Wednesday January 11, 1978

Snow, gales and blizzards today. Went to the YP feeling peculiarly industrious and worked without a lunch break until 4:30. Marita brought me to Rawdon which was a help. I ate like a horse on getting home and felt bloated and uncomfortable afterwards.

More 'gush' in the morning papers about Prince Andrew and his 'sweetheart'. Editors throughout the kingdom must have tired of the firemen's strike and the prime minister's visit to India because front page news for a royal prince is quite rare these days.

Ernest Bishop: assassinated.

Reading 'The Scarlet Pimpernel' by that baroness. I really should have read this at 14 or 15 but in those days - Oh how far they seem off now - I was into the heavy volumes of reminiscences of lofty 18th century geezers and had no time for childish fiction.

A play starring Hugh Lloyd on BBC2 caught my attention. This was followed by Deborah Kerr in 'The Prisoner of Zenda', Oh and the assassination of Ernest Bishop on 'Coronation Street' shook the entire nation. The Queen has sent a personal message of sympathy to the surviving cast.

I intended having a bath but by midnight I was no nearer my watery end and I sat listening to the roar of a 70 mph gale on Hawksworth Lane. The late TV news featured our seasonal weather as the main item of information and Mama quivered from head to foot. My God! If we can't have a spot of nasty weather in January when can we? What do they down at the meteorological office expect? A bloody heatwave or something? A sandstorm or a drought? Weather, and talking about it, is the British disease.

-=-

Monday January 9, 1978

New Moon 04.00

Windy, wet, but bright. No news of my future in the YTV world, but I didn't really expect any communication so early. Bored to death at the YP - they got on my nerves today, even Sarah. Mind you, Sarah and I regularly have our differences of opinion which don't come to much. After all the girl is a Scorpio and I am Aries, so what do you expect?

Lynn and Dave have bought (I think) a home at 7, Lawn Road, Burley in Wharfedale. It cost £8,200 or something in that region. Lynn is over the Moon about it, but she says it needs about £1,000 spending on it by way of repairs and general improvements. My little sister purchasing property! Won't things be quiet when September rolls up? Lynn makes one Hell of a racket at home and I fear the house will be like a cathedral without her. Lawn Road is a stone's throw from cousin Dorothy's ale house at the White Horse.

Dave G phoned. They may be over on Saturday from Stockport, but I shudder at the very thought because I have no money. It may mean me attacking the funds in the Lynn and David honeymoon kitty in order to make ends meet. Oh God, where am I going to get the money for a deposit for the holiday? Sod it.

-=-

Thursday December 29, 1977

_.I have applied for a job in the reference library at YTV. Yes, I put a letter together and sealed the envelope and have every intention of leaving the YP if I'm accepted. Four years is long enough in a dead end job. It's about time I joined the 'rat race' and earned lots of money. In 15 years time when I'm an OBE and making regular appearances on the Morecambe & Wise Show I bet the management at the YP will be kicking themselves.

Eric Sykes in Charley's Aunt.

Saw Eric Sykes in 'Charley's Aunt' which was good. Dom Melville, QC, came to see me. Do I have a cat in Hell's chance of obtaining damages from my assailant? Dom says he will do everything in his power to find out but bringing an assault case against the bounder (Kirk) may mean that I too could also be bound over to keep the Queen's peace. Me! And all I did was to fall over and bleed quietly! No chance. Anyway, I do have qualms about dragging it through the courts. I don't fancy being dragged in chains before Donald Best, JP, and neither do I relish the thought of reading my name in the pages of my dear newspaper. If Dom can simply frighten the yob to death I shall be eternally happy. Dom says he will go see Kirk on Sunday night, and so he'll be quaking for New Year.

Watched a ghost story and went, laughing, to bed.

-=-

Friday December 23, 1977

_.Roaring drunk all day with consequences nauseating and dire.Please do not read on if you are of a weak or delicate nature. At the YP we sank a bottle of gin before going over to the pub - the Central - and whilst having Christmas drinks in this ancient pub I am sorry to say my mind disintegrated. Everything became blurred and warped. I managed to get a bus at about 3 and at home I fell off a chair several times whilst attempting to stick balloons to the ceiling for my irate Mama.

