12:30 and met Jacq in a pub the name of which I have forgotten. It's the one behind the Yorkshire Crown in what looks like a cellar. We had a few drinks and I gave her £5.

Derek Sate has had a street named after him in Buckinghamshire ~ 'Sate's Way' & so he's now joined the ranks of the likes of Queen Victoria, the Duke of Marlborough & Clement Attlee. He's also now in possession of a Cadillac ~ with air conditioning ~ and the usual automatic toilet roll holder. He's just been up to see her for the weekend with Carol, who is having trouble with boils on her head.

Tonight: Chippy phoned at 6:30, Dave Lawson phoned at 7 o'clock, and Dave Glynn at 7:30. Popular aren't I? Dave L is home until Monday and we arranged to go out tomorrow night, Dave G just wanted a chat, and Chippy says he will collect me at 8. Plunged into a hot bath & then out to the Shoulder (of Mutton). We were joined by Dave Wainwright, whose car broke down outside. A pleasant night, though Oakwood Hall was empty of familiar faces & quite dull compared with last week. I made a concerted effort to curb my drinking consumption after midnight. Home at 1:30 joking with four girls in a car on the way back. We sat and chatted at the roadside for ten minutes or so.

-=-

Tuesday June 27, 1978

Moon's last quarter 12:44

I have been looking at my ancient diaries to see what I have done on June 27 in previous years and it has left me quite sad and reflective. One thing's for sure ~ June 27, 1978 isn't going to say anything outstanding.

This day in 1830 was a different matter altogether. On June 27, 1830 King William IV was proclaimed throughout the land and the bells pealed, as did the potatoes, carrots, and mangold wurzels. Poor William IV was probably an idiot. He was unpopular, and his only claim to fame is that he sired scores of children to an actress, Dorothea Jordan ~ and they all took the surname FitzClarence (William had been Duke of Clarence). His wife, Queen Adelaide, produced 2 sickly daughters who died in infancy. William's demise in 1837 after a thoroughly unstable and feeble reign saw the accession of Victoria the Great ~ his niece.





Ode to William the Fourth

Poor William,
You were stupid,
I've often been told so at least,
I think you were best in the navy,
You're the King I remember the least.

Bum!Bum!

-=-

Monday February 20, 1978

Phone calls from Carole and Jacq. I'll deal with them in alphabetical order. Carole says she's not feeling too well and has headaches. She is 'dis-engaged' from Peter Fogarty ~ and it's over once and for all. She is going back to hospital. God Bless her.

Jacq phoned. She's pleased I'm able to go to Gina's wedding. I tell her a letter is in the post. She has managed to get an application form for Ladbroke's. She will be staying at a Youth Hostel in Hanover Square, Leeds, until she can lay claim to a flat. We joked about coming to live in the centre of Leeds when the Ripper is running free, but she says things can't be any worse than in London.

Walter Sickert.

On Feb 7 I had a chat with Speed about the original Jack the Ripper and today Mum says that a programme on the BBC has said very much the same: i.e that the Duke of Clarence married a prostitute and had a daughter, who married (Walter) Sickert, the painter, and that the 'ladies' who knew of this liaison and child were 'done away with' by the 'bloody, hand-shaking Freemasons'. I really must have a word with Speed tomorrow and see what he actually knows. According to Mum Queen Victoria's physician had the poor 'Duchess of Clarence' shut away for life, and that he too was in on the murders. This of course implicates the dear, old Queen-Empress.

Nothing much else. It's diabolically cold. The south of England is having an Ice Age and we're not much better off up here. Older people walk around saying 'Oh, it's just like 1947' and younger ones say 'Oh, it's just like 1963'. All quite boring. Sheep are being buried alive. Edith's son, Kenneth, is buried in the drifts at Newton Abbot.

See TV again. 'Jeremiah Johnson' starring Robert Redford, &c. Dame Marie Rambert is 90 today.

-=-

Sunday December 11, 1977

3rd in Advent. Not a very comfortable night. Dave and I were tucked up in the same bed again. Me at the bottom and Dave at the top. I kicked him several times in the face.

