Thursday January 12, 1978

Horrible snow. To the YP with Jim and Jennie Rawnsley. I do believe that it is exactly one year to the day since the snow caused me to be three hours travelling home from Leeds. Let me say now that today was very much the same.

Churchill by Graham Sutherland.

The nation heard today that Clementine Churchill destroyed the portrait of Sir Winston by Graham Sutherland shortly after it was painted in 1954.  I find this infuriating and disgusting.  It's only twelve months since the old cow was moaning about having to part with her personal belongings in order to make ends meet. The picture (by Mr Sutherland) would have been worth something in excess of £50,000 today. Oh dear, so poor old Clem couldn't afford to pay the soddin' gas bill? Hard luck, that's what I say.

Tonight Jim and Margaret Nason came up and we drank Saki and such like until after 1am, or was it 2:00? Poor Margaret was blasted out of her mind. Sue and Pete joined us and we toasted their fourth 'anniversary' which falls tomorrow. I hope he intends making a honest woman of her. It would be nice to see my sister married this century at least.

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Wednesday January 11, 1978

Snow, gales and blizzards today. Went to the YP feeling peculiarly industrious and worked without a lunch break until 4:30. Marita brought me to Rawdon which was a help. I ate like a horse on getting home and felt bloated and uncomfortable afterwards.

More 'gush' in the morning papers about Prince Andrew and his 'sweetheart'. Editors throughout the kingdom must have tired of the firemen's strike and the prime minister's visit to India because front page news for a royal prince is quite rare these days.

Ernest Bishop: assassinated.

Reading 'The Scarlet Pimpernel' by that baroness. I really should have read this at 14 or 15 but in those days - Oh how far they seem off now - I was into the heavy volumes of reminiscences of lofty 18th century geezers and had no time for childish fiction.

A play starring Hugh Lloyd on BBC2 caught my attention. This was followed by Deborah Kerr in 'The Prisoner of Zenda', Oh and the assassination of Ernest Bishop on 'Coronation Street' shook the entire nation. The Queen has sent a personal message of sympathy to the surviving cast.

I intended having a bath but by midnight I was no nearer my watery end and I sat listening to the roar of a 70 mph gale on Hawksworth Lane. The late TV news featured our seasonal weather as the main item of information and Mama quivered from head to foot. My God! If we can't have a spot of nasty weather in January when can we? What do they down at the meteorological office expect? A bloody heatwave or something? A sandstorm or a drought? Weather, and talking about it, is the British disease.

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Tuesday January 10, 1978

Snow today. The first of the year. By lunchtime in Leeds though it was quite free of abominable white flakes and a blustery wind blew instead.

Bumped into Sharon and Susan Kirk in town. They are the granddaughters of my grandmother's sister, Aunt Annie Kirk. Sharon I have always liked and she offers to give me a lift home from Leeds any time I may need one. She works for the Civil Service at Darley House. She mentioned the photos I took of Auntie Annie & Uncle John kissing last month.

This evening Martyn called in at 6:30 for an hour and took away the ring which Uncle Harry gave me. It needs repairing. The ring originally belonged to my great-grandfather, John Rhodes, who was given it on his 21st birthday, in June, 1887. Martyn's going to see what he can do to restore it to its former glory.

Hey, I have mentioned that Naomi's invited me to her 21st birthday party on January 28? Yes, she gave me the invitation on Friday. I really like Naomi more and more. You could put the two of us in a boat and dump us in the mid Atlantic and I'd be quite happy.

I have decided that, out of protest, I definitely now, or in future, won't read a book on King James II. The barbarous way he butchered the Duke of Monmouth and his supporters nauseates me. Had I been living in 1685 I'd have been out on Hawksworth Lane yelling for 'Good King Monmouth'. God Rest his Soul.

Prince Andrew is escorting a fellow inmate from his school (Gordonstoun) to Sandringham where the Royal Family have been holidaying. The girl is Kirsty Richmond, a 17 year-old, and the opinion of the Daily Mail is that HRH is taking after his big brother. 1978 is going to be the year in which Prince Andrew makes his debut in the Press as a whoring, wenching Casanova. As if we don't have enough of this with the Prince of Wales and Prince Michael. The poor boy will have this sort of intrusion every time he's seen within a hundred yards radius of a female - until the day he marries. Poor soul, and even after he marries the rumours and stories will go on.

