Thursday May 19, 1977

Ascension Day. No diarrhoea. John, Maria and a heavy JPH came this evening and they took me down to the White Cross at 8.15 where I met Carole 15 minutes later than I said I would.

Barbara.

Scrounged a lift from Mick Blades to Ilkley and ended up with Tony and Martyn in the Rose & Crown. John and Maria joined us at 9.30. To the Star too where Barbara (Woodhead) pulled my leg about me bringing my baby brother out with me.

Carole and I were apart all night and I blame the slimline, boiler suited Maria because once they get together the consequences are drastic.

To Oakwood Hall at 11pm but only Carole and I went in. For some reason things don't get off as well as last week. We blame it on our late arrival at Oakwood. CB and Maura are in - pissed - and C tries to muck it up with Carole and I. We both smoked and behaved like old lovers. She later played 'hard to get'. On the way up in the car from the Connection I assumed that she was going to Tony's on Saturday but she blew me out by saying she was going to a barbecue tomorrow and then to Leeds on Saturday and that my next appointment would be next Thursday. My God. Her lips are delicious! She bloody knows it too.

Home by taxi at 2am. She demanded to know why I had suddenly quietened. Why? I was the one who wanted the free life and now I'm not satisfied. Sod it.

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Wednesday May 18, 1977

A good Spring day combined, sadly, with diarrhoea. A sad sentence to have to compile, but very true.

Marita brought me as far as Rawdon in her mini and when I told her I'd been out with Carole on Thursday she went into raptures saying how perfect we are together and that I haven't looked as happy since May '76.

Tonight Tony and I went out and said that I - for twelve months - had given the appearance of being thoroughly bored by the company and that my face always held a look of far-off expectation. Is all this a big publicity campaign paid for by Carole?

Tony came up at 8.30 and we bumped into Pete Lazenby on Park Road and out of courtesy we accompanied him to Guiseley Working Mens' Club. Nice, cheap lager, but oh the people. Honestly, I'm no snob and no one likes good honest people more than me but the sight of the people therein is ghastly. As though they're hating every minute - just waiting for the sirens to go off summoning then back to the factory floor.

Stone Trough

On to the Stone Trough until 10.30. A completely dead place. Even the juke plays at a whisper. Later Tony comes back home for a cup of tea and egg mayonnaise sandwiches. We discus phases one, two and three and I insist that they were started by the Heath government in 1973.

Janet Land is visiting Lynn.



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Tuesday May 17, 1977

Feel grotty all day. Stomach ache mainly, and anorexia. All the same I forced down two sandwiches and a pea and ham soup - but could easily have done without. You don't want me collapsing at work do you?

Kathleen suggested that I ought to go home early, but like King Charles I (you know, him with the ginger hair and no head) I decided to be a martyr instead.

Carole: grandmother's accident

Carole rang at 3 and we decided to go out again on Thursday, again to Oakwood (Hall). I asked whether her mother had been knocked down, the victim of a road traffic accident and she laughed saying: "Oh no...
it 's my grandmother". It seems that the old lady fell in the path of a van belonging to the Gas Board and passed a night in Otley Hospital emerging with three stitches. Carole's attitude is quite frightening and she insists that the sight of ones beloved Grandmama disappearing beneath the wheels of a bright yellow NEGAS van isn't half as horrific as it sounds. Having no living grandmother myself I can never experience such a phenomenon.

Spent an evening in front of the television. The headlines on the 9 o'clock news was the royal visit to Scotland. It's the first of the 'Jubilee tours'. The BBC must have taken leave of their senses. A royal item to be the first item on the news? Surely the first such thing to occur since the abdication Edward VIII.

Took a bath after the royal spectacular and then returned to the drawing room to find Mama reclining on a sofa sipping delicately at her glass of Guinness. No other exercise whatsoever is allowed - Dr Jacques's orders.

Sit with a mug of cocoa and decide I feel much better. My bowels have improved tremendously since tea time. I cannot help thinking that Uncle Bert might have brought a virus with him from darkest Nottingham. Dearest Uncle will get his head kicked in if I find this to be so.