From home I went with dear Dave L, Sue, Pete N, Chris, Pete M, Steve Hudson and a scattering of Pete N's pals to the Fox. I remember nothing. Evidently I was drinking Tequila and orange.

Junction, Otley.

I am told that Dave left for home at about 10 and we moved on to the Junction in Otley - of all places - where a breach of the Queen's peace occurred and possibly a case of Grievous Bodily Harm. Whilst making my exit from the said tavern I was, allegedly, set upon by one ANTONY KIRK, of Otley, who assaulted me in the face, my nose, mouth, &c. Supposedly I accosted his tart (she is from Otley and so she must be one), but dear Sue and Pete insist that on leaving the pub I did nothing to provoke an onslaught upon my person. The lad just landed one on me for no apparent reason.

My body was borne in great mourning to Peter (Nason's) where my wounds were dressed and a Mass was said. On my arrival home, it is said, Mama went hysterical and I sat drunk, quietly bleeding.

-=-

Friday December 9, 1977

_.Sunny day. I ventured out of doors for the first time in over a week. Went to Leeds at 12 to collect my meagre £28. Disgusting for 1977, isn't it? Jim Callaghan should be flogged. Spent £30 in just over an hour. Christmas presents are the main drain on my finances. Bought John and Maria a picture; Lynn and Dave a set of kitchen weighing scales (Oh my Lord) amongst other things. Saw Marilyn, but otherwise my expedition passed by uneventfully. I also bought three records.

Home at 3. Ernest came to tea and Mum and I entertained him to drinks. He told me several hilarious lewd tales of his experiences in Crete during the war. Stories of lust and prostitution, &c. We both became quite pissed. Dear Mama took no part in this sordid orgy. At 5 she nipped out to see Dr Mellor (just a check up).

The Queen's

I phoned the LGI at tea time and they said Carole had just left. Thank God for that. However, is it just a Christmas break? The New Year will reveal all no doubt. It was wonderful to hear her. She was so overjoyed at getting out. Where do we go from here?

Phoned Peter Mather. We went to the Fox at 8:00pm. Joined by Tony and Martyn at 9:30. ______. From the Fox we went to the Queen's on Apperley Lane. Quite dead, as far as I can recall, and then onto Oakwood. I became abominably intoxicated and remember very little. I do recall coming out in the rain at 2:00am and devouring an Indian curry.

-=-

Monday November 28, 1977

Eileen is still in hospital. Sarah is off sick. It's Kathleen's day off, and so only Carol J and I in the office. Not such a hectic day though and we refuse to panic and let the bastards get on top of us.

My unhealthy Barclaycard statement.

Jack Heath, who died on Tuesday, was cremated today. Most people went from the office just to get off work. ______.

Carole PHONED ME  this morning in marvellous spirits. It was wonderful to hear her sweet voice on the blower. I promise to call in and see her at 2:30. She looked like her mother today. Her face was round, which she put down to the steroids that they are pumping into her each day. She is very much back to normal though and because of this her mother was half as attentive. In fact the old girl disappeared onto another ward with a mug of cocoa to visit a less fortunate patient. I asked Carole where she plans on taking me when she gets out. It triggered off the usual story about why our relationship fell down in July. She seems to think it was all my fault and we had a whispered quarrel, not wishing to have a full argument whilst she's laid up hospitalised. My God she must be improving if she can oppose everything I say! Great, isn't it? I didn't mention __________whom I'm sure is the 'nigger in the wood pile' regarding Carole and I.

I left at 3:15 say I will see her tomorrow. She doesn't allow me to give her a parting kiss on the lips because she doesn't want me going back to the YP smothered in lipstick.