We eventually took breakfast at noon and went straight into the bar for yet another session. I cut down my alcoholic intake drastically. Bill was amusing. He seems to have taken a shine to me. We chatted away in Rotter's like we were ancient friends.  I fear Garry is very shy.

Queen Victoria: is that a smile?

At 2 we had lunch and watched 'Royal Heritage' with some film of Balmoral including scenes of the Queen and Duke (of Edinburgh) dancing Highland reels at a ghillies ball. The royal way of life is no different to what it was in Victoria's day. Princess Alice, Countess of Athlone was featured too and she said she'd once asked her grandmother, Queen Victoria, whether she had ever said "we are not amused" and the venerable old lady flatly denied she had ever uttered such a sentence. Princess Alice is disappointed. Victoria, she says, is a much maligned monarch.

At 7:30 after bidding farewell to Mr & Mrs Glynn Dave, Bill, Garry and I went to Manchester. More booze (only a slight amount though) and at 8:30 I left for home. Won't be seeing the lads again until the New Year. Dave is working on New Year's Eve. Home by 10:30.

Mum is knitting me a 'sloppy' pullover which, to the horror of all present, doesn't even fit over my head. Certain amendments are going to have to be made, I fear.

Back to the YP in the morning. It's going to take a super human character to get through the day.

-=-

Sunday December 4, 1977

_.2nd in Advent. Slightly better. In fact I'm a lot better. Just watched TV the whole day and ate a sizeable Sunday dinner at about 6:00pm.

Watched 'Royal Heritage'. It was about Victoria and Albert. 'The Count of Monte Cristo' is finished! Over a thousand miserable pages in about as many days. It's nothing to be proud of at all, Michael Rhodes. Two months to read a book. I really should be horse whipped. I bet Mr Dumas wrote the bloody thing in half that time.

Mum and Dad went out for a drink tonight and I watched a play called 'Waste' on the BBC. Quite good.

-=-

Saturday April 30, 1977

Mama and the whole household are spring cleaning this morning and so I dress and escape with a pile of library books and Miss Rushworth's umbrella in the direction of Guiseley. Called at Bedside Manor and handed over the stolen umbrella to Bill Rushworth. He's a real weirdo. Grumpy and positively frightening. However, Mrs R. is extremely pleasant. Judith climbed out of bed and joined me in her lounge. She looked ghastly without the help of cosmetics and complained of a headache. I left after 10 minutes.

Lynn

To the library and got a further volume of Queen Victoria's correspondence with her eldest daughter (1871-78).

Had a record session all afternoon.Only Susan & Peter N are at home for me to annoy. Tony rang to say he wouldn't be at the Hare tonight because Linda doesn't like the idea. _________. I quite fancy Linda myself.

Martyn and Ruth, who are also a doomed relationship, are joining me at the Hare. Went down with Sue and Pete at 8.30. CB left shortly afterwards with a familiar, unnamed face, and Miss Dibb and fiance came in too. Chatted with Judith and Dave (working in the bar) and got along famously. The new manager seems like a decent enough bloke and when Lynn and Dave came in L approached him and got a bar job for Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday evening. Lynn actually behind the bar! David Andrew is far from happy with the idea. How snobby and petty can you get? The whole situation would be different if Mum and Dad had bought a free house pub. Oh yes, you're allowed to work in a bar if you own the bloody place, but being a common serving wench is a different bloody matter.

Peter and I went to the Chinese takeaway on Otley Rd and got some for Sue too. Played my BBC 50th anniversary LP which Peter hasn't heard before. Bed at 2am. Dad came in ten minutes later stoned out of his mind. They'd been to Flashman's with Charlie and Betty Davidson.

-=-

Tuesday April 26, 1977

The great battle with Kathleen never took place. She came in at 9 o'clock and did a Neville Chamberlain on me. In other words she appeased me and for a few minutes I was astounded. "Before you have chance to say no and refuse me" she said "I'm not going to ask you to work Friday nights". That's my little problem solved.

