Saturday July 26, 1975

I didn't really have enough space yesterday to go into any more detail about 'George's' party. At one stage 'George' and I got carried away and we fell on the band, but all in all we returned without any injury. After the meal we came back to the Macdonald's for a few more drinks - champagne and cigars - and we staggered off home, or perhaps I should say we drove off home, and staggered up to bed.

Six or seven hours later we were out of bed and waving bye bye to Mum and Dad, who are going down to Ruby and Arthur's in Norfolk. Mum wasn't too pleased about me having a party tonight but Lynn used her charm and convinced her that all will be well. However, I was feeling terrible. A hot bath, which normally clears hangovers for me, didn't do so, and I thought the end had come.

'George' and Carole came round at 11am and I insisted on playing Rachmaninov's 2nd piano concerto and lying quite still on the settee. Carole isn't my type at all really and I don't see how we've managed to keep up the pretence for so long. She leaves at 12 and I won't see her until the end of August. Dave B managed to deflate her umberella (see foot of July 23) and I think it could be symbolic of our relationship.

The party: all went to the Hare at 8. Me in new trousers. Stayed there until about 10 o'clock. Stand with Dave L and Christine B all night. Dave is still my best pal after all these years and it's quite incredible how well we get on. The three of us come back to Pine Tops before the mob and we make a start on the drinks. All the usual come, other than Miss Carol Smith, and the only strangers were a few Durham University students who came with Ray. MM and Marita came looking like a pair of blacks and were quite jolly. Dave passed out upstairs just after 12, and the next to go was Lynn, who was violently sick, &c. Poor Christine drank vodka until it spewed out of her ears and she did nothing but cry. I took her for a walk at about 2am up on the common, and she lost her ear-rings. That didn't help matters, and it beats me how she always manages to lose expensive jewelry when she's drunk. The Braithwaite collection must have dwindled somewhat since Christine started drinking.

Al Dixon's brother, Graham, was also having a party, and Dave B, Martyn Cole, Al, and me went up for half an hour. It was completely dead and useless. On our return home I bedded down in the dining room next to a snoring Christine B, who looked like (in Dave L's words) a Japanese Mud Wrestler.

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Friday July 25, 1975

Great evening. John and I go down to the Hare at 7pm for a few drinks before going round to 'George's' for the coming onslaught. 'George' is 17 tomorrow, though you'd think she was much older. This isn't intended as an insult by any means, because I like her very much. We go to the Macdonald residence at 7.30 and meet Hugh or Hew, her brother, and his wife. The women take hours to get ready, and whilst the gentlemen are waiting we consume quite a few whiskies.

I know it's shameful, but I can't remember the name of the place in Bingley where we dined. I distinctly remember spilling a glass of red wine over the table and on Jimmy (Macdonald), 'George's' older brother, but the service was perfect and the waiters were falling over each other to clear up the mess. A trio played soft music whilst we ate, and after the meal they had a bash at a few rock 'n roll numbers. 'George' was playing the piano and Jimmy did a turn on the drums. Hilarity.

Carole, who I was supposed to partner, was incredibly dull, and didn't eat a thing, which put me off her straight away. She doesn't eat meat, fish or vegetables, and takes rellish in baked beans, and other crude substances. Is is down to her Roman Catholic upbringing? Mr Macdonald refused all offers of cash, and footed the bill himself. 12 of us: Mr and Mrs Macdonald, Hugh and his wife, Jimmy, John, 'George', Pamela Moffat, Carole and me. Sorry, I mean ten of us. Phew, it must have cost a fortune.

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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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Wednesday July 23, 1975

Another queer day. More like April. It's pissing it down and I'll not dwell on the subject any more.

Work was uneventful and Sarah wasn't feeling too well. I'm willing to bet a small fortune on the subject of Sarah attending my party on Saturday. She's been very secretive about the whole business and every time I mention it she quickly changes the subject. Who cares anyway?

Home at 5.30. Mum is having tantrums about everyone and everything again. She didn't improve much either when Lynn put her foot in it and mentioned we might be having a party on Saturday night. I cringed at the mention of it. Women! Give me a family of boys any day.

The weather is horrible and I'm not looking forward to this evening's orgy with Carole at the Hare. She is all very well, but when the Queen is on TV no competition arises. I am rotten, aren't I?