Edith's aunt has died in Luton and Mum and Dad are taking the Blackwells down tomorrow for a couple of days to sort out the estate. The old dear was 87 and died suddenly the other night in her sleep. Not a nice way to go. I'd like just a tiny, little warning, I think. No long, painful illness but a gentle reminder that my time is up.

Watched a Western on the BBC and played Patience. The family sat startled as I shuffled a deck of cards.

-=-

Tuesday November 8, 1977

Quite a good day at the YP. A new journalist, John Longman, came into the library and I spent the day with him showing him the ropes. He seems quite a decent sort really.

Kathleen was in a strangely pleasant and unruffled mood. Is her sailor boyfriend in harbour at the moment, one wonders?

Princess Anne: married stableboy.

Read in the papers that Princess Anne is going to be delivered of the young Mr Phillips in hospital, probably the King Edward VII Hospital for Officers. So very sad and a horrid departure from tradition. Young Lord Ulster and Lord Nicholas Windsor were hospital born but no other royals so near the Throne have been. Ah well, I suppose somebody somewhere will call it the march of progress.

I heard, with horror and nausea, Kenneth Kendal announce on the nine o'clock news, that Princess Anne's child will not receive a title of any kind and will be known simply as Master or Miss Phillips. Born in a common hospital, and without a title! What a let down. My God, 'Private Eye' was right when it said, two or three years ago, that Gt Britain's decline could be traced to the sad day when Princess Anne married her stableboy. As the years go by I rely more and more on the deliberations of that knowledgeable organ, 'the Eye'.

Mum and Dad went to the Cow & Calf with John and Maria at 8.30 and did not return until almost 1am. ____. Afterwards they took refreshment at 69, Silverdale Drive. ______.

-=-

Monday November 7, 1977

Sarah's 25th birthday. Her Silver Jubilee in fact. Not a thrilling day by any means and Sarah isn't in ecstasy at the thought of attaining her quarter century. With Eileen we went to Da Mario's on the Headrow at 1pm for a celebration nosh. Joined by Bev and Marilyn Wheeler. ___________.

Vivien Heilbron.

Back to the YP bloated and tired at 2.30. I told Sarah I would not formally recognise her jubilee until Thursday when we go to the Playhouse to see Vivien Heilbron in 'Twelfth Night'. Afterwards we shall have to let ourselves go. She does me a lot of good does Sarah Elizabeth. To paraphrase Bagehot she's a 'soothing influence on a dark and restless age'.

Tonight John came up to plan a night out with with Mum and Dad and Maria at a place of Mum and Dad's choice. They decide upon the Cow & Calf tomorrow night. _______.

-=-

Monday October 17, 1977

More bloody fog. It was so thick this morning that Jim drove straight passed me in his rotten car completely ignorant of my presence on the lane. It's ideal weather for committing murder in fact. (Please don't ask me why I should be thinking of murder first thing on a lousy, wet morning).

The YP was horribly busy. The whole day was reminiscent of a typical day in the English Civil War, the Battle of Newark, or something like that. Not exactly a Ypres or Waterloo, but close.

Rene Levesque ....

Sarah was pleasant. We are not 'squashing' this week because she's going to the opera (Welsh National Opera, I think) with John McMurray. No comment on this.

On the brighter side of things I'm sure you'll be gladdened to learn that Her Majesty the Queen is in Canada making some attempt to keep that nation united. Quebec is Canada's answer to Ireland and just because they would like to speak French instead of English they are, under a man named Levesque, seeking to break away as an independent country.

Just had a bath tonight and watched an ancient Bing Crosby film on BBC2 which was corny but quite good really. No one can complain about good old Bing, I'm sure.

Lynn and Dave went to see George and Jane Waite and they returned with a weird tale _______________.


-=-

Wednesday October 12, 1977

Dad was on Radio Leeds at 7.45 this morning (live) and throughout the Empire many millions of his followers sat grouped around tiny wireless sets to listen to his words of wisdom. I suppose you could liken him to Neville Chamberlain really.

PC 1656.

I went to Leeds with him and was in the office by 7.20. Bloody hell it was still dark. Mind you, I suppose that is how my forefathers started the working day.

