Saturday May 21, 1977

Wake up to a bright, sunny day at 12.15. Breakfast consists of a cup of coffee and becomes a very sombre affair when I open two letters. One from Hough (dentist) saying I owe him £3.50 for dental treatment I had in March, and the other from Barclaycard playing Hell at the way I've spent £243.70 when my credit limit is £200. Sod the lot of them.

Naomi gives me a lift to the Hare and Hounds bus stop and by 1.30 I'm in the off licence in Ilkley buying a few bottles for the match. Dumped the bottles in the shop (Smiths) and went to the Rose & Crown (with Tony) where we were joined by Linda and Ruth. All friendly enough but _____.

Just Tony and I back at the flat watching the FA Cup Final with three or four drinks. Manchester United beat Liverpool 2-1. At half time we spoke to Stuart W in Paris, and then again when Manchester scored first, and at the final result. Tony was ecstatic.

To Harry Ramsden's for tea and then up to Pine Tops where JPH is staying the night. Hugh Macdonald is home from Canada for a few days and so John and Maria are celebrating with the Macdonalds at Wath tonight.

Ruth.

Later: Tony, Martyn and I go to the Rose & Crown, Craven Heifer (Addingham) and the Barge at Skipton. We had quite a laugh. Back a bit pissed to the flat where we were joined by Linda and Ruth. Linda and Martyn are very quiet and I ended up with Ruth on the floor. Martyn said later that we seemed to be having a right "go". I blame the Carlsberg lager and Ruth's cheap Spanish white wine.

I have never had such a pleasurable experience with a married woman before. Something happened and an angry Tony ejected Linda from the flat telling her to ______. Both girls left, but I remember nothing about it.

In hysterics at 'Help' by Peter Sellers. It's the B-side of his version of 'Hard Day's Night'.

Martyn said nothing all night.

Tuesday April 12, 1977

Dreadful day back at the YP. My eye-balls ached all day long and it took Lord Home-type will power to keep them open throughout the whole tiresome charade. Yes, I am feeling rotten.

Uncle Harry and JPH

Argue with Mum about Uncle Harry. I will not accept that he is alcoholic. Drunkard maybe (if there's a difference) but not a alcoholic. Mum hits the roof and says I should not defend him because it's my type who encourages him to be what he is, but I refuse to stand down and say she's making mountains out of Ilkley Moor. He may neglect himself and be a trifle squalid, but it goes too far to give him such a label. We became quite heated and violent about the whole issue. Regrettable really. Good Old Mum - she means well and has Harry's best interests at heart but why does everything have to be so melodramatic and serious?

Martyn

Out with Tony and Martyn to the Hare, Half Moon and Fox & Hounds. They've been to Scotland with Linda and Ruth. Martyn says he's ____________________. I find boasting about sex grotesquely childish. Tony didn't say much.  He's still ________________.Home at 10.30 thinking I'm being made fun of.  Arranged with Martyn to go out with him and Gayle - me escorting Emu, or whatever her name is. They were amazed I'd consider such a thing.






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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.

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Thursday March 31, 1977

Down to the Hare by bus to meet Judith at 8pm. Alone until 8.45 drinking lager like a fish. Judith comes in followed soon after by Tony, Linda, Martyn and Ruth. I go through money like Vivian Nicholson.

Judith.

Judith is clad in dungarees. A good night.  Pissed as a newt by 10.30 and Judith keeps thrusting cigarettes in my mouth and sighing: "Oh, Michael". Tony, Martyn, and Co, moved on to the Menston Arms at 10, but we didn't want to go and said 'bye bye'.

The lads are becoming serious with Linda and Ruth. Tony whispered to me that he's considering resigning from the Silver Jubilee Lechery Society. Martyn looks as though he's quitting too. I'm glad I enrolled Stuart. I don't want to be the founder and sole member. That would be tedious.

Kaiser Bill.

Back to Judith's at 11pm until 1.30. She says one of her aunts, who was a domestic servant at Chatsworth, got herself fucked by someone not unlike the Kaiser.We arrange to meet at the Pig & Whistle at 11.30 tomorrow, but by the end of the evening she is having serious doubts about whether she'll have surfaced by then.

Bed at 2am somewhat damp following a great downpour. Quite sober by now, and deadly serious.






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Wednesday March 30, 1977

Princess Marie-Astrid.

More in the papers about the Prince of Wales and Princess Marie-Astrid of Luxembourg. The Daily Mail announces that Misses Sheffield and Eastwood and Lady Jane Wellesley are all 'decoys' and that the prince has been 'in love' with Marie-Astrid for a number of years. A load of bullshit. The very organ that has led us to believe that the prince is having an affair with Davina Sheffield is now saying we've all been fooled. You wait and see, the next time HRH is within six hundred yards of anyone remotely female the Daily Mail will be ringing wedding bells and proclaiming 'this is it!'.