Down to the Hare with John at 8.15. See Gillian and Naomi who are back from Newquay, where they had two hours of sunshine last week. John collects 'George' and Helen comes long of her own free will. Carole arrives at 8.30. She tells me her name is Phillips. Just think, if she'd been a boy and called Mark and joined the Queen's Dragoon Guards I'd now be a friend of royalty. Back to her place, just the two of us, at 10.30 and I stayed until 12.20. Walk home in pouring rain with her Dad's umberella. Don't get too wet, and on my arrival home I devour a bowl of chicken soup with plenty of pepper on.

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Tuesday July 22, 1975

Up at 7.55 feeling grotty. Having a birthday celebration on a Monday night isn't the wisest thing to do at all really.

To Leeds with Jim as usual, and work like hell all day. Some days I feel uncommunicative and doing piles of work is an alternative to chatting up Sarah and chasing her round the office.

Feel blocked up and stifled, and not looking forward to the jab I'll be receiving later on this week. John should be collecting the stuff from the chemists tonight, and so the doctor will be giving us the needle within a few days. Ah well, I suppose it's better than coming home from holiday and dropping down dead with typhoid.

I forgot to mention it, but Chris rang on Sunday from London saying he was having an injection too. Poor sod, I think he's very lonely down there.

Home in the rain at 5.30 and have tea. Sue began working full-time today at the hairdressers where she's been part-time for years.I can imagine her with a salon of her own in a few yaesr time. Just think, all the six of us employed people now. No more schoolchildren in the clan until grandchildren start rolling in.

Carole rings at 6.30 and I say I'll see her in the Hare at 8.30 tomorrow. Also meeting Christine B tomorrow night and probably Dave L too. I have no money but don't think for one minute that I'm going to let that get in my way. No, I don't do too badly really.

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Monday July 21, 1975

Susan's 16th birthday. She gets a stack of presents and I almost died laughing at the card from Dave L. It had a bloke on a motor bike on the front with a large letter eight in the top corner! What will he come up with next? It seems like a lifetime since my 16th, and I really don't want to dwell on it.

Work was quite busy really. I was saddened to see that the only son and heir of Lord Ingleby died at the weekend. That's another title doomed to extinction.

Go to Whitelocks with Sarah and Dave B.

Home at 6 o'clock and leap into the bath. Everyone is running around all panic stricken. All ready by 7.30, and Peter comes round with a beautiful ring for Susan. That must have set the poor boy back a few bob.

Lynn, Dave, Sue, Peter, Martyn Cole, Alison, Christine D, 'George', John, Mum, Dad and me of course, all go off for that long awaited feast. Not too impressed by the place (the Coniston, Idle), and I sit flanked by John on my left and Christine D on my right. A noisy time I had too! Christine gets worse. A young bloke plays records while we eat, and afterwards we all dance. Dave takes a few photographs and we down alcoholic refreshment until 11.30. Back home for coffee, chocolates and a few more photographs. Upstairs to bed at 1am feeling whacked.

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Sunday July 20, 1975

Nice lunch. Sit in the front garden with Lynn, Dave, John and 'George' and have some revolting salmon sandwiches for tea. God only knows just what they put in those little tins. I'm 99 per cent sure it isn't fish anyway.

Finish reading 'Bertie', a novel about Albert Edward, Prince of Wales by Tyler Whittle. The book was a good deal better than David Butler's.

Listen to the radio as usual, then have Carole on the phone. She's ringing from 'George's' and she wants me to go round and see her, but I say 'no' and stick to my guns throughout. She says: 'Dave will be seeing Lynn and John will be seeing Maria. So why can't I see you?' I fail to see the connection, and leave her moping calling me a 'rotten sod' &c.

Sit with Mum through a Burt Lancaster film and then see an Italian one with sub-titles. Come to bed at about 12.30 feeling miserable again. Where is that happy, smiling lad that was Michael Rhodes? Sad, isn't it?

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Saturday July 19, 1975

Mess about round the house all day. Pay out some money to Lynn, who is going into town with 'George' and Caroline on a shopping expedition. No doubt they'll return laden with gifts for Susan's 16th birthday. We're all, that is 12 of us, going to the Coniston at Idle for a meal on Monday, and I expect it will be an intoxicating affair...in more ways than one.