I phoned Mum before lunch and she played a tape recording of dear Papa's speech down the receiver to me. He sounded quite good.

Did nothing but watch television this evening. Saw Penelope Keith and Richard Briers in Part II of 'The Norman Conquests'. Miss Keith ought to be made a Dame at the earliest opportunity because she's of the Edith Evans ilk without a doubt.

Dame Penelope?

To bed after 11 with 'The Count of Monte Cristo'. Dumas is excellent and I think I will have to tackle 'The Three Musketeers' series next. It seems quite ridiculous, doesn't it?

I must keep an eye on The Times and indeed the dear YP for signs of my brilliant letter. I do hope it will be published because they will be among the first organs to complain when Master/Miss Phillips is romping around on Her Majesty's knee without even a humble 'Honourable' prefixed before his/her name.

(By the way - I'm willing to bet you anything that the infant royal baby will be MALE. The last occasion in that august family when the first-born child was a daughter occurred on April 21, 1926, and that child is now the Queen).

-=-

Friday September 23, 1977

Eileen showed me an article in that glorious relic 'Woman's Own' which I found hilarious. It states that the Royal Family is becoming far too large, the biggest one in fact since Victoria's day. Laugh at the thought that by the year 2000 the south of England will be overrun by minute Queen Mothers, devouring and devastating crops and making a general nuisance of themselves. _______.

Royal Family: too large.

Burdened with a ghastly hangover today. I'm home completely shattered at the usual hour and spend the time until 9 o'clock readying myself for Angela (Singer's) party. Jacqui phoned at 9.15 and by 10.15 we were teamed up outside the Yorkshire Post and we made our way to Headingley.

I loathe going to parties stone cold sober, but I soon remedied that. It was rewarding watching bleary eyed journalists eyeing up Jacqui and Joy. Peter Fearon attempted to woo Joy with his Fleet Street routine which failed brilliantly. She then went off to dance with a Daily Express man. I became quite drunk.

Carol Johnson and Roger Ratcliffe arrived at the same time, but not together. The girls thoroughly enjoyed themselves and were very sociable. Did I do a tango with Brenda Rankin? I hope not.

Joy brought me home and I foolishly had them in for coffee, giggles and screams, slamming doors and other loud robust noises. Naturally, Mama was awakened by the commotion but made no assault on us downstairs, luckily. They set off back for the depths of Roundhay at some unbelievable hour and I departed to my chambers for a few hours shut-eye. A very pleasant party. Angela Singer deserves to be the first woman editor of a national newspaper.

-=-

Thursday September 15, 1977

Good old Lynn and David, eh? I am so relieved that they have stuck it out to the bitter end like this. I cannot wish for a better brother-in-law than David, and I told him so at lunchtime when we went to the Boar's Head, a new pub near the Bond Street development. He was feeling rough after last night and only managed one, solitary pint, but I managed to put away a couple. He could not understand why he felt so nervous approaching Mum and Dad because he knows them so well. I tell him how good and considerate it was of them to give the family prior notice of the engagement. I don't think Mum and Dad would have wanted them just to walk in with a ring.

Dave & Lynn.

I left Dave at about 1.15 and staggered back to the YP. Work was ghastly. I'm not discussing it, anyway. How can I talk about work when my beautiful sister is about to embark on the biggest step down life's pathway? That innocent little child on whom I've showered my brotherly affection for almost 20 years is going to be married, with all the responsibilities appertaining thereto, BEFORE ME! Am I neglecting my duty as an older brother? Should I set a shining example to my younger kin by taking a bride in hand? Is it right and proper for a 22 year-old male, and a healthy one I hope, to be set permanently in the wicked ways of bachelorhood? How long will it be before the whispering begins? You know the sort of thing I'm getting at: "Hey Doris, did you see Michael Rhodes in his pink socks?" And: "Isn't it queer, Doris, how he's always behind the bicycle sheds with his boy scouts?" &c. No doubt about it. If I'm still unattached by my 25th birthday I'll be branded homosexual for sure. Who knows though? The visit of Jacqui a week on Friday may trigger another romance that will outshine the one with the late Miss Mather, or even Carole. We'll see anyway.

