Thursday March 16, 1978

Moon's first quarter 18:21

Dearest Christine's 22nd birthday. This afternoon I fought my way into town and purchased for the wonderous lady a can of British knickers and of course the ritual card. Tonight is Willie's 21st and I could not forget him either. I bought him a sordid volume entitled 'British Fishing', but with a naked lady exhibiting each 'catch'. The picture of the over weight salmon fisher in her wellies, and nothing else, got me. How did I have the nerve to purchase such a disgusting article?

The party anyway. Christine came at 8 (or was it 8:45?) and we both made a spectacular entry into the Hare and Hounds. We both drank like fish while Willie gloated over his dirty book, and we were joined by the cream of local society, Rick Marshall and Nigel Smith to name a few. We ended up all sharing a table. Rick kept peering over his glass and muttering: "Mick, you're alright, you are", as if it's only just dawned on him what a sound chap I am. The evening became blurred as it wore on. "This time I'm really going straight" said Rick sounding like somebody from a corny episode of 'Z Cars'.

Poor Christine is having boyfriend bother once more. I hung about until about 12:30 and then hot footed it home.

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Tuesday February 21, 1978

Christine phoned to see if I fancied going out tonight. How could I refuse? She told me that Philip H is seeing another girl behind her back, which will be the death knell to this affair. Unlucky in love is something of an understatement where Christine is concerned.

A cold, icy, deadly evening. I went down the lane to the Fox at 8:30, where she's already at the bar with a half of cider. These are always jolly occasions and this one was no exception. Carole came in with Fogarty! They may no longer be betrothed but they look and act much the same as they have always done to me. Christine laughed a good deal. We both affirmed our dislike of Mr Fogarty. The man's a moron.

The Fox and Hounds resembled a funeral parlour and we seemed to be the only beggars enjoying ourselves. Mind you, it is a Tuesday and a damp one at that. From the F(ox) we walked to the Hare. CB didn't like me putting my arms around her and we had an embarrassing tussle in the mist. By the time we got to the Hare we were yards apart.

In the tap room (where the only sign of life existed) we met  Rick Marshall, Willie and his senile girlfriend. R says he's going straight now after last months assault case. Basically he's a decent lad but he's transformed into a snarling monster with alcohol. We talked about Bob Marley, sex and booze. Christine poured half a pint of cider over Willie during a heated part of the discussion.

Judith, looking like a 'Moll' from a Wild West saloon, informed me of her new status at the pub. She's going off to Benidorm at the weekend with the _______little manager. Personally I think _________.

Outside Christine and I were faced with the horror of a hitch-hike home. It was absolutely freezing and so we nipped into the park at White Cross and fooled around on the swings. We were almost at Yeadon before we got a lift, but how thankful we were. I phoned Mum from Christine's and proceeded to stay the night. I sat, wrapped in a sleeping bag, reading about the Universe and planets in relation to their distance from the Sun, until 1:30am.

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Saturday February 26, 1977

A great day. Tony and Martyn come at 12.30 and the three of us go to Bradford. The Gay Liberation movement are holding a mass rally and we seriously consider setting up a 'Kiss Me Quick' stall in Manningham Lane.

Kiss Me Quick Stall?

We go to WH Smith's and make verbal love to Michelle. Delightful bird. Tony buys a pair of shoes, and at 2pm we set off for Uncle George's** residence at Harewood. Up to our knees in mud and slime we head straight for the beer tent where the lager is unbearably cold. Three sausage rolls later we decide that the hill climb is incredibly boring and we head back to the car which is parked in a cow field. Wading through water-bogged trenches we spot the car trapped in by three or four other vehicles. It's like the Battle of Vimy Ridge. Coated in shit we dislodge the car and set off like Japanese mud wrestlers in search of a car wash.

Meanwhile: That night. Down to the Hare with Tony, John & Maria. CB is pissed and says Richard Marshall is rotting in a dungeon in Leeds following an incident at the (Leeds) United match this afternoon. Chris and Pete M come in. Go with Tony, John and Maria to the Craven Heifer at Addingham and Chris and Pete follow on. Tony is such a great lad.

** The Rt Hon. Earl of Harewood.

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Saturday January 29, 1977

Emerge (from my bed) at 11 or so and hear that Lynn and Lynne are going shopping together to Bradford this afternoon which is a relief because NEVER AGAIN will I go shopping with Miss Mather. Our shopping excursion the Saturday before Christmas was one of the most nauseating experiences I have ever had. I'm not joking either. She goes down to Burley-in-W (Lynne that is) to see Stephanie Ferguson about sharing her country residence and comes back saying the rental for the room is £7 plus food and half the bills. Not bad because she forks out £7 already in petrol each week.

Lynn in her dungarees.

Lynn and Lynne return from Bradford at 5 o'clock with a pair of dungarees each. _______. We go to to the Hare at 9 o'clock after collecting John and Maria from Molly & Jim's. Chris, Pete M, Lynne, Lynn, Dave B, Sue, Peter N, Christine D, Graham (Airey), CB (with Rick Marshall !!). Quite a good evening really, especially when Chris gave me the £5 he'd borrowed and which I'd quite forgotten about. Stay at the Hare until 11 and then we take John & Maria back to Molly & Jim's where we remain until 3.15am talking with Molly. She went into great detail about an Edward G. Robinson film that had just finished on the telly. I think she's tremendous and sit enthralled, but by 2.45 John and Lynne were asleep. Only Maria and I survived.

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Saturday September 27, 1975

John's birthday party. Mum is cooking all day and is in a foul mood after hearing from Tetley's that they haven't got the New Inn. She really is shaken about it and says they won't try for another pub if that is how they treat people, but that is hardly the right attitude. To get anywhere these days you have to fight, kick and cheat to do everything possible to secure your choice. Life's a rar race.

At 4pm I meet Carole in Guiseley and we buy some flash cubes for her camera and walk back to our place eating lollipops in the rain. Romantic is the word you are looking for.

To the Hare & Hounds at 8.30. Mum and Dad come down with Bill Stott and his wife, and all the gang gathers in readiness for the party. The guests are too numerous to mention, but you know who they are by now. Back to our place at 11 after talking with RM who is just out of Armley Jail. He stabbed someone in Yeadon and went down for nine months. Silly little sod that he is.

Party is a tremendous success. The food went as if a plague of locusts had descended upon it, but the drink lasted quite well. Mum went to bed at about 1am feeling 'off it' but otherwise no casualties were accounted for. I lasted out until about 5am and had the usual cheese on toast with Martyn Cole. Carole went up to sleep at 3. The poor girl is hopeless with drink.


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