Sunday June 26, 1977

3rd after Trinity.  After watching the sun rise above Ilkley Moor I decided to go out and investigate. A cuckoo summoned me from the heather (or was it in a tree?) and I pursued the calling for several miles up hill. I went up past the College of Education and past a white-washed cottage near a babbling stream where I lay down and snoozed. After some time I staggered back to the flat with a police patrol car keeping vigilance over me. It was about 6am when I got back and Tony was up and about. He was in fact opening all the letters he'd received this week from his bank manager. It was too much for me and I went to bed.

Ilkley Moor.

We ate eggs and bacon and fried bread at about 10 and then sat around saying what fools we are and how we should know better, &c.

Tony attempted to analyse Carole once more but I feel at times like this that he's got the whole thing wrong or else I'm a lunatic. He always comes to the conclusion that I am to blame for her unstable behaviour.

Home for 11. Lunch with the family. Watched the film 'The L-Shaped Room'. Passed into a coma in the chair and don't feel remotely ready to go in to the YP.

Down the lane at 4 and in the office for 5. Wendy worked tonight too.

Home with the taxi driver who once lectured me on snakes bite remedies. Tonight we discussed the latest Leeds (Ripper) murder and capital punishment. We agreed entirely and I am seriously thinking about nominating him for a parliamentary seat at the coming autumn general election (just a guess). The Taxi Party. Ah, yes, I can see it now. For a start I'd grow a small black moustache and then I'd exterminate all the Scots.

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Saturday June 25, 1977

With Tony and Martyn to Bradford this morning. Martyn got a new pair of jeans and a T-shirt for Ibiza. I'm envious because not two pennies do I possess. Tony is in a very similar situation too.

We then took Martyn to Cleckheaton Golf Course and then went on to Otley to browse around - generally looking for old friends and acquaintances on whom to impose ourselves. Saw Jane (of Peter Mather fame, see Diary Sept 3-4, 1976) on Otley market and she's quite chatty. I'm not all that impressed with her though.

Back to the flat for tea. Read the Daily Express, watched Wimbledon and the Muppet Show and then played some ancient records in Tony's collection. I taped a batch of them so that we can have a sing-along in the car.

Harrogate Arms.

Martyn came at 8.30 and we went out a 9. First to Pool-in-Wharfedale and then to the Harrogate Arms. At the latter Carole is in the lounge with Fogarty and did her best to hide when we walked in. I didn't even spot her but Tony's eye fell on her straight away. I could laugh really. When I was at the bar she went over to chat with the boys and when I approached them laden with glasses she ducked away back to Peter. The childish, stupid bitch. Tony told her to go away and asked her to ring him tomorrow.

Back to the flat where I got horribly drunk and vomited. A concoction of brandy and whisky. Val came to see Tony and they took Martyn home at 1.30. I sat in a chair by candlelight until dawn.

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Friday June 24, 1977

Met Dave B at 1 o'clock and went to Parker's (wine bar) where we see Delia, Sarah, Marilyn and Barbara Wheeler. We had a couple of drinks. Dave chats with Stephanie Ferguson who is in with Linda Shaw and Jo, the editor's 'fallen secretary', who leaves this afternoon.

Duchess: pregnant at 44.

Sarah and I went back to the office at 2 to relieve Carol J who also went over to Parker's to annoy Jo, and no doubt get pissed up. I intended having a quiet afternoon but the phone rang and Sarah spoke to the York Office who want everything we've got on the Duchess of Kent. They say she's pregnant. I just do not believe it. The woman is 44 years-old. Speak to the news desk and yes it is confirmed. Three royal babies before next February. Quite startling really but great news to the ears of one who relishes the spread of the Royal House of Windsor.

Tony returned from the wilds of Hampshire today. He and Martyn came up tonight and the three of us went off to the Bod. Sue (WH Smith of Bradford Sue), Michelle and Co. are in the pub but I'm not too communicative. Michelle tells me she is going to Morocco tomorrow. I just smile and say "nice" but really think going to such a place can only be a mistake. She could end up in the harem of King Hassan. Poor child, she is so naive too.