-=-

Monday September 12, 1977

A ghastly day. Staggered to work feeling like Anne Boleyn must have felt after her tragic loss. Lady Jane Grey too, and Lord Haw Haw. Yes, my head was far from well. Abominable is a far too mild an adjective to use. By 12 noon I was moaning, yawning and close to tears. I phoned Tony who was also very close to death. I informed him that I could stand no more and on putting down the receiver I lost consciousness and fell crashing to the floor from my desk. Some amiable editor must have carried me from the building and placed me on an omnibus because I regained consciousness somewhere in the Guiseley area at about 1pm.

Luncheon was also a great strain and afterwards I fell from the table and into bed. You'll be pleased to know that by tea time I was more or less back to normal. Oh what a time. As I grow older my hangovers get steadily worse. By the time I'm 25 I shall be paying regular visits to one of those rehabilitation centres. You may laugh, but it's true.

Autumn: nationalised?

Some of that famous glint came back to my sad old eyes at 7.30 when 'Coronation Street' came on the television. It's programmes like this that make life so well worth living, folks.

Nothing much more to say, playmates. Have you enjoyed reading this page? Good. September is always such a nice month, don't you think? Or have the authorities in your era scrapped the old months system? Well, it wouldn't surprise me if they have nationalised autumn.

-=-

Wednesday August 31, 1977

Sir Kenneth's wedding ....

The chairman of the Yorkshire Post's only claim to fame is that, in a moment of cunning calculation, on the morning of October 2, 1937, he did take as his bride, the Honourable Miss Dorothy Lane Fox, third daughter of the 1st (and last) Baron Bingley. Nice one, Kenneth.

-=-

Tuesday August 30, 1977

Our managing director is a lunatic. Just watching him sitting behind his desk makes one wonder how he ever rose to such a position. I am sure that the fact that Mr Linacre is the holder of the Distinguished Flying Cross has a lot to do with it. The DFC is essential for newspaper management.

-=-

Friday August 12, 1977

A good day. Eileen and I met Tony outside the YP at about 1pm and we had three or four drinks in the Central. Tony came back to the YP for the afternoon and had Carol J swooning all over him. In fact she did no work from when he arrived, sat, quite besotted, on her desk, with her legs rubbing up against his. It was bloody painful. Eileen was becoming quite violent about it and if I hadn't made the tea a full scale war could easily have broken out. Tony went off to a dental appointment at about 4. ________.

Tonight: Tony, Martyn and Stuart came up at 8.30 followed by Peter M and Chris. Sue, Pete N and Janet Simon joined us and we went to the Bod. Michelle, Toni and a girl called Mary came in. Mary was so fanciable you just wouldn't believe it. She was quite tanked up.

From the Bod most of us went to Il Trovatore. I was with Mary all night and it proved to be one of the most successful in ages. We got on like a house on fire. The only thing is that she has a ruddy boyfriend stashed away somewhere.  So attractive too. I told her she looked like the singer Dana, but she said Vera Lynn was closer to the mark.

Back to Tony's at 2am, and the ladies brought me home at something like 4 o'clock. A diabolical time. Don't know what sort of reception I'll get if I see Mary again but one thing's for sure folks - Michael's in love again.



-=-

Thursday August 11, 1977

A hot day. Sat in the garden with Mum and Susan until lunchtime and had the occasional lager. Just like been on holiday again. The temperature was in the 70s when I set off to Leeds at 4pm and if there's anything I feel least like doing on a hot, summers afternoon, it's work. However, it's inevitable for plebeians such as I.

Just me and Wendy at the YP until I left at 11.

Grouse: family reunion?

Hundreds of thousands of grouse will be having family reunions in the moorland heather tonight no doubt reminiscing on past escapades together and chanting the occasional prayer. Some of them will weep, or at least do the grouse equivalent, which is, I think, when they bash their wings together whilst frantically squeaking. Yes, tomorrow is the Glorious Twelfth.

