Tuesday April 2, 1974

Still no message from June. Oh God! It's so frustrating. My concentration is out altogether and I cannot think of anyone or anything else. She dominates my existence.

Rush home from the YP expecting a call from her, but nothing came. Driving lesson at 6.30 - and we went all over the place - going through a massive amount of petrol. However, I did manage to handle the automobile through Bradford, reaching home safely at 7.30. A boring evening. See tv until the 9 o'clock news starts, but not wishing to extend my misery I leave the room, where I now compile my diary.

You'll have to excuse all the gaps, but I keep taking up my pen, then the urge to commit anything to paper dies before I have time to preserve my thoughts for posterity here in these papges. As I've already attempted to communicate, my mind is on other things at the moment.

Hear at about 10.15 on the tv that President Pompidou of France died tonight. Mother went round for thest of the evening saying: "I told you so", because she's apparently been watching the French President's movements for weeks, and is of the opinion that the foor devil had leukaemia or something. France is in chaos.

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Monday April 1, 1974

The morning began with a beautiful event. Whilst leaving City Station I saw June and Mrs Bottomley entering, and I managed to speak a few words to her. She was on her way to another interview at a college of education. The ethereal beauty of the Bottomley girls is quite breathtaking. June is my whole life - never do I desire to love another woman. However, she did notice that Judith R was with me, and a flicker of semi-jealous curiosity fleetingly crossed her face. I could see that quite clearly. Sadly, she doesn't ring me tonight either and I wonder whether she really wants to see me again. My one chance of hope lies with the girl who accompanied June to the Emmotts on Saturday - she kept urging me to take June's hand saying she really wanted me to take her out again, but dared not make moves in that direction herself. The chaperone thinks that I will not go out with June again because of my dignity! How very mistaken she is indeed.

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Sunday March 31, 1974

Passion Sunday. A beautiful day - the sun shining brilliantly down on a happy earth. Everyone is thrilled that I am 'going out' with June again though John simply smiles with disbelief. Last night brought me out of a misery I have endured since August 24, a hell of 218 days and nights. I never want to be separate from June ever again - we are made for one another, if you can say such a thing without appearing corny, but this is surely the case.

My mind keeps drifting back to last night at the Emmotts - she says she will go with me on Sunday, but I got her to say Saturday, and it seems as though my 19th birthday party will not be graced with her beauty and I'm quite desolate. This afternoon I thought 'Shall I write to her?' but decide that she would not wish it. After all, I wrote many letters from September till Xmas without any reply, though she says she compiled 2 letters then destroyed them. However, we shall see.

The Gadsby clan came over for tea and stayed until the early hours. Uncle Tony seems much improved on last time - no doubt the climate of recent days agrees with his constitution.


'Billy Don't be a Hero' Paper Lace.

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Saturday March 30, 1974

A glorious day - I can now live again. At approximately 10 o'clock I put my hand into the hand of an angel and my soul merged with that of hers. June is mine again, and I love her now more than ever before. I do suppose that I will die loving her. We stood in the cool night in deep embrace, discussing the events of the past 7 hell ridden months. My mind cannot settle and I am in a daze. God knows when I will see her again. She is not on the phone, but one thing is sure, I will never let her go again. My life is now made happy again...She says she will ring me. The waiting for that phone call will kill me I expect.....



(PS Aaarrgghhh!! April 18. 1974)

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Friday March 29, 1974

Busy day at the YP. Austin-Clarke is still unapproachable and Kathleen cannot see him about my pay, if that is what one can call the mere pitance which I receive at weekly intervals.

Quite a pleasant evening. We all, that is to say John, Andy, Chris and I meet in the Emmotts and then move on to the Royalty on the Chevin, a horrid little pub. From there we move to the Hare and Hounds and then the Fox and Hounds, where we see Laura (strangely disguised with a weird hairstyle) in the company of her university gentleman friend. They all join in the motorcade which winds itself to Pine Tops, where John and I are deposited on the pavement. Inside Mum and Dad watch a programme on privilege, featuring the Duke and Duchess of Bedford. A bleedin' socialist sits making snide remarks about wealth and on being asked his income, it was noted with great amusement, that he earns nearly £10,000 per annum.

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Thursday March 28, 1974

Dear Auntie Hilda today celebrates her 38th birthday. Never for one minute did I envisage that this dear old lady of Pudsey would be the life and soul of our New Year's party___.

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Wednesday March 27, 1974

Mummy is baffled about the whereabouts of her patron saint, Hilda the Fat, of Pudsey. However, all will be well. The saintly lady celebrates a birthday tomorrow and 'Mam' (as mothers are so graciously termed in the death notices in the EP) has despatched a card to the saintly abode. No doubt this act of peace will inspire St Hilda to respond to our ever louder plea: "Where are you love?"

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