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Monday May 16, 1977

Down the lane with a Spring feeling. For some reason my coiffure is standing on end reminiscent of a good old lavatory brush. Go to my hair stylist and emerge 45 minutes later having waved bye bye to about three quarters of a ton of glossy hair. No doubt the peasants have bagged it up and sold it on the Black Market for   huge sums. If they can do it with King Charles I's miserable, ginger stuff I fail to see why they can't do it with mine.

Home by 2 o'clock. Mum is flat out in bed with her back. She's in agony. Dr Jacques comes but he's more interested in my bloody cheeseburger.

Sue: reading about lice ..

Sue is revising for her hair dressing examination and is reading all about lice and other residents of the hairy regions.

Tony comes up at 3 and we go to Bradford and to (WH) Smith's. I hand over £568.28 to Michelle and I'm sure I've never held so much in my hands (that's money, you perverted fool). Accompany Tony to the Co-op where he attempts to rid himself of some of his wares and then it's back to Smith's where we meet Martyn at 4.45. M bought a new pair of shoes and I bought a large poster of the Queen, in Imperial state crown in the Throne Room at Buckingham Palace.

Martyn and Tony are playing golf at Ben Rhydding this evening. I don't want to go. Saw Spike Milligan on TV and Monty python repeats.

Mummy emerged from bed for a few hours but complained of constant pain. The doc has advised her to buy an orthopaedic bed at the earliest opportunity. Ate fish and chips and retired after 12.

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Sunday May 15, 1977

Hereward the Wake

Rogation Sunday. Up at 6.30am with the biggest hangover history has ever seen. The combined hangovers of Hereward the Wake, Edward the Confessor, Napoleon, George Bernard Shaw and Mitzi Gaynor only equal half the one I experienced this morning. Water. All I wanted was water. I would have willingly swapped my best girl for a glass of chilled H2o. Dave obliged by rushing to the bathroom and bringing me a cup full. Passed into unconsciousness and slept until about 10.30. Discuss Glenn's disappearance but we decide not to visit his residence just in case he never made it home last night. Good God. Suppose he's fallen into the Manchester Ship Canal?

Mitzi Gaynor.

Dave accidentally locked his bedroom door with the key inside and we spent half an hour trying to break in. Eventually we used a large built gent from the tap room as a battering ram. Dave and I were in the bar by 12.10 and ale was supped until 2pm. joined by Garry and another guy whose name escapes me. At 2 Dave and I take lunch in the private apartments of the Hollywood and we shared a bottle of wine (Chevalier de la Rose Grand vin De Bourgogne. Importers H. Sichel and Sons Ltd, W2). Not too bad.

Glenn called on us with his holiday money (£145) and the three of us went to the pool room for a game. Laugh myself stupid at Dave who clowns around like no one I've ever known. At 7 o'clock it's time to part. Had a word with Jim Glynn and went to the bar and bought Mrs G a drink and said farewell. The lads took me to Manchester at 7.30-ish and I was home by 10.30 with £290 in my pocket. The lads are coming on June 3 and I plan to go back to Stockport on July 9, the day before 'Operation Ibiza'.

Martyn and Tony are at Pine Tops and M gives me a blank cheque for tomorrow's pilgrimage to WH Smith and Sons. Bath and bed at approximately midnight.

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Saturday May 14, 1977

Susan wakes me at 8.30 and I leave for Leeds at about 10 o'clock.  Say farewell to Uncle Bert who is injecting some foul smelling liquid into the stub where his poor leg once reclined. Nauseating, eh?

Leave Leeds at 1055 and get into Manchester by 12.15. I walk through Manchester wearing a blue and white striped T-shirt. This may seem to be a normal thing to do, and indeed had I adorned my body with the said T-shirt in Cambridge, Milford Haven and possibly Carnarvon it would have been. Not Manchester, however. The local dominant football team are quite partial to a more crimson hue. Yes, Manchester Utd, of course. I sought refuge in a telephone box to avoid a particularly vicious looking mob. As I crouched 'neath the volumes of yellow pages my thoughts were with Queen Marie Antoinette and how she must have felt as the filthy Parisians dragged her through the streets in a rickety tumbril.