Carol: like Princess Alexandra of Kent

Sarah demanded some action on Carol's behaviour but Kathleen pointed out that the editor and other great officers of state would be on C's side. Allies as it were. Carol came in the office and paraded about as though she was Princess Alexandra of Kent. Sickening it all was, and Sarah looked piteously dejected when we left this evening. We talked of resigning.

At tea time I asked Susan whether Miss Phillips and Mr Fogarty were becoming engaged today. She says that they entered into a matrimonial agreement on Saturday. Minutes later Tony rang and he mentioned Carole. He rang her today and she told him she 'wasn't really bothered' about being engaged and it had been Peter (Fogarty) who had pushed all the way. Does the girl realise just what she is doing? I never intended leading her on but she is now actually engaged to a poor soul with whom she feels nothing but indifference. Martyn has said she is doing all this to spite me and my reaction was that it was a far fetched suggestion but now I'm not too sure. Lynn plays hell about Carole when I tell her of the conversation and she says Carole's attitude is 'immature'.

It pissed down all morning and blinded us with bright sun in the afternoon. I think I'm very tired. My eyes ache and I feel unpleasant too. I don't think I can put up with the strain much longer.

I just sat in front of the television and watched another play. The nine o'clock news boring as usual with the same old story about the 'stricken oil rig'. One oil rig is very much like another. Pleasant sort of person aren't I? Retired to bed at 11 after a bath. Sat with Queen Victoria and the Princess Royal, or Crown Princess of Prussia, or the Empress Frederick or whatever you call her.

-=-

Saturday April 16, 1977

Arose at 10.30am to a brilliant morning. The warmest of the year so far. Mum and Dad go off to the cash and carry in Leeds and they give me a lift to Guiseley with my library books. A 60p fine for allowing four miserable volumes to go two weeks overdue! A somewhat severe penalty don't you think? Blimey, one would think I'd torn them into tiny pieces and devoured them. Back home by 12.

Have two cups of coffee and look at volumes of Queen Victoria's correspondence with the Empress Frederick, 1861-1871.  I believe I've read the 'Dearest Child' letters which covers the period prior to 1868, I'm not sure. I also got two volumes of Trollope's 'Palliser' novels. Don't know whether I'll read them or not.

Later sat in deckchairs at the front of the house with Mum whilst Dad messed about under the car. John and Maria brought baby at 1.30 and Maria went off shopping to Bradford leaving both Johns with us. The baby is taking much more notice of things. A delight he really is. Expect to see Tony who said he might call in with his son, Stephen, who is two and a half, but we see no sign of him.

I retired to the lounge at 3 to watch the ancient film 'The Winslow Boy' on BBC2. Sue and Peter joined me with JPH and they attempted to feed him with chocolate buttons and a Milky Bar.

At tea time Maria returns from her shopping trip with a Boots gift token for 'someone' she tries not to mention. Is it perhaps for Miss Phillips's engagement? I wonder. Why keep it all a secret?

John announces he is going to the Hare and so I give in and say I will join him. Willpower isn't one of my strongest points really. Out to the Hare. Stand with CB for an hour until she goes off with Chris Blades. I then spotted Cowie (remember him? The Emmotts with June, Linda West and me in the Spring of 1973). I stood with him and his common-law girlfriend until closing time. He gave me his address and said something about keeping in touch. Great stuff. Pete M is hilarious. 'Orgasm' appears to be his favourite word at the moment. He must have just discovered them or something.  Supped Guinness tonight.

Tony and Linda came in at 10 o'clock. We were all laughing about Christmas babies for some reason.

-==-

Saturday January 22, 1977

Queen Victoria's big day again (she died on this day in 1901). Don't get out of bed until afternoon, and after 'breakfast' Mr & Mrs Mather go off in the direction of Scalebor Park to visit Mr M's mother, who is dying. Mrs Leah Virginia Mather (formerly Lee, born July 19, 1895), I think. (Just for genealogical purposes). Lynne and I look at a map of Sussex and find Angmering (where my grandmother is said to have been born). The place is about 3 miles from Arundel Castle, home of Uncle Miles. You never know, I might be the rightful Earl Marshal of England.

Peter: 'spot of bowel bother'.