Tony is fit and cheerful. Pete M, Chris and Steve Hudson came in at 10.30. We left at 11.

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Thursday June 23, 1977

The diaries of John Evelyn have been sold for a tremendous (I keep using that word) sum at Christie's or Sotheby's yesterday. Are you considering put these volumes under the hammer? You might as well.

The 'flying pickets': Grunwick Dispute

A hot day but the Yorkshire Post prevents my becoming involved in it or participating in any of its pleasures. Kathleen was infuriating.

Home at 5 for sandwiches on the lawn with Mama and Papa. Tony rang at 7.30 from deepest Hertfordshire - or wherever Bishop Thingy is. He is back among us tomorrow. It was good to hear him.

Martyn is playing golf somewhere and nothing was heard from him all night.

On the news saw the 'flying pickets' in the Grunwick Dispute. (Please refer to your history books, particularly the Dictionary of National Biography and the illustrious paragraph on Sir Arthur Scargill, KG, NUM, , &c). Someone at home asked what Mr Rees, our beloved Home Secretary, is doing about all the bother and Lynn quipped: "Oh Mrs Rees doesn't like Merlyn watching all this violence on the television and so she hasn't told him about it." Brilliant. No doubt silly Meryln goes to bed when Childrens' Hour finishes. Roll on Margaret Thatcher.

To bed at 11.30 after another squabble with Mama about my financial situation.

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Wednesday June 22, 1977

Phoned Carole and talked about very little. Not fraternising with her until next week and I can't say I'm bothered. Not exactly like Anthony and Cleopatra are we?

Tony and Cleo.

The poor dear Queen is in Wales on her jubilee tour of that boring pin-prick of a principality.

John and JPH came at tea time and we all sat on the lawn. He (JPH that is) has picked up quite a few new tricks and now sings every time his grandpapa rattles his key ring.

Lynn and David went to Salvo's (that's young David, not old David). They came home half sozzled with tales of wonderment about the size of the pizzas consumed. I became quite hungry at the thought of it.

My great-grandmother Rella Wilson was born 122 years ago today and my grandmother, Ruth Ellen Rhodes died 18 years ago today.

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Tuesday June 21, 1977

Out with Martyn, Susan and Peter to the Hare and Hounds. Lynn is dishing out the ale. Judith and Kathryn came in and I said I'd been off the scene for 'financial reasons'. Judith asked: 'Have you forgiven the manager yet?' I said I most certainly have not. From the County Mortuary we went to the Shoulder of Mutton where we were joined by Karen Cole, Julie Webster and lovers. Do not particularly like the Shoulder but the beer's wet at least. Down to the fish and chip shop where we satisfied our hunger on innocent haddock. We always have a nice time, Sue, Pete, Martyn and me. No one likes ________and Peter seems to have a pathological hatred of him. ______.

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Monday June 20, 1977

Shagged out after the riotous weekend on the booze.  Work was thoroughly boring and took immense willpower just to stop my eyes clamping together permanently.

A night in front of the television brought the time round to midnight and I was taken to the intensive car unit of a local hospital where the last rites were administered by Cardinal Hume.

If the remainder of the diary is blank please don't be surprised because I'm not sure whether they have the facilities to keep a journal where I'm going.

It's summer madness, folks.

Sunday June 19, 1977

2nd after Trinity.  The Evening Post Father's Day Trip to Blackpool with all the consequences that go with it.

Lazenby: music hall star.

Martyn, of course joined the team and the both of us were with Pete Lazenby for most of the day. We started drinking on the coach at about 9.30am and until 11pm it was really the only source of recreation.  For a couple of hours in the afternoon when the pubs closed to re-stock their shelves we went wild on the Golden Mile - clad in our eccentric head-gear as is the tradition on the annual Father's Day excursion.

Why is it that respectable old ladies will go to great lengths just to kiss the proud, upstanding wearer of a top hat?  They do, anyway.

