Friday November 11, 1977

Met Jacqui at 4.45 at the bus station and the weekend began disastrously when the bus broke down and we got caught up in a snow storm. By the time we arrived at Guiseley after 6pm it was so bad we were compelled to seek refuge at the Station Hotel where I phoned for assistance from home and we both had half of lager. I was carrying a pheasant (courtesy of Delia, who did not desire removing it of its feathers and innards) and the bird's beak poked through the polythene bag, dripping blood over the pub carpet.

Dad collected us. He says Mum may have a kidney stone. Dr Mellor says she must shed a stone in weight. Her blood pressure is high. She is pale and ill.

Jacqui.

The rain, snow and gales persist and at 8 Sue, Pete, Janet Simon and Chippy take Jacqui and I to the Fox & Hounds. They then leave the two of us alone and we saw none of the usual Friday night visitors. No Tony, Martyn or 'Piss and Crete'. We had a few at the Fox and then went to see Judith R and Kathryn at the Hare where I became quite pissed. I blame the vivacious Miss Young entirely for my condition. We sat in the Tudor Bar until midnight and then I ran around in the car park with my 'inflated' umbrella until it was smashed to pieces in the high winds. It disintegrated into a warped mass of fractured metal and plastic.

At home the two of us drank 2 bottles of Beaujolais and listened to the record player at a very low volume until about 5am. Nobody could possibly have heard us. Sue and Pete slept on the settee - snoring contentedly - until I had the foresight to awaken them after 3. Poor Pete dashed off home. He's working at 7.30am.

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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.

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Thursday July 24, 1975

As far as mechanical objects are concerned I am a complete and utter failure. You may recall that when I last borrowed an umberella (Dave B's) I had the misfortune to render it useless in Guiseley Railway Station when it jammed just as my train was approaching. Well, I suppose you are asking 'why bring this up?' and 'what's it got to do with us?', &c. Well, I'll tell you. When I arrived home at 1am this morning from Carole's I found that her Dad's umberella, which she had kindly lent me, and jammed in the up position and no persuasion of any kind would make it close up. Had I been on the platform of one of the many our great British railway stations I would have had to smash it to pieces with my bare hands, but because I was at home I took relief in the knowledge that it would come to no harm on the garage floor. And it's out there even now, 24 hours later. Not even John can do anything for it. Poor Mr Phillips isn't going to be happy when he finds out.

In her capacity as Mistress of the Robes, Sarah accompanied me to town for a trouser purchasing session. I managed to get a pair costing £9.90, which is the most I've ever forked out for trousers. We took an extra half hour for lunch and managed to fit one in the Generation Bar. I was livid and drained of all patience by the imbecility of the bar staff and I nearly died of thirst too. Efficiency is a must behind a bar, and that wench certainly had none.

I actually rang Denny this afternoon to see if we really need typhoid jabs - her being a travel agent I thought she'd have been notified. She said it didn't matter either way really, and something about it (the jab) taking four weeks to get into the blood! I ask her to come on Saturday night, and it all seemed like old times again.

Home at 6 and Carole rings an hour later to see if I want to go for a meal with the Macdonalds and John and herself tomorrow. I think 'Oh sod the expense' and say yes. She goes away for two weeks at the weekend, and I', still hell bent on retaining my absolute freedom. I must, I bloody well must.

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