20090606
Sunday March 17, 1974
3rd in Lent. St Patrick's Day. Out of bed at 12.30 - which is really 11.30 because we altered the clocks at 2am. Truly pathetic. Why should we always be messing about with the precious time I don't know. It seems so wasteful. I've been robbed of an hour.
Nothing much happens today - only the horrid political situation. Mr Heath and Uncle Jeremy all planning to destroy old Wilson tomorrow, and the tv people are getting excited about the possibilities of a constitutional 'nasty'. All the news bulletins are saying the same thing. What will the Queen do with Mr Wilson? Will she send for all the party leaders and let them fight it out at the palace? Quite tiresome really. Anyway, Her Majesty is far away from Buckingham Palace at this moment in time. Indonesia actually. No doubt she'll have to fly back from the clammy temperatures of wherever she is to pat little Harold on the head and say: 'Now then, what's all this then?'
Billy Don't be a Hero by Paper Lace.
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Nothing much happens today - only the horrid political situation. Mr Heath and Uncle Jeremy all planning to destroy old Wilson tomorrow, and the tv people are getting excited about the possibilities of a constitutional 'nasty'. All the news bulletins are saying the same thing. What will the Queen do with Mr Wilson? Will she send for all the party leaders and let them fight it out at the palace? Quite tiresome really. Anyway, Her Majesty is far away from Buckingham Palace at this moment in time. Indonesia actually. No doubt she'll have to fly back from the clammy temperatures of wherever she is to pat little Harold on the head and say: 'Now then, what's all this then?'
Billy Don't be a Hero by Paper Lace.
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Saturday March 16, 1974
Grandfather John Wilson born 1890. Very quiet Saturday really. Awake at 9.30 when I should have been at work at 9 o'clock. Give the YP a ring and Anne laughs at my plight. Arrive in Leeds at 10 o'clock and do all my work by 12. Home exhausted at nearly 1. Do absolutely nothing until evening.
Up to the Emmotts at 8. Peter Mather and Chris, not forgetting Andy - and not one female. Haven't seen Christine W for weeks. Peter is in high spirits and poor Chris is the the butt of his sharp, sarcastic humour. We all go on to the Malt Shovel at Menston where it is unbearably hot and smoky - we all leave after only a few beers and Andy makes up his mind he wants fish and chips from Harry Ramsden's - we all go. I loathe the ruddy place and prepare to make a quick exit, but John had to have his fun unscrewing the salt shaker - so that poor, innocdent Chris ended up with a ton of salt on his scrappy chips - terrible they were as well - 22p. We all deide to call it any early night and Pete drops me and J at home.
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Up to the Emmotts at 8. Peter Mather and Chris, not forgetting Andy - and not one female. Haven't seen Christine W for weeks. Peter is in high spirits and poor Chris is the the butt of his sharp, sarcastic humour. We all go on to the Malt Shovel at Menston where it is unbearably hot and smoky - we all leave after only a few beers and Andy makes up his mind he wants fish and chips from Harry Ramsden's - we all go. I loathe the ruddy place and prepare to make a quick exit, but John had to have his fun unscrewing the salt shaker - so that poor, innocdent Chris ended up with a ton of salt on his scrappy chips - terrible they were as well - 22p. We all deide to call it any early night and Pete drops me and J at home.
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Friday March 15, 1974
My half-day again. At 12 I leave Leeds for Rawdon where I intend to entertain Christine, who celebrates her 18th birthday tomorrow. I sat on the upper deck of the 33 laughing to myself at the thought of Christine's face when she sees the hideous present I've got for her. But still, not many people receive whales for 18th birthday presents. Arrive at BP at 12.30. Give Christine her whale at 12.45 - she quite likes it - much to everyones amusement. How I managed to last out in that horrid place I will never know. Left at 1.30 just in time to get the 55 bus. Home in 30 minutes.
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Tuesday March 12, 1974
The Queen opened Parliament today in a most unusual way. No robes, crowns or regalia of any sort. Not even the coach and horses. It's the first time since the war that the opening has taken place without pomp. Her Majesty wore the same outfit which she bedecked herself in at the Royal Wedding in November. Crowds on the Mall. No doubt Mr Wilson wanted a very quiet affair - most odd to say the least. Anyway, the infernal government were unable to do everything they promised in the manifesto___.All that nationalistation is out as well - phew!
We almost have no private companies left, and we all know how state owned companies manage, don't we? Precisely, they don't manage at all.
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We almost have no private companies left, and we all know how state owned companies manage, don't we? Precisely, they don't manage at all.
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Monday March 11, 1974
I apologise for the erratic flow and the gaps in my entries but I don't feel like writing anything.
Sunday March 10, 1974
2nd in Lent. Edward VII married Alexandra, 1863. Prince Edward born 1964. Wake up at 8.20 on the sofa in the dining quarters of a strange house. The mother of my host thrusts a weak, milky coffee onto my lap and laughs at my apparent lack of awareness of time, place, month or year. Vic piles me into a car and at 8.45 and I am standing in the bleak bus station at Ilkley. One of Andy's pals joins me on a 63 and I stagger home to be in time for breakfast. Mum thinks I am mad and Dad simply laughs at my obvious vitality.
'Jealous Mind' Alvin Stardust.
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'Jealous Mind' Alvin Stardust.
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Saturday March 9, 1974
A wild party this evening in Burley-in-Wharfedale. One of Andy's acquaintances, Vic, celebrated a birthday or something, and I stayed all night. John, Chris, Andy and Pete went to the Cow and Calf and then went home. I was intolerably drunk, the first time since Christmas, and made many friends, all trying to find a cure for my hiccoughs which ruined the evening (if that is what you can call 3am). The last thing I can remember was collapsing onto a sofa at about 3.30. Vic's mother is a nurse, with a great sense of humour, and when I regained consciousness at 8.20am on March 10 I imagined for a fleeting moment that I was in hospital due to the fact that the dear was still in her uniform, with black tights as well!
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