The weather was exceptional. Warm and sunny. We couldn't participate in the ritual 'football of the beach' because for the first time in living memory, the tide was, as they say, in.

By 7.30 we were back at the Albion in Skipton for refreshment and Peter's cabaret appearance. The boy excelled himself too. His song about the royal family set to the tune of 'In an English Country Garden' received my boos and hisses and tremendous applause was given to his 'Albert and the Lion'. He'd make a brilliant music hall star. Home by 11.30 and only slightly pissed which cannot be said for the majority of merry trippers. No indeed.

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Saturday June 18, 1977

Things aren't half quiet without Tony on the scene. I only hope his stay in Bishop Stortford will do him some good.

I didn't get out of bed until almost 12 and set off immediately down the lane on my Father's Day/Wedding anniversary present purchasing expedition. My first port of call was Maria's where I persuaded her to hold over her mail order catalogue money until Thursday so giving me an extra £4 for the parties ahead. Carole was there ironing of all things. She was quiet. By about 4 the both of us were in Guiseley. I  escorted her to her bus at the White Cross. No kisses or signs of affection from either of us and I just say I'll phone in the week.

Got a couple of boxes of chocolates for tomorrow's events and then went to meet John on Thorpe Lane. He's doing up the old Moffat residence for Pamela and her intended. He's the strong silent type is John.

Ernest: home brew adviser.

Mum and Dad have started the wine making lark. When I set out for Wetherby at 6.30 Ernest Blackwell was lecturing them on how best to bottle your hock.

Arrived in Leeds at 7.15 and got to Wetherby for about 8pm. We all congregated in one of the local pubs and moved on to the Town Hall at about 9. Sarah was with John MacMurray and they looked odd together but he's more pleasant than queer old Peter Baker.

The party is quite incredible really. Chris had laid on a 'spread' but it had all been devoured, but the barrels of Theakston's beer were still to be had in profusion. A punk rock group entertained in the ballroom and they invited the party goers to be sick on the highly polished floor. The local aristocracy seem to be thickly spread and several military gents with handle-bar moustaches were competing with the likes of me over the dwindling contents of the barrels of ale. Sarah didn't enjoy it and plotted with Ursula to leave early and at 11 we hurried off to Aberford to have coffee at the McDermott pile. I didn't really want to leave the party at all but it was a choice between a lift back to Guiseley or bed at the Monckton cottage - and the latter hadn't been confirmed anyway. At one time I would have told Sarah to sod it, but I'm 22 now. Goodnight all.

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Friday June 17, 1977

Awoke in chaos at 7.15. Karen (Cole) is on the rampage screaming at Martyn for sleeping in. Mick Stirling, Richard Brabiner and Julie Webster are in residence and must have come back after we'd retired. Martyn and Karen argued like cat and dog. She took Martyn to work at 7.30 and Richard Brabiner to his place of employment. __________.Mick Stirling tells me he drinks six pints of milk a day. Such a vast quantity cannot be beneficial, surely? I'm home by 7.50 and as I step down the garden path I see Jim preparing to leave. Took breakfast with Lynn and Sue and then they bombed off in the spitfire at 8.30.

Princess Marie-Astrid.

Hear on the radio that the palace have denied that an engagement is on the cards between the Prince of Wales and Princess Marie-Astrid of Luxembourg. This must mean it's a spring wedding 1978 style. What do you think? No doubt by the time you read this the fair haired Serene Highness is the dear old Queen Mother, eh?

To Silverdale Drive at lunchtime to see John, Maria and JPH. The baby is thriving and is endowed with a profusion of teeth but takes quite some time to recognise his haggard uncle. The unfortunate child hasn't seen me since God knows when. John went to work after his lunch and Maria, baby and I went into Guiseley. We phoned Carole who told Maria she's going out with Fogarty tonight 'because he knows how to treat a girl properly'.

Out tonight with Martyn, Sue and Pete N, first to the Fox & Hounds and then (aargh yes) to the Hare. Martyn looking for a female he's had his eye on. She wasn't anywhere to be seen. Judith apologised to me for not contacting me in over a month. Blimey, it was me who cleared off without so much as a word, but I didn't let on.

