Friday April 28, 1978

Met Jacq at the Ostlers at lunchtime and had a couple of pints of shandy. _____. Once again I am just about destitute. A £5 note graces my pocket with no signs of any more booty getting therein before the next pay day. However, Jacq does have £5 of mine towards my 'Shirt Fund'. We'll see how it goes, anyway.

I worked until 5, got the train home, and then set out again for Leeds at 6:30 to meet Jacq! So stupid leaving Leeds in the first place.

We met at 7:30 and went to the Odeon to see 'Close Encounters of the Third Kind' which is an exquisite film. Sarah and John Mac saw it on Wednesday and Sarah was so impressed she slept through the whole showing. I'd say it's one of the best films I've ever seen. Jacq was weeping. The film proved just too much for her.

Close Encounters ....

At 11 we were thrust out into the bustling streets of Leeds to discover no public transport of any kind. Hundreds of thousands of bingo playing OAPs were openly throwing themselves beneath the wheels of passing vehicles in the chaos and horror that followed.

I took Jacq back to the YWCA and set out on the long road home on foot. On Wellington Street I teamed up with an old boy from Yeadon and we walked along discussing trade unions, Northern Ireland and the French Revolution. In fact we walked for ten miles and only managed to get a lift when we were at Rawdon Crematorium. We were picked up by three lads whom I recognised from various pubs. They were pissed up. The driver couldn't find his gears, and when I commented on this he told me it was a stolen car and he hadn't quite got the hang of it yet. I believed him too. Typical isn't it, that I should go out on a Saturday night with my best girl to the cinema and end up being the brains behind the greatest armed robbery without even trying?

I went to bed with a glass of lager and sat rubbing hand cream all over my feet. Oh, it was bliss.

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Thursday April 27, 1978

Lunch at the Ostlers with Jacq.

To Oakwood Hall tonight with Christine. First we went to the Hare & Hounds for one miserable drink in the company of poor Kathryn Young. No sighting of Judith, but I was told she was 'lurking' behind the bar with her 'young man'.

The night was an amusing one anyway. We laughed at the young boys who were attempting to imitate John Travolta whenever a Bee Gees record was played. "Oh, so you've seen the film too" was Christine's quip on the dance floor.

We didn't drink to excess. I drank cider. The lager was discarded completely. Home at nearly 2:0am. We caused a riot on the lane. Even Jim Rawnsley was awakened by the screams of laughter.

-=-

Wednesday April 26, 1978

I went from the YP by train to Pudsey where I joined Mum and Dad at Auntie Mabel's for tea. She made us a nice salad and afterwards we sat with a few drinks before the television. It's now almost certainly been confirmed that my Uncle Jack (Myers) is suffering from cancer of the pancreas. Sadly, Jackie (Myers) didn't arrive as planned at Auntie's. I haven't laid eyes on Jacqueline since May, 1976.

... You could all employ yourselves doing something beneficial to the community instead of eavesdropping on me. Blimey, I probably died years ago, and none of this drivel will matter when all is said and done.

-=-

Tuesday April 25, 1978

Is this journal becoming increasingly boring? At twenty three I may well have lost my lustre. I only hope that you, dear reader, will bear with me through the morose flow of daily trivia. One must, above all things, take the rough with the smooth.

Anyway, Jacqueline Mary Sate and I did once again meet for light refreshment in the period of our lunchtime. The Ostlers is now a familiar scene on these filthy, soaking afternoons. ________________.

The diaries of Samuel Pepys are keeping me gripped to my chair. King Charles II is now firmly established upon his throne. It's a pleasure to read. Eleven years of Puritanical chaos must have been Hell for all normal, fun-loving souls. I, for one, would have taken a visa and escaped to Majorca until Mr Cromwell snuffed it.

-=-

Monday April 24, 1978

Up to Rawdon to see old Hough (dentist). As usual I need a couple of teeth filling and have to go back on May 4.

Sarah took me to Rawdon in Delia's car, which was good of her. I'm supposed to be going to tea with them both next week. Whether I shall or not depends on the movements of Mr W.A. Collis, because I'm never entertained there when he's lodging at home. He hates me.

Jacq started work today at Dacre, Son & Hartley. I phoned her tonight to see how things went. She says OK. The money is ghastly after London but that's the way things are. It's Dacre's dinner dance on Saturday and I'm accompanying Jacq. More expense!

We are going for a quick drink on Wednesday lunchtime, not before. She is attempting to manage my financial affairs. I have every intention of achieving solvency by August or September.

Sandy Denny, the singer, is dead.



Christine phoned. Goodnight.

-=-

Sunday April 23, 1978

Full Moon 05:11 4th Sunday after Easter St George (England)

I was awakened at 9:30 by Alison who was waking John (in another bed in the room) in order to get him to work on time. That poor boy seems to do little else. Graham Dixon, Alison's brother, was also in a third bed in the room, and was introduced to me for the first time. Shaking hands with somebody in bed doesn't seem quite right somehow. He is quite scarred after a recent car accident.

