Saturday May 28, 1977

Don't get out of bed until 12 noon but when I do I feel better. Still slightly 'tingly' but better at least. I shudder at the sight of Lynn, clad only in a scanty bikini, laying prostrate on the lawn. 'Don't do it!' I yell from the window, but my pleas go unnoticed as the powerful suns beats down upon my poor, vulnerable sister. Will our roles of last night be reversed and will I be nursing my sister tonight? Time can only tell.

Peter the Alsatian.

Ring Tony and he and Martyn call at 12.30. To the Black Bull in Otley and then the Bowling Green. Very hot day. Feel it penetrating my shirt (the sun, that is). Move on to Otley Show which is something of a dead loss. Nothing to look at but hot dog stands and beer tents. Watch Alsatian dogs competing in some ridiculous charade, and unbelievably the winning dog was called 'Peter'. A dog called Peter?  Peter the iguana - yes, Peter the Tortoise, yes. Peter the budgie, yes. But Peter the Alsatian, no.

Lynn & Dave

Tony comes back for tea and at 8, or possibly 9, we go for Martyn and then to Skipton again. Not very enjoyable and it's back to the Rose & Crown for 10.30. Phil Hewitt and the clan were in - no comment.

Back to Tony's flat. Tony and Martyn fall asleep leaving me with a large glass of Scotch and 'Saturday Night at the Mill' on TV. Oh God, I think, what a bore. But Tony was soon awake and he took Martyn home and then came dashing back and took me to Il Trovatore, where we find Lynn and Dave B. Joined by Ruth and Linda. All back to the flat where we sat all night just talking. The girls left at 3am and Lynn and Dave at 4am. Tony went to bed at 6 and I sat in a chair dozing on and off until 11am. Am I perhaps insane? No doubt.

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Friday May 27, 1977

Beautiful, hot, marvellous day. By 10.30 I'm in the garden covered head to foot in sun-tan oil, reminiscent of a Roman gladiator, and it's in this idyllic pose that I remained throughout the day, breaking off only for lunch.

My Jubilee party is secure. How did I manage it? Well, Mrs Eccles, our new neighbour, was in the garden talking about the noise the workmen are making in her house and expressed her hope that we are not put out by the banging. 'Oh no', said I, 'we're always making loud noises too, you know.Parties and things'. Before I could sit and savour my craftiness here I'd invited her and her hubby to our party on June 4, and Mama, lurking behind a clump of dying tulips, just couldn't say anything. So, it's all on.

How does one manage to get a job in Spain? Do I write to the Spanish Ambassador to the Court of St James? I am very much aware that I asked this question on Wednesday but I've still done bugger all about finding out.

Taking a bath this evening was painful. I realise I've over done it with the sunbathing. In fact I'm not so much like a gladiator now, more like a heap of tomatoes, or pot of lobsters.

Tony rings to say Carole is joining us tonight. I readily approve. Susan joins us without Peter N. He's in Durham at a party with some friends. Independent Pete, eh?

Sue

To the Bod with Sue, Carole, Martyn and Tony. T picks up a tart called Maureen who resembles Shirley Bassey. A bit of a laugh. Very strange to be with Susan and not Peter too. She looks a bit lost as well.

I begin to feel ill a shake with cold. Carole offers no sympathy. She just smiles and says 'serves you right'. Bless her heart. Home at 11.30. To bed with a hot water bottle and an extra blanket. Feel delirious and realise I have bloody sun stroke. Lynn shows some concern and she sits on the edge of my bed offering assurance. By 12 I vomit and then go to sleep. Never felt anything like it before and can't quite understand how it takes 22 years to come to grief in the sun.

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