John and 'George' are having a quiet Saturday night again, and Chris isn't coming home this weekend, so I expect a very quiet evening. Go to the Hare with Dave L. Meet Pete M, Christine D, Helen and Caroline, who looks sexy. I'm having doubts about whether I should remain cool towards her. I was ecstatic to hear she's going on holiday next weekend for two weeks. So Sarah can come to the party and we'll have no clashes. Move on to the Westbourne which is grotty, and then to the Ring 'O Bells, also in Otley. A wet night, and David goes home at 11, leaving the remaining five of us with little else to do but go to the 'Pernod Night' at the Cow & Calf. We all had a free pernod and a few other drinks and left at 2am. Had heart to heart talk with Carole in the back of Peter's van but she takes nothing in.


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Friday July 18, 1975

Wet day. Lounge around in bed until 11.30 because I'm working at the YP tonight. Fridays are horrid at work, but at least I'll save myself a bit of money. Under normal circumstances I spend £3 or £4 on a Friday night.

Have lunch at 12.30 and Mum gets on at John and I about getting innoculated against typhoid, which is spreading like wildfire in Majorca at the moment. Several cases have been reported in Britain recently, but we haven't been notified by our travel agent who should surely warn clients about pestilence & disease. John is terrified at the thought of being 'jabbed', and he wants me to ring Denise first to see if we really do need one. I ring at 2.10 and she isn't in either at Smiths or at home. I'll have to contact her at the weekend.

Sarah rings me at 2.30 to say they've got some booze at work and wants to know whether I'd like to come early to join in. I get to the YP for 3.45. Have a drink with the girls until 5pm, then start work. Quite uneventful really, though Kathleen was cheerful and greatly improved.

Anne Simpson leaves tonight, and at 11pm as I was leaving for my bus I bumped into her and we had a chat. Iv'e never quite liked her, but she thanked me for all I'd done for her, and I modestly replied it wasn't much, at which she replied 'nonsense, you've been a great help'. Good Old Anne! Home on the 11 o'clock 33 bus. Warm night. Get in before 12. See the end of a horror film and leap into bed for 2am.

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Thursday July 17, 1975

Another wet and humid day. Busy at work, though I can say Kathleen's been much more cheerful since her holiday.

Sarah and I went into town at lunchtime and I bought a pair of clogs for £6.99. When I got them home only Lynn seemed to like them, and Mum wasn't very talkative at all really. I don't know what is the matter with her lately, because one day she's a bundle of happiness and others she can be nasty and uncooperative and spiteful. Is it her age perhaps? I always thought that women didn't change, as it were, until they were 45 or 50 or so. However, I'm no authority on it.

Sarah bought a pair of knee-length socks and a pair of plimpsolls. We had a quick one in Whitelocks before returning to the grindstone. A wonderous thing that girl is.

At 8.45 tonight Dad drove me down to the Hare for my appointment with Caroline. I don't think anything about her at all, and was quite repulsed by her when she hooted with laughter tinged with mockery at the fact that I'd failed my driving test twice. Admittedly, she's quite attractive, but beauty is only skin deep. After standing with Caroline for ten minutes I spy Judith R with Kathryn. They stand with us until 10.30 along with Jimmy Elkington and a drunken Jehovah's Witness. Caroline won't let me buy her a drink, and we don't speak. I go back to Judith's for a coffee and chat with her and Kathryn until 1.30. Walk home, and it was quite fine.

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Wednesday July 16, 1975

John rocketed into the upper classes at 6.30 this evening when he became the proud owner of a 1970 J registered Triumph Spitfire - a white convertable one. I'm not jealous really because it's not a thing which comes easily to me. (This is supposed to be funny).

At 11.30 this morning Eileen answered the phone and spoke to Fanny Cradock, the deep-voiced lady who cooks on the telly. She asked if she could come in and look at a 1914 file of Yorkshire Posts. Obviously, Eileen said yes, and ten minutes later Fanny was in the library shaking my hand and thanking me for finding the 1914 file for her. She was quite nice really, and not a bit like the bitch you think she is on TV.

John took me to the Hare in the Spitfire at 8, and Caroline, Maria's pal, more or less picked me up. I told her a lie and said I was going out with someone from work, at which she made the classic reply: 'I don't care. It's you I want. I don't mind sharing.' How could I refuse her after that? I find her sexy and sensual, &c, but she's a bitch and she'd like to think I will be crawling after her professing my love.However, I'm determined not to be captivated this time. I said I'd meet her tomorrow, and I'll regret it no doubt.

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