A really beautiful day. Open top car weather, shirt sleeves, and all that. Alison took Jacq and I on a pub crawl of the area and we knocked back Pernod in a way that brought the beaches of Ibiza to the forefront of my pickled mind. The pubs included the Cart & Horses at Kings Worthy, the Plough at Itchen Abbas, the Bush at Ovington, the Globe at Alresford, &c. Most of the inns appear to be packed with over fed stockbrokers, retired field marshals and accompanying ladies.


Hurtling through Hampshire with Alison.

Back at Alison's I met Mr & Mrs Dixon for the first time. Very amiable folk. We contemplated staying until tonight but on phoning Victoria we are told we cannot exchange our tickets unless we go there in person, which defeats the object. So at 3:30 we spent £7 for the two of us to go from Winchester to London Waterloo by train. It took just an hour. We larked about on the Embankment and in Parliament Square which took us to 6pm and home time. I took a picture of Jacq dancing next to a statue of Jan Christian Smuts - it should be quite good. It looked as if the old boy was tap dancing too.


Jacq dancing with Jan Christian Smuts

A long coach journey. We were an hour late in Leeds. Jacq only just made it to the hostel on time and I was certain I wouldn't get a bus home. Daddy was phoned and he and Mama collected me at 11:30. Back for supper and a hot bath. By 1am I was in bed with Samuel Pepys.


-=-

Saturday April 22, 1978

Sun rises 5:51 Sun sets 20:08

First Day of Passover (Pesach)

Up at 7am to the sound of Trixie frying breakfast and singing in her kitchen. Obviously, she suffers none of the 'morning after' effects. Peter S actually came home late last night (supposedly a rare thing for Mr Sate) and was forced to sleep on the chaise lounge, or whatever you call those French sofas with a roll at one end and no back.

After a dash round the bathroom Jacq and I went out for the 8 o'clock bus to Finsbury Park where we found the tube to Victoria. At 9:15 we got a coach to Wallingford in Oxfordshire, a 2 hour journey.

Jacq and I amused ourselves on the back seat, much to the horror of a family of hikers, who stared at us in disbelief. Some of the countryside though which we passed was stunningly beautiful. The money is thickly spread around in Oxfordshire, if you ask me.

At Wallingford we were collected by Mr George Oakes, father of the bride. The house, though being very ordinary, possessed an astounding photograph collection of members of the royal family - and all SIGNED! One photo on top of the television was a signed portrait of the Queen and Duke of Edinburgh. Others were spread around the sitting room from the Queen Mother, Princess Margaret, the Duke and Duchess of Gloucester, Princess Alexandra, &c. It transpires that Mr Oakes was for ten years, 1966-76, secretary to the Queen's Flight.





Jacq was upstairs with Gina (the bride) and I sat drinking gin and tonic with a strange lady who is married to a relation of somebody. Brilliant sunshine erupts at 2:30, when Gina (Miss Georgina Margaret Oakes) is married to Flight Lieutenant Hugh Monroe Dawson. The ceremony was a Methodist one and I found it quite the most sincere solemnization I have yet experienced. Afterwards, at RAF Benson, we boozed and noshed. I was alone and wandering about like a lost sheep for some time because Jacq, in her capacity as bridesmaid, was for most of the time tied up with the photographer and other necessary annoyances. I was befriended by a humorous old boy, whom Jacq later labelled ACDC. He seems to have taken a shine to me.






At 7-ish we went back to the Oakes residence travelling there with Auntie Nancy and Uncle Percy. More gin and jokes followed and finally we took our leave at 10:30.

To the Green Tree pub in Wallingford where we waited for Alison's arrival.She bombed up in a sports car at about midnight and by 1am we were back in Winchester and at the Berni Inn where we met John P.

Meeting John at the Berni almost got the poor bugger dismissed because the manager's wife took offence when he served us with a drink at that time in the morning. John did chuck £3 in the till and poured the manager a brandy but all the same she took exception to this. It was an embarrassment all round.

Alison, John, Jacq and I returned to Ally's house at Martyr Worthy. John, who has worked a long shift, almost passed out with exhaustion, and at sometime after 3am we all retired.

Alison's house, though large and attractive, is not the Versailles of Lynn's tales. I fear the Rhodes imagination has run amok in this direction.

-=-

Friday April 21, 1978

Birthday of Queen Elizabeth II

Lynn got me out of bed at 6:30 and I devoured a few slices of toast and read the Daily Mail. The Queen is 52 today. She's in the paper this morning holding her grandson, Peter, in a Snowdon portrait.

Got the 7:52 train to Leeds and met Jacq at the bus station on Wellington Street. She's wearing a hat and reading Erich Segal's follow up to 'Love Story'. It looks like sentimental slush to me.



Left for London at 8:30 and got to Victoria at 1pm. We had a few drinks at the Albert, a pub done out in Victorian style, and then afterwards walked down the Embankment towards Waterloo Bridge. For a while we queued at the entrance at the Commons for a look at the yelling and bawling mob, but after half an hour it began to drizzle and we made our escape.