The princess is of course very eligible. Granddaughter of Leopold III, King of the Belgians; daughter of the ruler of Luxembourg, but Roman Catholic. Dr Cobweb, the Archbishop of Canterbury is meeting Pope Paul next month. What will crop up in their discussions?  Comment from Mama: "Oh he will marry a princess - it's as plain as the nose on my face."

Work unspectacular. No Sarah. Spoke to Delia on the phone and she reminded me about my birthday tea next week. Yes, 22 years - aarrghh! Who cares anyway? Moses supposedly lived a long and active life and died at the grand old age of 450 or something.

Ruth: 24 years old

Sit in front of the television until 10.45pm when the England v. Luxembourg football match drives me from the room to the sanctity of my chambers.

Nothing on the news. Saw Sir Geoffrey Howe make a reply to Denis Healey's Budget. No phone calls tonight. Tony told me, on the quiet, that Ruth is 24 and has been separated from her husband for 2 years. Blimey, the girl only looks 18. Martyn has yet to be informed of this. Does Ruth know that Martyn is only 18? Age doesn't matter though.

Have a P.G. Wodehouse session after wallowing in the bath. Must write to David of Gloucester.

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Saturday March 26, 1977

Tony comes up at 1am with the Dave B birthday photos and those from last weekend. Really good.

walking in the rain in Menston.

Rang Judith and she rekindled the age old idea of picnicing at Bolton Abbey. Tony is in agreement. The two of us nip to Bradford and lark around for a bit before returning to Judith's. She's clad in tight jeans, wearing red braces and her hair is in pigtails. Killer.

To Ilkley for supplies. Two bottles of wine, bread and cheese, &c. Joined by Kathryn too, of course. Rain at Bolton Abbey, but the four of us eat, drink and make merry. Watch blue tits sweeping down after our bread crumbs.

Judith is tight jeans and braces.

At 2.45 we pile into the Devonshire Arms. All a little pissed except Kathryn who looks ill. Tony comes over all tired. By 4pm it's just Judith and I remaining - drinking tepid coffee at Bedside Manor. We feel as though we should carry on with the drinking. Is it alcoholism, or just the fact that we're almost 22?

We walked in the rain to Menston to see Fat Carol in her flat near the Hare. My God what squalid quarters. She was romping around in her underwear - her hair standing on end, and a strange girl was in her bed. Judith and I felt very uncomfortable. The whole place stank of vomit and the place is reminisceent of a rat infested cell in the Bastile. Horrible. Judith and I walked to the bus stop with horror etched on our faces.

Tea at 6. In the bath. To the Hare with Peter N in his new Capri. Susan, Lynn, Dave B, Martyn, Ruth, Chris, Peter M, &c.  CB was in but she went off with Chris Blades. Stayed until 11. I feel a bit down. Carole and Fogarty are getting engaged at the end of next month. Silly, young fools. Will it last?

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Thursday March 24, 1977

No one at home after tea except sweet little me. After my bath and general sprucing up I rang Tony. He's going out with Linda, Martyn and Ruth. He says he feels quite rotten about dumping me but I respond by saying I'm a good looking lad, over 21, who is quite capable of taking care of myself and able to provide my own amusement. Rightly so. I then rang Martyn.  He says he and Gayle will be in the Hare tomorrow. I then used the telephone for the third and final time tonight and rang Judith. I arranged to meet her and Kathryn in the Hare. Left home at 8.10 and marched all the way to Menston. Yes, on foot.

with Judith.

Virgin Queen?

Not a soul to speak to in the Hare until Judith came in at 9pm. I was sitting near the juke box like 11 and a half stone of cabbage. Quite a good night in all and the climax of the evening could have been dubbed with Handel's music for the royal fireworks when Carol (Fat Carol who works at the Hare) emptied the contents of the ice bucket over Judith and squirted half the contents of a soda syphon over her and Kathryn. The scene which followed was reminiscent of Queen Marie Antoinette's procession to the guillotine as Fat Carol was hotly pursued around the pub lounge. Quite hysterical really.

The three of us then passed on to the Chinese take-away in Guiseley where Judith treated me to a gastronomic delight. Afterwards on to Bedside Manor (26, Fieldhead Road) for coffee until nearly 2am. Kathryn and I debated whether Queen Elizabeth I died a virgin. She died 374 years ago today. Judith was flat on the floor in a coma as this indelicate chatter went on. It's an awkward point. How would one go about asking God's annointed if she fancied a bit of hanky panky? Those who valued their heads would have avoided such banter, we decide. Home to bed feeling absolutely buggered.