Saw a Glenda Jackson film based on a book by H.E. Bates and retired at 1:00.

Monday January 9, 1978

New Moon 04.00

Windy, wet, but bright. No news of my future in the YTV world, but I didn't really expect any communication so early. Bored to death at the YP - they got on my nerves today, even Sarah. Mind you, Sarah and I regularly have our differences of opinion which don't come to much. After all the girl is a Scorpio and I am Aries, so what do you expect?

Lynn and Dave have bought (I think) a home at 7, Lawn Road, Burley in Wharfedale. It cost £8,200 or something in that region. Lynn is over the Moon about it, but she says it needs about £1,000 spending on it by way of repairs and general improvements. My little sister purchasing property! Won't things be quiet when September rolls up? Lynn makes one Hell of a racket at home and I fear the house will be like a cathedral without her. Lawn Road is a stone's throw from cousin Dorothy's ale house at the White Horse.

Dave G phoned. They may be over on Saturday from Stockport, but I shudder at the very thought because I have no money. It may mean me attacking the funds in the Lynn and David honeymoon kitty in order to make ends meet. Oh God, where am I going to get the money for a deposit for the holiday? Sod it.

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Sunday January 8, 1978

1st Sunday after Epiphany. When we arrived home last night Mum and I squabbled about something but this morning all was forgotten in the haze. She can be very irate at times. I'd barely finished breakfast when Ernest came round to use the telephone. This simple, quite small action by our venerable old neighbour sparked off something quite Bacchanalian. Yes, nothing less than an orgy to make the orgies of the Emperor Caligula look like one of Andy Pandy's tea parties. I was ordered to go collect Edith after half an hour and Mum, Dad, Ernest, Edith and I began drinking lager and playing records in the dining room. It endured until 5:30. It was dark when we eventually emerged.  Sue, who had closed herself off in the lounge to concentrate on her knitting, was on the verge of collapse from the noise of the merry making. The funniest part of the day was Ernest attempting to do a Greek dance which involved waving a handkerchief in the air. Edith insisted on flashing her pale, thin thighs and suspender belt. We howled in hysterics for ages afterwards. The four of them have decided to go off for a weekend to some poor, unsuspecting seaside town in about a month's time. It may well be Whitby.

At 6:00 Pete went to Harry Ramsden's and we devoured fish and chips heartily. The dear Blackwells departed afterwards, bless them, and I collapsed in a chair. This riotous living is no good.

Watched a Walter Matthau film on the BBC and retired to bed before 12 with James, Duke of Monmouth. Looking at the large pile of books by my bed I don't envisage getting through them all. James II may have to be dumped, I fear.

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Saturday January 7, 1978

Sun rises 08.05 Sun sets 16.09.

David (Lawson) and I out on the town again. At 9:30pm we joined Sue, Peter and the Nason family at the Menston Arms. We felt slightly uneasy about it because we don't really know the bunch but we soon joined in. It made David's night when the prawn man arrived (we laughingly referred to him as 'the mussel man'). We enjoyed it so much that I think that in future when coming home Dave will make the Menston Arms his local. We even played Dominoes. A 40 year-old female 'Punk Rocker' sat next to me and I was fascinated by the spectacle of all that flab and masses of safety pins, &c.

Peter's Uncle Bob (or Mr Sanderson to us) was roaring drunk and shouting all night long. David was amused. He likes Mrs Nason. With the winnings from the Dominoes we drank Pernod, rum, brandy, as well as the usual ales. By 11 we were quite pissed. Back to 58, Fieldhead Road, for the party. David left after devouring a large pork pie. He spent some time teasing 'Joey' Mrs Nason's budgie. According to Mum we over-stayed our welcome and I was intoxicated. I sat with an old boy discussing grouse shooting and smoking his cigs. He was interested in the Duchess of Devonshire's connections with Bolton Abbey. Once again, some of the ugliest women in Aireborough and indeed the whole of West Yorkshire were present. Like rhinoceros they were. ________.



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Friday January 6, 1978

Epiphany. Delivered my application form back to YTV and all I can do now is wait and hope. The girls were ever so curious when I left the office at noon and headed in the direction of the TV headquarters. They suspect I'm having a clandestine meeting with someone. Good, I'll keep them guessing.

Toy Womble...

Tonight David L phoned and we decided to go out to the Fox & Hounds. It was just like old times with just the two of us having a drink and a chat. I am always so happy and at ease when David is around. He is a real true friend. Chris, Pete M, Steve Hudson, Martyn and Tony came in later on followed by Laura Pattison (nee Butchart) and husband, Dave. Chatted to Tony. _______. At 11 they all shot off to Oakwood Hall and Dave and I paid a visit to John and Maria's. They were entertaining George and Jane, but they left on our arrival. David can be delightfully malicious on occasions. He told Maria that he hoped she wouldn't be jealous that was intending to go to Lynn & Dave's wedding when he hadn't bothered to turn up at her and John's! Laughed and tittered, we did. Maria gave David a massive quantity of vodka and me some revolting coffee wine which came from Dad. We stayed until after 1:00am and David played happily with JPH's toy 'Womble'.


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Thursday January 5, 1978

_.Received an application form from YTV. Filled in the details tonight including a list of my exam results, and a pathetic sight they are indeed.

At lunchtime I went to the library. Got books on James, Duke of Monmouth by Bryan Bevan; King James II by Jock Haswell; 'Whose Body?' by Dorothy L. Sayers and 'The Scarlet Pimpernel' by Baroness Orczy. Tonight I read a good deal of the Monmouth book. He is of course an ancestor of the Dukes of Buccleuch and of Lady Alice Montagu Douglas Scott, mother of the Duke of Gloucester, and an aunt of the Queen. Don't quite understand why Charles II elevated his bastard son to such rank. Did the King have the idea of making the duke his heir but at some stage changed his mind? The King's Roman Catholic sympathies naturally endeared him to his brother and rightful heir, the Duke of York. It is quite a few years since I looked at the Stuart period. My sympathies are very much with the two Charleses, but James II leaves me quite cold. Neither am I fond of the dour William III or the fat, white Queen Anne.

Saw 'Top of the Pops' and had a glass of cider with Mum and Dad. It was incredibly strong and almost blew my head off.

Retired to bed with the Monmouth book relatively early.

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Wednesday January 4, 1978

_.The Christmas tree came down tonight and the festival of Yuletide is well and truly done for another year.

Marita: premonition.

Marita gave me a lift to Rawdon from Wellington Street and she told me that her grandfather had died on Dec 27, and that she had a premonition of the event whilst at David's on Boxing Day. How can such a phenomena be explained? When the nursing home phoned on the morning after the party she knew before answering the call just what the news would be. Weird really.

_______. You'll be pleased to know my scars have just about healed over. My nose is slightly marked at the bridge but elsewhere is mended. Dom Melville's final interview with my assailant was a travesty of justice. In fact he took the side of the lad who assaulted me, saying he (Kirk) 'is a nice, quiet lad.'



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Tuesday January 3, 1978

_.Circumcision (transference) Bank Holiday (Scotland)
Today is Circumcision Day. Not for me though.
Jacqui knocked on my bedroom door at about 6:45am and I lay shuddering listening to the racket being made outside. Thunder, hail, snow and gales - all on Hawksworth Lane. We ate and drank nothing and went out to face the elements. I saw her safely to the London coach and she left just after 8:30.

I had a change of attitude towards work today and put it down to the fact that I have every intention of leaving. Even now, the personnel manager at YTV may be wording a begging letter to the compiler of these simple diaries. Who knows?

Jack Jones: Blenheim Palace?

Spent the day sorting out the New Year's Honours List. Just five revolting peerages, numerous BEMs to hundreds of thousands of canteen ladies throughout the vast Commonwealth. Jack Jones, the left-wing, militant, communist trade union leader becomes Lord Warden of the Cinque Ports, a Field Marshal and a Knight Grand Cross of the Order of the Crown of India. I'm surprised they haven't given Jones Blenheim Palace as a reward for his services to the nation.

I attempted to buy a volume for my 1978 journal today but failed miserably. I couldn't find one to match this anywhere. Do I foresee the end of this partnership? Just look at what we've been through together since January, 1973. Five, hard industrious years. Oh yes we have laughed a lot, but we have wept together too. No, I cannot allow it to end like this. On pay day (January 5) I'll buy a diary whether it resembles this WH Smith's one or not.

Retired to bed at 12:30am with nothing to read. Tomorrow I will go to the library. Perhaps a bit of Dumas again. Aaarrghh.

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Monday January 2, 1978

_.Bank Holiday in England, Ireland, Scotland and Wales. Mum & Dad's birthday. They come round so quick these days. We bought them more Royal Albert (china). Yes, a coffee pot this time. Mum intends having a special cabinet erected in some prominent position in which to display her china collection. A dinner service is next on the list.

Birch Tree at Wilsill.

A warm, almost Spring-like day. With gusto we all went (Mum, Dad, Jacqui, me, Lynn, Dave, Sue, Pete and Chris Baker) to the Birch Tree Inn at Wilsill for a nosh and a slight booze. Mr & Mrs Baker were supposed to join us but Dave accidentally sent them off on a wild goose chase around North Yorkshire. Those of us who did manage to find the place did have a good time.

Tonight Jacqui and I went out with Sue and Peter to the Commercial. To be honest I'm bored to death of booze, but one must keep up appearances. From the pub we went on a tour of picturesque Yorkshire Chinese take-aways, where we bought curry, chips, &c. The greed was on a phenomenal scale.


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Sunday January 1, 1978

_.1st after Christmas - New Year's Day. Yes, at midnight I was in Edith's garden with a solitary Persian cat. Alone with just my thoughts of 1977. They didn't come to much really. Minutes later I was inside being kissed, fondled and embraced.

Edith & Ernest: not like OAPs.

From here we made a convoy to Pine Tops where the family had finally arrived. Mum, a bit sozzled, is with Christine and Len ( a couple of her buddies). The party got under way nicely but I detected a more reserved atmosphere this year and a falling of of the numbers attending. But I enjoyed it all immensely.

I won't bore you with the party details because when you've read about one you've read about them all, don't you think? I got to my bed at some time after 6:00am. _____________.

Woke up at 12 or so. Jacqui and I went to Edith & Ernest's at 2 and stayed until after 5. She thinks Ern is really interesting. I thought she would. The Blackwells aren't like OAPs at all. He reminds me of Uncle Albert. Back home for a nosh and then watched the film 'Nicholas & Alexandra'. Jacqui was bored by it.

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Saturday December 31, 1977

_.Jacqui and I went down to Guiseley and bought a birthday card for Mum and Dad. I chose a nice one without a revolting, soppy rhyme in it. I'm very particular about my choice of greeting cards. We then went to the Yorkshire Rose for a couple of hours. ____. It began to rain on leaving the pub and so I took her to John's for refuge only to find the house deserted. _____.

Pine Tops, Hawksworth Lane.

The party started tonight at the Hare & Hounds. Martyn and his girlfriend joined us. In came Christine Dibb and Graham, Maria, Libby, Jimmy, John, Sue, Peter N, Chris, Steve Hudson, Lynn, Dave B, Dave L, George and Jane, Nason's pals, MM and Marita, &c. Lynn was dressed in dungarees and wearing specs, one of my shirts and a tie! They all got on very well with Jacqui. _____. Libby Macdonald looked ghastly. No sign of CB or Carole. At 11:45pm a break away party, led by me, returned to Pine Tops where, to my horror, I discovered my key was locked in the house and I was locked outside. Where was Mum and Dad? They were at the Commercial drinking Southern Comfort and making merry. It was very embarrassing for me. But in a flash I knew what to do. Edith and Ernest's of course.  Armed with sherry and other obscene drinks about ten of us 'dropped in' on the dear couple. We all toasted the New Year with them as the clocks were striking 12 and I was locked outside, as is the custom, with Dmitri the Persian cat. Through the window I could see Marita and Ernest locked in a tight embrace and a host of jovial faces drinking David's cheap sherry. Oh dear, it's 1978 now.

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Friday December 30, 1977

_.Met Jacqui at 4:30pm and, coincidentally, we spotted David and Mr Lawson conveniently parked at traffic lights on Wellington Street. Ferried home right to the door. Dave says he isn't going out tonight but he'll be on the scene tomorrow.

Jacqui looked very well. She has a new hairstyle. We do get on extremely well. At home we laughed over the photos of her last visit. Candle lit dinner with Mum, Dad and Susan.

From the sumptuous dining table we escaped with Sue, Pete, Janet (Simon) and Chippy to the Fox & Hounds. Joined by Martyn, Pete M and Chris.  __________________.

We came home and watched TV.

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Thursday December 29, 1977

_.I have applied for a job in the reference library at YTV. Yes, I put a letter together and sealed the envelope and have every intention of leaving the YP if I'm accepted. