Saturday February 18, 1978

Sun rises 7:10 Sun sets 17:21

Received a lengthy letter from Jacq. She finishes at the Performing Rights Society on March 31 and will be moving to Leeds shortly afterwards. Gina, her ex flat mate, is getting married at Oxford on April 22, and we are both invited to the nuptials. Jacq is a bridesmaid. I spent all day bashing out a reply on the typewriter.

Lynn, Sue and Pete went off to a flea market at Yeadon leaving Dave B laying flat in the snow underneath his car on the drive. His car failed its MOT this morning.

Dave: teaching career ends.

Steaming hot bath. Cheese on toast for tea. Dave L phoned at 6 to say he's meeting Christine Dibb in the Hare to discuss some lambs he wants to buy for school. The two of us went down at 8. The place is like a Mausoleum. Judith was in. The juke box is gone forever. Instead we have the likes of Andy Williams and the Old Groaner over the piped music system. Really painful.  Joined by Lynn, Dave, Sue and Pete at 9 and we went along to the Menston Arms in an attempt to catch the 'prawn man'. Sadly, he didn't arrive and so we moved on to the Commercial, where they sell seafood in glass jars. In fact, it was a very successful, enjoyable evening. It was good seeing David again, but he's going back on Tuesday to the depths of Gloucester. His teaching career ends in July and he wants to be a pub manager, or cinema manager, or something of that ilk. Just think, he could give his own private showing of 'As Naked as The Wind from the Sea' ~ Oh, can you imagine it?

Dave went off home at 11 and we came back to Pine Tops where a grotty Robert Mitchum film was droning away on TV. I retired to bed with 'The Scarlet Pimpernel' but fell into a coma within minutes.

It was such a good day. I am looking forward to Jacq's trek northward ~ it will break the life of monotony. After last night I have definitely decided that ________ is a psychopath. He may even be the (Yorkshire) Ripper.









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Friday February 17, 1978

Sarah.

Hangover all morning. Sarah and I went to the Highlander for a few drinks at lunchtime and it helps to clear my head nicely. We arrived back at the YP at 2:30 to a frosty reception from Kathleen. It's always the same when we leave Carol alone. She always pulls Kathleen to one side in order to blacken our characters, and K falls for it every time. Sarah went home at 4 half pissed. She and John Mac are hitting it off. She tells me she's never been out with anyone quite so calm as John. _______.

No call from Jimmy Mac this evening and so 'Operation Drop' is abandoned. I loathe that pub anyway.

Lynn phoned me at work to tell me Mum and Dad have gone to Ambleside for the weekend and won't be home until Sunday night.

At home Sue is getting ready to go out and is drinking cherry wine by the half pint. By 8 o'clock she'd sunk the whole bottle. It's good to see I'm not the only piss artist in the family. By 'going out' time David is not back from Gloucester and so I went to the Fox & Hounds with Sue and Pete. Joined by Pete M, Chris, Martyn and Tony. My boots were received with the usual wisecracks. At 10:30 I went with Sue and Pete for some food and came home. It was cold tonight. I was compelled to drink whisky.

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Thursday February 16, 1978

Still slightly snowy.  I failed to mention yesterday that Mrs Slocombe is back from _____________. This revolting gossip epitomises the whole tone of life at Yorkshire Post Newspapers Ltd, and from what I've just stated you have gathered, no doubt, that this so-called 'secret' will remain just that.  Blimey, you can rely on me never to tell a living soul, Carol, dear.  Ho, Ho, Ho.

Sarah asks if I want to join her and Marilyn in a pizza tomorrow night, but I refuse owing to my financial situation. I don't know why because I will go out tomorrow and I'll end up spending the same amount of cash.

Margaret Nason

Tonight Jim and Margaret Nason came for 'a few' drinks and to our surprise John, Maria and Jimmy Mac arrived at 11 after the pubs had closed. Maria bought Susan's 1976 bridesmaid dress for £10. I drank far too much, but everyone else seemed to be doing just the same. Dad and Jimmy had the usual great debate on education, sex, law & order, &c. &c. We took no notice of them.

My John Wayne's  (boots) were admired by all. I didn't get to bed until after 3am because I did the glasses and cleared up generally - silly sod. Even when I finally hit the sack I had to read a bit of 'El Dorado'.

Out to the Drop tomorrow (I hope) with Jimmy and Fifi. That's if he phones me, which I doubt. David is due home from Gloucester too. So, it could be a pleasant weekend.

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Wednesday February 15, 1978

Snow is still hanging about but it's going foul with effluence ~ call it what you will. Most of the pollution consists of animal excreta unfortunately. However, to escape talk of dog shit let me say Carole phoned this morning. She says she may be going back into hospital because she's plagued by headaches. But she sounded fabulous. The poor thing asked why I hadn't sent her a Valentine's card and my reply was that I didn't want to cause more chaos with her relationship with Fogarty. Sending such a token would only provoke an attack from the fiendish gentleman concerned. I told her I'd reply to her letter.

Lynn & Sue.

Christine's chat with her at Naomi's (birthday party) and Lynn telling her on Feb 4, at George and Jane's, that I "think the world of her" may have have brought on this sudden rush of affection. Never will I forget the horror and torment that I suffered when I thought she was dying.

At home I hear of a bizarre occurrence regarding the hideous ________ which Lynn destroyed last summer.

I wrote to David L (he's home on Friday ~ it's half term already) and to Christine. My letter to Christine was from my solicitors, Dogchaser, Boobie & Crapper. (Oh, I mentioned this yesterday. Am I perhaps going slightly senile?)

Dad went out at midnight to surround the house of a sleeping escaped prisoner. I was in bed with the Scarlet Pimpernel for 11:30 and slipped away into the Land of Nod before his return.

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Tuesday February 14, 1978

Moon's first quarter 22:11   St Valentine

Seasons Greetings

When All the World is young, lad
And all the trees are green,
with every goose a swan, lad
And every lass a Queen,
They hey for boot and horse, lad
Around the world way,
Young blood must have it's course, lad
and every dog his day.

This poem was inserted in my diary 5 years ago this day. Is it Kingsley? I like it. It could be by Karl Marx for all I know.

I did extremely well this Valentine's Day. I have checked previous years: 1977 ~ none; 1976 ~ 2; 1975 ~ none; 1974 ~ not recorded; 1973 ~ one from June Bottomley. How did I do in 1978? Well, 2 cards, and one passionate letter arrived in today's post. One card is postmarked Pulborough, West Sussex (no doubt from Jacq) and the other card is from Carole and postmarked Leeds. The letter is from Carole too.

It reads:


                                           Monday 13th Feb, 1978
                                           To Michael ~ How do you say goodbye?
                                           Don't Tell me not to cry.
                                          The warmth of your smile,
                                           The passion of your kiss,
                                           Is with me all the while,
                                           Is it to end like this?
                                           Please don't go my love
                                           You said you'd always stay,
                                           You gave me the greatest love of my life,
                                           Oh how can you walk away?
                                           I'd give my life to see you again
                                           That love in your eyes for me
                                           Love from Carole
                                                   xxxx
                                                    xxx
                                                     xx

Bloody Hell, she makes Lord Byron sound like Stan Ogden in one swoop of the pen. Hell, I didn't even send her a card. I shall have to get writing, and quickly. Do I get more points due to the fact that she's engaged to another?

I am pleased with today. I've just heard a piece of music called 'Romance' by Charles Widor which I find haunting and beautiful. I shall have to buy it and get it out of my system.

Wrote to David L and Christine.My letter to CB was one of complaint at not receiving a Valentine's card. Jacq and Carole will be dealt with ~ correspondence wise ~ tomorrow.

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Monday February 13, 1978

A nasty, disappointing day. At the YP I find that Eileen is the only occupant of the Library ~ so that's an end to the Rawtenstall venture. Sarah is off with a stomach upset and Mrs ______ has 'the flu', or so we are informed by her horribly snobby mother. If this is the case the next time I have a cold I'm going to phone in and tell them I'm having an abortion.

I phoned Chris and told him I couldn't make it and he was good about it. He may not even go himself because of the weather.

At lunchtime I purchased three Valentine's cards and despatched them to Christine, Jacqui, and WPC Carolle Jones. I thought of sending one to Carole but decided against it. Fogarty would only make her life more of a Hell than it already is. It's a great pity that we cannot be friendly and nice to each other.

To other things: Mrs Thatcher's been making an impact at Harrogate where a Young Conservative thing is going on. She has an eleven per cent lead over the government according to an opinion poll (Ha Ha) but it seems that Callabum is determined to hang on until the Spring of 1979.

Peter Townsend was interviewed on TV tonight where he discussed Princess Margaret for the first time. He seems remarkable for a 63 year-old. Would things, one wonders, have worked out less sordid for the Princess had she married the Group Captain in 1955? Her love life since has definitely been one ghastly misfortune after another. Indeed, in a month's time the Snowdons will have been separated for 2 years and entitled to divorce. Snowdon wants to marry Mrs Lucy Lindsay-Hogg, reputedly his mistress. We shall have to wait and see.

To bed with Baroness Orczy at 12. Fell asleep with the bedroom light burning brightly.

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Sunday February 12, 1978

1st in Lent.

Breakfast very enjoyable at the Hollywood and at 12 we were back in the bar drinking again. Disgusting really.

Read in the Sunday papers about poor Spike Milligan's wife, who died last week from cancer.

By 3:00pm we were all eating once again, and at 5 we were on the road home. Coming over the Pennines the weather became evil and foul. Cannot imagine going to Rawtenstall tomorrow if it persists.

Felt tired from the exertions but thoroughly enjoyed the visit. Lynn, Dave, Sue and Pete seem happy too.

Phoned Chris tonight and he thinks the trip planned for tomorrow can still go ahead. I have to contact him in the morning. He has decided that Jacq and I will be getting married. __________.

Took a long needed plunge in the bath. I think I'm giving up on Edward VI. The book has become too deeply involved  in church affairs of the 1550s for my liking. I like a biography to be more personal. 'El Dorado' by Baroness Orczy is the only book I have left. A sad thing it is.

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Saturday February 11, 1978

Sun rises 07:23 Sun sets 17:08

Went with Lynn and Dave to see Edith and Ernest this morning. Snow was thickly laid, and it was too bright for the eye-balls following last night's extravaganza.

Peter didn't come up until after 12 and so we were late leaving for Stockport. As usual we became hopelessly lost and had a guided tour of Manchester, Blackpool and Glasgow.

We got to the Hollywood at 2 and the girls and boys were introduced to Mrs Glynn. We all thoroughly enjoyed ourselves, and Dave B, being thoughtful towards the ladies, took us to a flea market where we rummaged amongst the antiques for a couple of hours. I didn't make any purchases, but I did my utmost to persuade Lynn and Sue to buy a fox fur stole complete with head, tail and beady eyes.

Back at the Hollywood for an evening meal Dave (B) was taken ill with a bad headache. Lynn says that 'bad heads' are hereditary in the Baker family. Dave's uncle died from one, and his mother is forever bothered by them. How bloody morbid!

My Rotters 'passport' snap.

However, we started in the bar, without Dave, at 8:30. Glenn and Garry came, and we left for the Emigration Inn at 9 after Dave's sudden recovery. From there we went to 'Rotters', where a bouncer refused me entry because I was clad in a leather jacket. This meant a taxi ride back to the Hollywood to pick up a suitable jacket, and I was back at the disco in ten minutes or so. An excellent evening. We consumed vast quantities of booze and danced like fools until 1:30. I became a club member and had my photo taken for a 'passport'.

Back to the Hollywood in taxis in freezing conditions at 2:00. Had cheese on toast and laughed and made merry as people are apt to do on these occasions. Lynn and Sue slept in Dave G's bed, Dave B, Dave G and I slept in the lounge. Horribly uncomfortable on the floor.

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Friday February 10, 1978

Mike Holman's party at the Wellesley. Sarah, John MacM and I went from the YP at 6, but first I must say something about the catastrophic day.

At breakfast I decided to go by train to the vast metropolis that is Leeds. On the train I discovered, with horror, that my jeans had split open and that I was revealing all and everything to the Ilkley/Leeds inter city travellers. The woman in the seat opposite me certainly got her 37p worth. It was a good thing I had an old pair of pants at the office to change into. My arrival at the YP was received with some hilarity. Kathleen's eyes shone with delight at my predicament.