At4 o'clock we go shopping to Scarborough . Not much really, but it satisfied Lynne at least. I loathe going round shops with females. Anything but that.

Mr & Mrs M get home at 7.30 to say Grandmama is on her last legs. We have chicken for dinner and then hang around until 10.30 waiting for Lynne to ready herself. Peter, Chris, Lynne and I go to the Bali Hai (Tiffany's) at Scarborough, which is nauseating. It's like a musical childrens' playground. Lynne complained the other week about the Penthouse being 'rough' but this place is far worse. Drank Pernod. Back to Ty-Onnen by 2.30. Completely shagged out. Peter had a spot of bowel bother and almost gassed Christopher to death.

-==-

Wednesday February 18, 1976

Old Princess Alice, Countess of Athlone is 93 next week and I'm hoping she'll last out until June next year because if she does she'll be the oldest living member of the British Royal Family. I think I'm right in saying that Princess Alice is the only surviving holder of the VA (the Order of Victoria & Albert) which hasn't been conferred since Queen Victoria passed over.

--==-

Monday January 19, 1976

I'll be glad when Wednesday is over and done with and the 40,000th edition of the Yorkshire Post is out of the way. Sydney Burton and I have been buggering about with the old files now for what seems like months.

The 40,000th edition is on Wednesday which is the day before the 75th anniversary of Queen Victoria's demise, and the day after the 40th anniversary of the death of George V. It's a pity really that King George couldn't have hung on for an extra day, or on the other hand it's a shame that Queen Victoria didn't die a day earlier.

From 3pm until 5 I helped Sarah go through the YP birth columns for 1975 to discover the most popular christian names. James and Elizabeth are in the lead at the moment and I'm surprised really. Elizabeth doesn't seem particularly popular to me at all.

Kathleen says that she's been to the Henry Jenkins pub many years ago and remarks how nice it is and that it's a typical country pub.

Later: Carole rings me to say she thinks I want to finish with her and that I'm just being 'nasty' to make her finish with me first. Being a typical coward I cannot end it and say nothing when she keeps asking me if I want to stop seeing her. I inform her that I soon become bored and that I'm a restless, roving soul. She understands and concludes: "Oh, I am relieved that it's all settled and worked out for the best". Nothing is settled or worked out at all, as far as I can see.

-==-

Monday June 30, 1975

Pleasant day, but piles of work to do. Sarah and I go shopping at lunchtime, and I lay hands on a new T-shirt for the coming Spanish trip. It cost £2.99 which isn't bad. The last one I got was £3.50. I'm not really making excuses, but the weather was so hot we just had to have a drink. So into the Ostlers we hurried and drank three pints of cider between us ( I had two thirds of the three pints). We arrange to do Town Street again next Friday, but starting at the Fleece instead, and at 7pm too. I can hardly wait.

Home at 5 feeling starved again. After tea I chase around the back lawn with the mower and do a good job of it I think. Dad was spraying all the roses with fly killer, and Susan was watering her 'night scented stocks' - so on the whole we made an industrious little bunch.

Do sod all in the evening other than read a really revolting book about King Edward VII and the Press, by a Yank called Robey, or something, and I really think it numbers among the worst books I've ever clapped eyes on. The memoirs of Raffaelle, Duchess of Leinster were the worst, but this thing comes a close 2nd. He's convinced that Queen Victoria was perverted sexually and insists of inventing members of the House of Lords. 'Earl Russell of Clarendon' for example. There's never been such a peerage title.

Saw Mr William Hamilton, MP, on TV tonight. He was discussing his book 'My Queen and I' - a revolting pack of lies and abuse. Hermione Gingold, the actress, really pulled him, Mr H, to pieces, and he hadn't a leg to stand on. This so called 'honourable' member for Mid-Fife ought to be transported to Uganda to take the place of Denis Hills, who faces a firing squad there on Friday. I'm sure Britain wouldn't mind, and General Amin isn't bothered who dies so long as he sees blood flowing. Sad really.