Back to Pine Tops. Fell to sleep in the chair. Completely shagged out.

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Thursday June 16, 1977

Out with Carole, Naomi and Martyn tonight. Yes, a weird combination of loonies but if you don't do silly things like this when you're young it will soon be time to grow up. I am cheerful and robust all day and look forward to the night on the town - determined not to squabble with Miss Phillips or mention Fogarty.

Carole: called me 'Peter'

Naomi and Carole called for me at 8.20 and we drove over the moor to Ilkley to collect Mr Cole. Some idiots were hang-gliding near the Cow & Calf rocks and I opened the car window and waved and shouted at them much to Naomi's amusement. Carole was quiet. She didn't look at me after leaving home. Even when I came out of the house and got in the car she was sitting hunched and looking in the opposite direction.

The four of us went to Neville's. Carole immediately got off to a lousy start. On to the Craven Heifer. Sat like morons. She infuriates me by repeatedly asking: "what's the matter?" And I infuriate her by replying: "what do you mean by what's the matter?" Silly, eh? Naomi too isn't all that better - sitting like a High Court judge - a real bundle of fun.

From the Craven Heifer it was obvious that if Naomi were to go to Oakwood Hall the strain would probably kill her and so it was back to Martyn's for coffee (his mama and papa are holidaying).

We summoned a priest to administer the last rites to Naomi but he arrived too late. Carole spilt hot coffee all over her foliage (sic) and I gave up my shirt for her and wore one of Martyn's. We both had a gin and attempted some conversation. I was so glad that Martyn was in the room to hear it because I thought it was me who was going insane. We are just incompatible. Every sentence ends in a dispute. Carole asks: "Michael, why do we hate each other so much?" I don't hate her one bit. She just cannot be happy with me. Sipping the gin she called me 'Peter'. Martyn found this hilarious and kept mentioning the weather saying we might be having a 'foggy' start in the morning. (You know, FOGarty. Ha Ha).

The girls went home at 12.30 and Martyn and I went on to Il Trovarore which lived up to its usual standard. Back to Martyn's £3 later. Slept in the spare room - soundly.

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Wednesday June 15, 1977

Lynn got me up at at about 7 and I watched her leave the house at 7.15. She's going to the Isle of Man on Yorkshire Light Aircraft business.

Mama and Papa arrived home from Wales at tea time. They have endured constant rain with the exception of Sunday and have spent a fortune on hotel bills. Neither of them look as though they've been on holiday and I feel sorry for them. We have bacon and sausages. I tell them Lynn is in the Isle of Man. Mum immediately begins to worry. Her precious daughter being up in one of them light aircraft, and all that. They only have little engines, you know. We sat until about 10.30.

(David) Greenwood phoned from the Isle of Man to say Lynn should have arrived at Yeadon at 8.30. Worry turned into mild panic but before anything else happened in she walked. She had been for a drink with Dave Cutler at the Aero Club. Why couldn't she have phoned? Dad said: "This isn't like Lynn at all, is it?" Precisely. _____________.

Finished reading Anne Boleyn by Marie Louise Bruce and read Ghost Stories by M.R. James.

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Tuesday June 14, 1977

Left work at 12 unable to tolerate any more. Had a bite at home and then went down the lane to post David L's birthday card. Well, it's not exactly a birthday card more of a 'Congratulations on the Birth of Your Delightful Son' type of card.

Dave: 22nd birthday

The telephone engineer came and mended the phone (what else did you expect him to do?). No sooner is it repaired that I am bombarded with calls. Peter N rang to say Mama had contacted him from WALES this morning to enquire what had happened to us because the phone seemed to be ringing but nobody was answering. They're having bad weather and I have snatches of conversation mentioning Carnarvon, Llandudno and Pembroke, &c. Mother won't like Wales at all. The Welsh are a hideous, unfriendly race and the only decent Welshman is the prince of that name.