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Sunday March 20, 1977

Whilst Martyn and Tony were presumably playing scrabble in a steamed up, dimly lit vehicle with two scantily clad maidens last night I took the opportunity of placing myself at the back of the tent, furthest away from the entrance and on an upward incline. Thus, my nights comfort was assured.

To be honest, the lads had no time to play scrabble in the time they were bidding their fond farewells to the ladies. Whilst waiting I smoked one cigarette and drank half a bottle of chilled beer, which puts their time of absence from the tent at approximately four minutes because you know I don't mess around with bottles of ale.

Back to this morning anyway: Me and Martyn were awake by 8am and our chatter brought Tony from his slumbers ten minutes later. Spam sandwiches for breakfast with Linda and Ruth. Our morning repast was somewhat marred by the sight of the bespectacled ogre from the neighbouring tent with a Joan Armatrading phobia. He cannot have been much older than public school leaving age. His tent was quivering (with fear?) as I consumed my sandwich and swilled Coca Cola. Only public schoolboys can frown like that. You know how I mean, that Winston Churchill look.

James Hunt: race of champions.

To Brands Hatch at 12.30. £4 entrance fee - each. Blimey, the five of us must have paid James Hunt's wages for the day. Mr Hunt won the Race of Champions, as we fully expected him to. The day was warm and the sun shone brightly. Warm enough in fact to sit on the grass and eat more Spam sandwiches moistened this time with cottage cheese.

Tony, Martyn, Ruth, Linda and me. 

Racing good. Linda hilarious. Tony impersonating Peter Cooke and Marty Feldman rolled into one. Marvellous day. Then went on to Linda's father's place in Slough and had chicken and chips in his caravan with his common-law wife and Linda's common-law brother.

We visited every village in Kent, Buckinghamshire, Berkshire and Derbyshire. Saw Windsor on the horizon. Whipsnade, Cliveden House, High Wycombe all came in our path. Hit that nasty big road at Watford at 10pm and thus began our journey north. We stuffed ourselves with sweets in the car  and collapsed in hysterics into the motorway cafe at Leicester again.

Tony, over his brew, said Ruth's hair looked quite nice when in fact it looked exactly the opposite and when she said she felt like a wet lettuce I answered: "Well, why don't you get one, then?" Wet with laughing. Home at 1.30am. House in darkness and silence. To bed. Camping is all very well but one night is quite enough for me. It takes a David Livingstone to last out any longer I'm sure.

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Saturday March 19, 1977

To Brands Hatch, Saturday and Sunday, Perfect weekend.  Tony, Martyn and the girls, Miss Linda White ('White, not Shite') and Mrs Ruth _____ collected me at about 11am.

Linda is hilariously funny and we did nothing but howl with laughter all the way to Kent. Tony and Martyn sat up front leaving me with the two ladies in the rear of the vehicle.

Ruth.

We only stopped for two breaks. Once at the familiar motorway services at Leicester and the other at the Tower of London so that the girls could relieve themselves.

We got to a camp site about 2 miles from Brands Hatch by 5pm. The tent was erected by 6. By 7.30 we were in the nice village pub. We all got on like a house on fire. Like one, happy family. All pissed. Linda recited 'I know a woman with a punt cut square, not a square cutted punt, but a punt cut square'. Martyn tried to follow this, after three Southern Comforts and eight pints and began 'I know an old Cunt'.

We went on to a disco all horribly canned. The place was more like a youth club. The five of us did a spot of formation dancing. And to think we only met on Thursday! Linda is a great girl. Back to the camp site we had such a laugh with a camera and a lamp. Linda playing at Florence Nightingale and me hopping round the tents like Quasimodo. We had the Joan Armatrading tape at full volume in the tent. A rat bag in the neighbouring tent moaned that we had 'insisted' on keeping her awake for 'most of the night' and yet it's only 12.30.

Heatwave and Boogie Nights

Miss Joan Armatrading singing Love and Affection


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Thursday March 17, 1977

St Patrick's Day. Drastic evening out. Well it was for Michael Rhodes. I worked evenings and met Tony and Martyn at 11.30pm outside the YP.  Martyn looked dead and slept peacefully in the front seat.

Martyn: like the Cheshire Cat.

To Il Trovatore for Tony's birthday drink. Whilst I'm at the bar ordering some drinks for the three of us they both have a dance with a couple of young ladies and desert me completely, leaving me helpless with a Coca Cola and a half of Guinness. I found some solace in the company of Denise, Naomi and Carol (that's Fat Carol who works in the Hare on Sunday nights). _______.The girls left at 12. Martyn came over for their drinks and eventually I'm introduced, but I've forgotten their names. Tony told them about our Brands Hatch trip and unbelievably they say they want to join us. Tony and Martyn were like the Cheshire Cat - Tony especially. Buggers. Spent about £5 and got pissed. Home at 2.30am.






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