Home in a taxi with a witty driver who, on parting,  bid me "Goodnight and God Bless". Who the hell does he think he is? The Pope I suppose.

Made a couple of salad sandwiches and retired to my chamber not particularly knackered. I've been a good deal worse.





-=-

Sunday July 31, 1977

Delia Collis.

8th after Trinity. Luncheon party at Sarah's. I went at about 1 o'clock. A hot afternoon with wine, and plenty of it. Delia's food was wonderful as usual. Haddock flan, pizza pie, salmon mousse, cheesecake, &c. Delia is a marvellous woman. She knows I'm a good friend to Sarah. She says we have so much in common. I have always thought so. Sarah must think the same. Saw the new shih tzu dog, Sophie. Delia had wanted to call it Daisy May.

Went for a dip in Richard's swimming pool next door and John MacMurray ferried me to the YP at 5. Coming home the taxi was late. Didn't get in until nearly 1am.

-=-

Wednesday July 6, 1977

Even warmer.  Out of bed late and didn't get into the YP until 9.30. No one cares though and people roll in and out at all times of the day and night. Worked until 4.30 with no break and got out into the sun.

Marita brought me to Guiseley where I collected a couple of pairs of trousers from the cleaners and winded my way home through the heat. Sat in the garden with Susan. She tells me Peter doesn't want to marry until he's 26 because he wants a better car in a few years time and cannot afford to do both. We discuss the names of future children. Jason Nason! Really zany is Susan.

We sat and laughed until the sun sank behind the Rawnsley residence. Susan was covered in goose pimples.

Community constable ....

Watched TV until about 10.30. Tony phoned and I told him Carole and I were going out tomorrow. He suggests Carole and I should get to the bottom of things. Quite right, Tony lad.

Poor Mr Bhutto has been chucked out of office in Pakistan and Papa made headlines in the Telegraph & Bogus as well as in the Yorkshire Evening Post tonight. Just a few paragraphs on his appointment as Community Constable. "LAURIE SOCKS IT TO 'EM" all over the front page wasn't to be unfortunately.

Seeing Dad's name in newsprint made me wonder how the relations of celebrities cope with the publicity. Does Mrs Bob Monkhouse quiver all over with excitement every time she reads Bob's name in the Radio Times?

What else can I tell you? Edward VI went to meet his maker on this day in 1553 and George V was dragged down the aisle by Princess May of Teck in 1893.

-=-

Sunday June 26, 1977

3rd after Trinity.  After watching the sun rise above Ilkley Moor I decided to go out and investigate. A cuckoo summoned me from the heather (or was it in a tree?) and I pursued the calling for several miles up hill. I went up past the College of Education and past a white-washed cottage near a babbling stream where I lay down and snoozed. After some time I staggered back to the flat with a police patrol car keeping vigilance over me. It was about 6am when I got back and Tony was up and about. He was in fact opening all the letters he'd received this week from his bank manager. It was too much for me and I went to bed.

Ilkley Moor.

We ate eggs and bacon and fried bread at about 10 and then sat around saying what fools we are and how we should know better, &c.

Tony attempted to analyse Carole once more but I feel at times like this that he's got the whole thing wrong or else I'm a lunatic. He always comes to the conclusion that I am to blame for her unstable behaviour.

Home for 11. Lunch with the family. Watched the film 'The L-Shaped Room'. Passed into a coma in the chair and don't feel remotely ready to go in to the YP.

Down the lane at 4 and in the office for 5. Wendy worked tonight too.

Home with the taxi driver who once lectured me on snakes bite remedies. Tonight we discussed the latest Leeds (Ripper) murder and capital punishment. We agreed entirely and I am seriously thinking about nominating him for a parliamentary seat at the coming autumn general election (just a guess). The Taxi Party. Ah, yes, I can see it now. For a start I'd grow a small black moustache and then I'd exterminate all the Scots.

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