To Trixie's at Muswell Hill for 5:30 where we had a massive meal of pork roll and avocado pear, &c. Trixie was in good shape and so pleased to see Jacq. Peter S is thinner. He went out with his friend Nick, and the three of us went to the BBC Social Club at the Alexandra Palace. Quite a drunken affair it was too, especially after Trixie won a bottle of Teacher's whisky in a raffle. I was drinking lager with Scotch chasers. Ugh. Yes, I did it again.____________.

Trixie drove us back to the flat pissed, driving at approx 2 MPH with windscreen wipers going like hell, but at least she stuck to the correct side of the road. On arrival home poor Trixie vomited in her palatial loo.

Bundled into Peter's bed.

-=-

Thursday April 20, 1978

Once again 'tis pay day for your humble narrator. Today, just in case you are interested, is the birthday of Adolf Hitler. He was born in 1889 and so you can work out for yourself just which birthday he is celebrating quietly in his Rio flat.

Jacq and I had a drink at the Ostlers at 12:45. Pleasant conversation flowed, as did the 2 pints of lager. I pulled her leg about her Cockney accent. Her interpretation of 'light ale' is a killer.

I prepared for my expedition to the southern counties. At 5 I went to John and Maria's but finding the house locked and shuttered I was compelled to go to the mill to dig him out of the sawdust.He took me back to Silverdale where I borrowed his grey suit (in fact it was originally my suit - see the end of 1975 for the purchase of this grotty, sack-like object).

Saw Carole and (Peter) Fogarty but nothing much was said. Carole, however, did colour up when our eyes met. I don't think I registered any emotion. Back home I thrust everything into my ruck-sack and all was ready.

Tonight, being Thursday, we were bombarded by Jim and Margaret Nason and the intrepid Edith and Ernest. _________. Afterwards Sue, Pete and I had a prawn curry with chips.

To bed at 1:0am.

-=-

Wednesday April 19, 1978

Another busy day at the YP.

Jacq and I went to the Central at lunchtime where we had just one miserable drink. We discussed my job and I vowed that by the beginning of August I'll be in new employment. We discussed all possibilities from milkman, to brain surgeon and ITN newscaster. Jacq has just spent £15 on a new pair of shoes which consist of three straps of cream leather with heels at one end. Nice though. She is sceptical about the weekend arrangements. She isn't acquainted with John (Pinder) and Alison and fails to see how easily we are going to obtain lodgings for Saturday night and thinks it impossible that our intended hosts will chauffeur us back to London on Sunday. I have greater faith in John William Hutchinson Pinder, Esq, and Miss Alison Mary Dixon.

Got a lift back to Guiseley with Jim. In fact this evening I was summoned to his office at the Civic Hall where I waited for him to terminate another conference on the banning of the NF march in Leeds on Saturday. I was home for just after 6.

This evening sport dominated the television but I didn't watch thanks to the mysterious grip of Samuel Pepys. I have read 122 pages. I find it all very fascinating.King Charles II is preparing to return to his kingdom from exile at Breda.

On the 9 o'clock news I saw Prince Andrew make his parachute drop over some misty, southern county. He said he had enjoyed it very much. It's the first time I've heard the 18 year-old prince speak. All the women go quite mad over him. Even mother casts James Garner, the American actor, aside at the sight of Her Majesty's second son scrambling across a turnip field all entangled in his rip cord.

Bed at midnight with Samuel Pepys.


Samuel Pepys's diary.

The family tell me that I look pale and in some cases yellow. Sunken eyes were mentioned. Blimey, is my age showing at last?

-=-

Tuesday April 18, 1978

Jacq's secured a job in Leeds at the Royal Exchange House. She phoned today with the news that she's going to be an audio typist secretary or something for a company the name of which I have forgotten. Lynn took the call and said: "Hello, Sarah". Oh dear. I will always remember Vera Mather saying "Oh, hello Stephen" to me when I'd been 'walking out' with Lynne M for about six months.

Tonight I walked to the Civic Hall at 5pm to meet Jim but he was nowhere in sight, and having spent my fare money on scampi and coleslaw salad at lunchtime you can imagine my predicament. Penniless in the centre of a bustling metropolis. However, having no infirmities of any kind (other than mental ones) I put my best foot forward and marched in a homeward direction. Passing Kirkstall Abbey I secured a lift from a gentlemanly Menstonian who brought me all the way to Guiseley. He told me of the horrors of running a business in the midst of public transport chaos. I pitied him greatly.

At the foot of Hawksworth Lane I was picked up by Jim showering me (yet again) with profuse apologies. He was late because his car had been delayed having a service at Appleyard's.

Home for tea at 6:35. On the BBC news I saw the Prince of Wales and Prince Andrew training to make a parachute jump at RAF Brize Norton. My blood ran cold at the thought of a communist parachute packer hacking away with pinking shears at the royal baggage. Surely the princes do not intend leaping from the same plane at the same time? If so, the consequences could mean we have a King Edward IX, and Lady Sarah Spencer's anorexia nervosa suffering a relapse.


The Prince of Wales and his brother parachute training.

Bed at 11:30

-=-