Got to Stockport and met Dave G. He informs me that my troublesome shirt is in the colours of Stockport County FC and gives me a pat on the back and takes me to the Unity for a drink. Six or seven drinks to be exact. Meet a couple of his friends - Steve (who I met last time), Garry and Billy. A sobering stroll round Stockport.  The climax of the afternoon is a coffee in a Wimpy Bar.

The Hollywood Hotel

Back to the Hollywood and meet Mr & Mrs Glynn. See the Muppets on TV. Also see Glenn.

To the Unity with with Dave G, Glenn, Garry, Steve and Billy plus two unnamed females who are lovely little movers, and one of them (Holly) fancies me, I think. Go by taxi to the Poco Club where 'The Brothers' are appearing. (The do "Sing Me" which they had in the charts). We didn't even see them anyway and got pissed in the adjoining disco. Glenn disappeared at 1am after an ice throwing contest with Dave and I as we did our usual formation dance routine. Really a hysterical evening. Dave and I back to the Hollywood at 2.30am by taxi and sleep head to toe (or arse to tit) in Dave's large bed.

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Friday May 13, 1977

I have reverted to my faithful old pen. Yes, it is Friday the Thirteenth. Pouring with rain when Mama wakes me at 10 o'clock to say she's been into the office but has returned because she feels unwell. She keeps dashing to the toilet - urine problem. She's wearing a path from her boudoir to the smallest room. (I realise it's probably indelicate to discuss such things here and it's quite abominable of me to record it for posterity, but I haven't much else to say).

Uncle Bert: diarrhoea

Walk into Guiseley with umberella and collect medicine for Motherdear and pay a social call on the Guiseley branch of the West Yorkshire Police force. Also went to the bank for £30 which boosts my holiday money up to £100.

Make lunch for Dad and I and Mum announces that Uncle Bert is coming tonight for the weekend. I don't believe I've seen him since Christmas 1973. Of course he's had a leg off since then and his other one isn't all that good. Oh My God, he's on a dismal decline at only 50.

Dad and I go to Leeds at 6 o'clock and pick up Uncle (Bert) at Quarry Hill flats for some reason. He is unrecognisable. Old isn't the word. I almost die laughing when Dad asks him how he is. "I have had diarrhoea" comes the reply, "and so on Wednesday I decided to take a couple of days off in lieu". No one but me found it funny.

Chris and Pete came at 8.30 and stood on the drive admiring John's new car. I am alarmed that Peter can pretend that Tuesday's conversation never took place. I am extremely cool with him ____________.

Tony and Martyn come and we go to the Bod and the Hare and Hounds at Heaton. Michelle and Co join us. I like Michelle immensely - so sweet and nice. In the Bod I told Pete to 'piss off'._________.

With Tony and Martyn to the Il Trovatore. Thoroughly boring.

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Thursday May 12, 1977

Met Carole at 7.30 at the White Cross and we got an omnibus to Bradford. The new bus station is like Versailles. All carpeted with piped music, and chandeliers hanging like great foxgloves from the ornate ceilings. In fact it looks as if Bradford City Council have had some help from Rubens or Van Dyck.

Carole is strangely quiet. We laugh at the fact we have to return to Shipley to go on to Bingley and the realisation that the visit to Bradford's 'Hall of Mirrors' could have been avoided is like a blow on the head with a mallet.

In Bingley for 9 o'clock. After a few drinks we walked to Oakwood Hall for 10.15. Peter N was in with his friends again. Carole and I had a good talk about the past year. (Oh shit, the ink is going all the way through the bloody paper for some reason). We decided that we are getting on better this time round. Home in another taxi at 2am. The taxi driver smoked a large cigar and sounded like an Old Etonian. No doubt he's a poor hereditary peer who cannot afford to get down to the House of Lords.