I then spoke to Carole and we decided - or perhaps I decided - not to go see the Barbra Streisand film on Thursday. No doubt it will be Oakwood Hall again and all that goes with it. Being a forthright, far-seeing couple we end the conversation not knowing what the hell we're doing.

I took afternoon wine with Edith and Ernest. Lend Edith my copy of 'Majesty'.

That night: Made my first visit to the Hare and Hounds at Menston since May 6. Martyn came up and we managed to get a lift from Naomi. Lynn manages very well behind the bar. She appears drawn and pale and lacking in that famous zest. Martyn didn't seem to notice anything odd. I told him _____________. A sad thing to have to say but inevitable. __________.

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Monday June 13, 1977

(Several paragraphs of sensitive family news.)

Sunday June 12, 1977

1st after Trinity. To the Commercial at 12 with Lynn, Martyn, Susan and Peter N. A sunny, bright day and we stood with our drinks in the car park. After a few drinks Lynn confided in me ______________.

Lynn.

Martyn went off to play golf at 1pm and we bought two bottles of wine for dinner and returned home where the drunkenness increased. I would never have believed this _______. Susan is well aware of what has been going on. She has suspected it for a while.

Lynn flaked out for 3 and I was at work for 5pm. Gave Sue and Pete a guided tour of the office then met Ursula who said I shouldn't really be working tonight. Stayed until 11.45 with an incredible headache. Lousy.




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Saturday June 11, 1977

Thunder, lightning, rain, hail - the bloody lot is brought down upon us. They do say that only people of lower intelligence allow the weather to depress them but today cannot have any other effect.

Princess Alice.

It was out of bed quite early to view the Trooping the Colour on tv. The crowds in the Mall look to have been static since Tuesday's jubilee and even the rain could not dampen the singing and the cheers of loyalty. Saw the RAF fly-past at 1pm. Princess Alice, Countess of Athlone was on the balcony. When Martyn came up at 1.30 we worked it out that the princess will be the oldest ever living member of the British royal family on July 15.

John comes up in his work gear this afternoon and within minutes he's changed into some of my clothes and we go - the three of us - to the Station on Henshaw Lane. He says Maria is entertaining Carole and Peter (Fogarty). I could have fallen through the bloody chair. John assumed that she had told me the full details of her 'other' arrangements and he showed surprise that Carole was out with me last night because Friday is Fogarty night. So too is Saturday and no doubt every other night except Thursday. I bet she was out with him until 11.30 last night then out with me until 2! God. I suppose I have nothing to be mad about. She hasn't lied, but I have been deceived. It's only a matter of weeks since she sat and laughed and said she did not believe in 'two timing' and believed in being utterly faithful. This little revelation just goes to show what shit she hurls at Tony - and he believes everything she says. John says Carole is the biggest liar he has ever met and he's always held this opinion.

Martyn stays to tea and we don't go out until 9.45 and watched tv with Susan and Peter until this disgustingly late hour. The four of us went to the Malt Shovel in Menston and then back home for more television - three of them with Chinese food and me with fish and chips.

Friday June 10, 1977

Carole phoned me at the office and apologised for her abominable behaviour last night. I accepted her apology and she kept repeating her apologies over and over again. She put it down to the atmosphere at Oakwood (Hall) and suggests going to the cinema to see 'A Star is Born' next Thursday.

She says she's sending something in the post. No doubt another apology. I feel sure she went out last night with every intention of causing trouble and anarchy - she's just like her revolting mother.

Phoned Tony this evening and he analysed the situation for me. Carole only behaves in such an antagonistic way, he says, because deep down inside she wants to behave in exactly the opposite way. Er, right. Rubbish if you ask me. The girl is just mucking me about. However, it is impossible to tell Tony that.

Within minutes he rings back to say Naomi and Carole want to know if we fancy an evening at Il Trovatore. I agree.  He laughs and says "what did I tell you?" Just what did he tell me? To the Bod with Tony & Martyn. Tony is quiet and reflective. From here we went with Michelle and Co to the Hare & Hounds at Heaton. Then on to the mortuary-like Il Trovatore. Linda is in with Denny and Naomi and Carole don't arrive until after12. She arrives with a new hair-style and looks stunning. I dragged her off to the balcony until 2. She won't let me kiss her and is extremely cool. She was still very apologetic about the Oakwood Hall incident but I still feel as though I'm playing the mouse to her cat.

