Thursday June 9, 1977

Mum rang me at lunchtime to say she and Papa were leaving for Gloucestershire this afternoon. No idea when they'll be back. They phoned tonight (Lynn took the call) to say they were safely housed in Stratford-upon-Avon - town of the immortal Bard and all that. I shall never forget my day at Stratford with Dave L two or three years ago.

Oakwood Hall

A disastrous evening. Got home at 5.30 and found a note from Susan asking whether she could join Carole and I at Oakwood Hall. Readily agreed, of course.We met Carole at 7.45 and went to Bingley. Carole and I got on famously in the pub, but at Oakwood it got just like old times. I was having a chat with Peter N about politics and became aware of how sombre she had suddenly become. When I questioned her about it she snapped "you see Peter every night of the week - I expect all your attention on Thursdays". I went berserk and said it was hardly my fault that we only saw each other one night a week and accused her of seeking vengeance on me for what took place in May '76. She slapped my face. God only knows what Peter and Susan thought of it all. The fracas continued in the rear of Peter's car and we were still arguing at 2am. She was the one who picked the fight. I just wanted a pleasant night.

Tuesday December 3, 1974

Another good day. To Stratford-upon-Avon with Barbara, Serena, Mike Jenns, John Kirk, and Dave in the Lawson-mobile of course. The girls were horribly drunk and ploughed into a bus queue of old ladies outside a nice Shakespearian inn. Three old women died and seven were later reported 'serious but stable' in a Stratford mortuary.

A fantastic laugh it all was. Dave and I purchased a couple of pheasants and we carried them with pride through the streets. Had a few drinks before being kicked out at 2.30. Messed about near the river and took several photos.

How happy I have been this year. My entries for Dec 1973 are a painful experience. Moping for June Bottomley was a pathetic saga which dragged on for months. I was upset and depressed but subjecting you to the boring, heart-rending details was a mistake never to be repeated.

Home at 10.30 after travelling for three hours. Barbara is a darling, though she doesn't know that I know that she's a darling. Such a darling.

At home Mum starts nagging about the patchouli oil, and goes on and on...Oh for the solitude of Worcester.

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