-==-

Wednesday May 28, 1975

A right Royal Day today. I arrived at work to find a photo of the bearded Prince of Wales on my desk, and I was startled to see how much he looked like a young King George V. Without further ado I delved into the picture archives and emerged with a photo of George V, suitably bearded of course. The resemblance is remarkable and I realised immediately that this would be a good idea for a story. 'People' the YP diary is an obvious place for such an article. However, my labours are in vain, and every time I attempt to pass on my ideas they are shouted down and ridiculed. By lunchtime I have given up hope. However, at 3 I was approached by Chris Dawson with a request for pictures of ALL the bearded monarchs of England. 'Hell', I thought, 'how many Kings of England have been bearded. Let's solve this by a process of elimination.' George VI and Edward VIII were clean shaven, and so was Queen Victoria. King Edward VII and King George V were proud beard owners, and none of the first four Georges had one. Queen Anne didn't have one, and William and Mary couldn't grow a beard between them. So, in one way or another the throne of Great Britain was beardless between 1649 and 1901. Henry VIII and poor Charles I were reasonably endowed with facial hair, but that's about all.

But alas, and alack, no sooner had I suppled Chris Dawson with images of bearded kings that I receive news of horrific consequence. Carol is shouting something like: 'He's shaved it off! He's shaved it off!' Indeed, the prince has succumbed to the razor. Carol was laughing hysterically. 'He's got a moustache now'.

The thought of searching for moustachioed monarchs didn't please me all that much. Poor Dawson returned to his desk, head bowed at the thought of losing a good story.

On my arriving home I look in at the 6 o'clock news and see the Prince of Wales endowed with a moustache dressed in robes of Grand Master of the Order of the Bath, and looking remarkably like the Prince Consort. However, I have made up my mind never to notice resemblances amongst members of the Royal Family again.

Home at 5.30 for tea and prepare to see Leeds United in the European Cup. Dave Baker joins us and we indulge in a few glasses of lager, ale, &c.

-==-

Tuesday May 13, 1975

Weird day. Cold, sunny, thundery, and then quite warm. I couldn't really fathom what it wanted to do to us at all. However, the sun shone at 4.30 when I went for my bus which is all that matters really because it is the only time of day when I'm exposed to the elements.

Auntie Mabel went into hospital today in order that a surgeon could examine her breast. It may be a cyst, but one never knows, what with breast cancer on the increase. Auntie is a reasonably healthy woman and at 56 she stands every chance of making a brilliant recovery. Poor Marlene will worry though, because she is totally devoted to her mother.

Do nothing this evening other than look in at the television which is a good night tonight. See 'Edward VII' of course and once more revel in the delights of Annette Crosbie's Queen Victoria. Also see a programme on the war years in the north of England. Horrible scenes of devastation in Sheffield and Hull and moving film of visits by King George VI and Queen Elizabeth to the bombed areas. Dad was quite choked because he was eleven when the VE Day celebrations were going on, and all that ancient, crackly old film brought the memories flooding back to him.

I'd like to write more but the difficulty in sharing a bedroom with ones younger brother is that they sometimes feel awkward and tired even though it's only 11.30pm. So before he climbs from 'neath his sheets and kills me I'd better conclude this entry and retire. Goodnight everyone, and God Bless.

-==-

Thursday April 17, 1975

The name Barbra Streisand will forever be imprinted in large capitals across the frontage of my heart. The woman should be knighted or perhaps canonised by by Pope Paul or something. Joan of Arc, Gladys Aylward, Queen Victoria, Germaine Greer and Princess Anne can ALL stand aside for this lady. Boy! What a Girl! Those eyes! That nose! That figure. God! Dave, Sandra and me went to to the Odeon in Leeds to see 'Funny Lady' in which Miss Streisand excelled all bounds of things which one normally excels. It finished at 10.30 and we nipped into the Take and Bake in Headingley for chicken and chips. Sandra devoured a nasty looking sausage and baked spud with crumbly cheese all over it. The car windows were so steamed up that David had to guess (more or less) where the bloody road was. Sandra looked sexy. I still don't believe she's as old as she surely must be - if you know what I mean. Well, she only looks 21-22-ish, no older than say Sarah - and yet her son Gary must be eight if he's a day. Wonderous it really is. Home at 11 to chat with Ma and Pa for half an hour. I try to persuade them to say they'll go to Windsor for a weekend with me in 3 or 4 weeks time but all Mum can talk about is my holiday in August and how much I'll have to save for it. Once again I'll finish with one word. Yak!