Finding my pre-war trousers incompatible with the 1978 way of life I went at lunchtime to Schofield's where I purchased a new zip fastener, a needle and cotton. Sarah did the seamstress bit after Kathleen's departure and by 5:30 I was once again clad in my faithful jeans. Good old Sarah.

Anyway, back to Mike Holman's party. The first two or three hours were somewhat dull. The booze flowed like the Danube, River Trent and Lake Windermere merged into one. Sarah and John Mac were soon pink and giggly on gin and we endured Edna Mason's dramatic entry which would have brought colour to Shakespeare's cheeks. However, things cheered up with the arrival of Tom Greenwell's assistant leader writer who is insane. He had us rolling uncontrollably in heaps on the floor. All the man could talk about was the Republic of Upper Volta and rabbit breeding.

Ursula, Wendy and others poured in and of course John Cameron, who said I'd make a nice lad once I reach puberty. Very amusing is Mr Cameron. At some unearthly hour we returned to the YP and drank in the editor's office from crates of warm, bottled beer. The little men from the Wire Room were amusing and told me things about Edna Mason that cannot appear here. Chris Oakley made a good speech for Mike and we consumed more beer before Wendy grabbed me and brought me home to Guiseley. It must have been 2:00am.

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Thursday February 9, 1978

Letter from David L suggesting May 19 as a possible date for our raid on Nailsworth. I write to Helen and Graham suggesting this to them. If nothing else, it will give them time to prepare for the ghastly, drunken onslaught.

John Grady phoned at 3 (I'm on half day at home). It was good to hear from him. He suggests I go to Rawtenstall possibly the Monday after next with Chris who is going to Lancashire to visit John and Co and pay a long over due visit to his grandparents. I'll phone Chris tonight and see what he has to say. It's been great hearing from friends.

Christine phoned yesterday afternoon ~ just to make polite conversation. I think that our 'chat' at Naomi's rekindled a good deal of the old flame that burned between us. (Blimey!) But I think Christine and I will always be like one fun loving infused brain. I must write. (Yes, you've guessed that I'm entering this year's journal for the Nobel Prize for Literature). It's only just gone tea time and I've a lot to do yet so can you wait around until later this evening for me to continue? ...................

Lynn.

...............I don't think I should have bothered saving any space for later because tonight just faded out with no spectacular scenes of any kind. All I did was watch TV and read 'El Dorado' by Baroness Orczy. Retired to bed abominably late again because after 'Top of the Pops' Lynn and I retired to the dining room with a bottle of Liebfraumilch to look at photo albums and listen to records. It was so pleasant. Just think, it might be one of the last evenings of this kind. When she's married and raising red faced Bakers in Burley in Wharfedale she'll have no time to sit and think of old times with big brother. Isn't it sad? We have only just escaped from childhood and now she's going off into the big, wide world.

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Wednesday February 8, 1978

First Day in Lent. Ash Wednesday.

I am giving up spending money for Lent. Yes, I intend saving over £100. OK, you don't believe me but I'm going to show you just what willpower I do have.

Lady Jane Spencer.

Quite an ordinary sort of day. In 'The Times' engagements section I see that Lady Sarah Spencer's sister, Lady Jane, is to marry Robert Fellowes, assistant private secretary to the Queen. I passed this info on to Fred, who will do something for the YP 'People' column tomorrow. I bet Nigel Dempster and William Hickey will do something on this tomorrow. Is Lady Sarah going to take the plunge with HRH and make it a double event? This will be the theme.

Feel buggered and slightly dead. Because of this I have changed from red ink to this suitably sombre black. At home this evening I couldn't be bothered to do a single thing. Was tempted by an Alfred Hitchcock film on the BBC, but dozed in the chair like an octogenarian whilst the bulk of the murders were being carried out.

I have received a Valentine's card from WPC Carolle Jones. Yeah, a week early too. I quiver when I think of the recent night we spent in Burley in Wharfedale after Naomi's party. I like WPC Jones very much. She arouses in me some neolithic feelings that lay dormant when she is away back on the beat. Cor, I've never been out with a policewoman before. Penelope Keith's gone a step further and married a detective constable.


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