Naomi brought us home. I prayed for our safety en route. When Naomi's had a few she's the maddest driver on the road.

Thursday June 9, 1977

Mum rang me at lunchtime to say she and Papa were leaving for Gloucestershire this afternoon. No idea when they'll be back. They phoned tonight (Lynn took the call) to say they were safely housed in Stratford-upon-Avon - town of the immortal Bard and all that. I shall never forget my day at Stratford with Dave L two or three years ago.

Oakwood Hall

A disastrous evening. Got home at 5.30 and found a note from Susan asking whether she could join Carole and I at Oakwood Hall. Readily agreed, of course.We met Carole at 7.45 and went to Bingley. Carole and I got on famously in the pub, but at Oakwood it got just like old times. I was having a chat with Peter N about politics and became aware of how sombre she had suddenly become. When I questioned her about it she snapped "you see Peter every night of the week - I expect all your attention on Thursdays". I went berserk and said it was hardly my fault that we only saw each other one night a week and accused her of seeking vengeance on me for what took place in May '76. She slapped my face. God only knows what Peter and Susan thought of it all. The fracas continued in the rear of Peter's car and we were still arguing at 2am. She was the one who picked the fight. I just wanted a pleasant night.

Wednesday June 8, 1977

Jubilee over and back to work. In keeping with tradition the first day back to work after the bank holiday is one reminiscent of a tropical heatwave. Someone up there must have it in for us, I fear.

The newspapers are full of jubilee articles. It is estimated that a million people were on the streets of London for yesterday's pageant. The Queen, if she's not doing so already, must be jumping for joy.

Carole phoned. She can't find any company taking parties to the Trooping of the Colour on Saturday. Thwarted yet again for the second year running. We're going to Oakwood Hall tomorrow for our weekly meeting. I suggested we might meet on Friday instead but she soon put a stop to that idea. Who will the lucky man be that night, I wonder? You can't tell me she leads a life of innocence from one Thursday to the next. Mind you, what else can I expect? Not much. Besides, I thought it was always the idea that I had a lady with interests other than myself? Carole's possessiveness during our last liaison virtually deadened the whole affair so now I should rejoice in the fact that she's far from besotted.

Tuesday June 7, 1977

A tremendous historic day. I had a restless night and alighted from my bed just after nine this morning. Took a seat near the television and remained in that position all day.

No words can adequately describe the pageant of the procession through London to St Paul's Cathedral by the Queen and the Duke in the State coach - not used since her coronation 24 years ago this month. The Queen was dressed in pink and looked amazing. In the cathedral, and later at the Guildhall, she seemed to be overcome with emotion and appeared 'lost' amidst it all - very unusual because I have never seen her show emotion at all. The crowds in the Mall were wondrous and the balcony scenes- in pouring rain - were magnificent. The Peter Lazenbys and Willie Hamiltons of this world have lost.

Balcony scene: June 7 1977

John and Maria called in this afternoon to see if someone could babysit for JPH tonight. They're going out with Molly and Jim tonight. (John says Jim won £40 on the horses yesterday). ______. Mum and Dad went down to Silverdale Drive at 7.15. Neither in boisterous mood.

Tony phoned and I told him that Il Trovatore was completely 'out' tonight due to lack of funds and I was faced with the prospect of a night alone. Lynn is working at the Hare. Sue and Peter are out. So just after 7.30 I took to my bath. Watched television. Yes, the edited highlights of the Jubilee with an excellent commentary by Tom Fleming, and at 11 a Laurence Oliver/Katharine Hepburn epic. To bed at 1am.

The close of a magnificent day of pageant, splendour and occasion. Let's hope that the Queen will be around in another 25 years time because Elizabeth is all that the United Kingdom can ever be.

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