-==-

Wednesday January 22, 1975

Dad wakes me at about 10am with a cup of tea - no sugar of course. I don't think I've mentioned the fact that on Monday afternoon I stopped taking sugar in tea, coffee or whatever other drinks I will be partaking of in the future. Sugar can't really be beneficial, and besides, with the price of it rocketing up and up it's bound to make it last longer at home. It all tasted weird at first, but now I'm quite used to it. Sit in bed gulping tea and reading of the death of the Prince Consort in my new book. How anyone can be devoted to someone else, like Victoria was to Albert, I shall never know. I do tend to be a loner. The thought of a permanent partnership with a young lady brings on suffocating nausea. Marriage for me is out of the question for five or six years at least. Two years ago I felt quite different. June would have been down the aisle and then swept off to a little hotel in Majorca if she'd have let me. Thank God she didn't.

Saw something in the paper the other day suggesting that Hugh Fraser, the feeble husband of the sexy writer Lady Antonia Fraser, is to stand in the election for the Tory leadership. I quite fancy the idea myself. Margaret Thatcher just wouldn't do. And with Mr Heath going about killing dolphins just for the sake of it, I see no point in him remaining leader any longer - the poor sod is obviously off his rocker, i.e. mad.
Meanwhile later that evening: whilst on the phone to Chris, Dave walks in and drops a snowball down my shirt front! The winter is come at last! About bloody time too.

-==-

Sunday December 1, 1974

Advent Sunday. Henry I, died 1135. The first of December today: a lovely month indeed.

Had a good night again but was awakened at the unearthly hour of 11.0am by Mike Jenns and Steve, or 'The Wizard' as he is known. We make the best of it, and sit about with a coffee until lunch.

After lunch, Dave, Mike Jenns, the Wizard, and his girlfriend Sabia, Barbara (swoon), Noelle, and a little horror called Caroline all go in D's car to the Malvern Hills, a beautious spot indeed. We walk a few miles to the highest peak where a memorial is dedicated commemorating the 60th anniversary of the reign on Queen Victoria. Coming down a hill in the direction of St Ann's Well, I fall flat on my back staining my jeans bright green. The water from the Malvern Hills is favoured by the Queen, who drinks no other water. We call in at a good pub where I sample the lager - I drink little else these days. Back at college, Dave, Barbara and I go into the art room where I paint a caricature of her. She and Dave were reduced to hysterics at the sight of it and lay helplessly on the floor for about half an hour. She says she will treasure it forever as a reminder of my visit. Do little else tonight. Sleeping on Dave's floor. John Lessor is good fun_____.

--==--

Wednesday October 23, 1974

Very quiet day & nothing interesting at all happens. Don't ring Lynne because I forgot all about it until after 9 and decide that it's far too late to bother.

Read a book about the Crown and the constitution till after 12 and drop to sleep with visions of Queen Victoria and Lord Palmerston floating above my head & melting into the wallpaper.

-==-

Sunday February 10, 1974

Queen Victoria married Albert, 1840. Up with the larks at 12 noon. Poor Dad went to work at 10am where he will remain until 10pm. The current miners crisis renders it impossible for the police force to have days off or any free time at all. But still, working a 12 hour shift will bring in a bit more money.

Have bacon for breakfast, then listen to the radio as usual. Lynn and Sue are now successfully recovered from the joint attack which they both underwent earlier this week. This evening Sue is bringing her latest, Peter Nason, around for a record playing session. My sisters have had more boyfriends than even a computer could record. However, I see no reason why they shouldn't enjoy themselves in any way they see fit. Nothing eventful or anything, except for 'Monty Python' that is, which had me in stitches. Ironically, now that the tv is back to normal hours, Mum and Dad spent all evening stood before the new washing machine, watching the clothes spinning round! It's a funny world isn't it?


'Tiger Feet' by Mud.

-==-