Not seeing Carole until next Thursday. I have thoroughly enjoyed it.

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Wednesday May 11, 1977

Don't hear a bloody thing until Mum and Dad come in for lunch at 1.45pm. Sat yawning over a cup of tea and then opened my mail. Two bloody letters. One from Helen Malin which points out I owe her £1 and not vice versa. Oh shit. I said that the royal baby would be born in the spring or summer of '77 and if it arrived any later I would pay up. What a horrific thought. The other is a letter from Kathryn. It is perfection itself and I settle down to reply and before I know where I am it's 4 o'clock and time to go to the dreaded YP.

Diary: red ink works wonders

Charged down the lane and got at bus. At the office for 5. I made enquiries about coaches for Saturday returning Sunday. Peter Mather amazes me __________.

Work was busy and tiresome. Ursula is very nice to work with. I do believe I experienced an erotic dream about her the other night. Of all people. I must be daft or something. How do you like my change of handwriting? Mrs Monkman, who left number 60 yesterday, gave me the pen. I do believe her brother sent it to her from Japan. One would have thought that the Japs would have caught onto the biro by now. I still think this nice red hue works wonders. Blue ink became so depressing.

The taxi driver tonight was no leading authority in any field. If he was he didn't bring it into the conversation.

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Tuesday May 10, 1977

A normal May day for a change. Too hot even. Well, not perhaps too hot but we aren't really used to it as yet.

Headlines: the newspapers are convinced that the Prince of Wales is going to marry Princess Marie-Astrid of Luxembourg. She's at Cambridge at the moment studying English, and photographs of her walking through the city carrying a pile of text books are splattered in every national newspaper. Even the wary old Times has afforded Her Royal Highness (or is she a Serene Highness?) a slot on page seven or eight. The furore has been going on for two or three days. The princess is a fifth cousin of the Queen. It is, of course, no obstacle.

Peter: petrol problem

At about 7 I had a phone call from Chris saying he isn't going to Stockport and concluded by saying Pete M will be ringing shortly to 'tell you why he can't go either'. Sure enough Pete phoned and I was utterly dumbfounded and astonished. He accused me of only ever ringing him when I need a lift and concluded by saying I'm a 'cheeky sod'. He also made reference to our previous visit to Stockport and said he was appalled at Martyn and I for not contributing to the petrol. Christ it was five months ago and it's taken all this time to get it off his chest! I would have thought that friendship was worth a bit more than the price of a gallon of petrol but he obviously differs on this point.

Met CB at the Crown at Yeadon at 8.30. June is in with her fiance, and so is Phil Knowles, but he goes when he sees Christine. Dave, Dave, Phil and Phil are also supping, along with Maura and Marian, &c. Got quite pissed and after depositing Christine on the last bus I walked home through Yeadon and over Nunroyd park. In by 12. Mum and Dad get on my bloody nerves.

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Monday May 9, 1977

Horrible, hectic, hell of a day. Just Sarah, Eileen and I and it's jut too busy. To make matters worse Dave Bruce insulted me by saying I look three months pregnant. But I'm a man. It's obviously the combination of gallons of lager and jeans with a 30 inch waist.

Carole phoned at 3-ish. Arrange to go out on Thursday. She tells me she phoned Denise this morning and ________. Somehow I don't think outsiders should become involved because no outside aid can be given. They both know how things stand.

I phoned Dave G and said I'd be over on Saturday - just who with I don't know. Rang Chris tonight and he says he'll phone back tomorrow. I don't think he or Pete M want to go, and Martyn has a golf tournament and so I may be going freelance. Sod them anyway.

Tony rang and says he got really pissed yesterday afternoon. ________________.It's like a bloody Greek tragedy. On the subject of Greek tragedies - what about the return of Carole?  Every day I ask the same questions, none of which can be answered satisfactorily. Am I to go to my grave loveless and alone just because I cannot forget a horrible incident a year ago which I was more or less responsible for? I'm not interested in any other female and she seems to feel the same way about me. Should I forget May 1976 forever? Will it be on my conscience until the end of time?

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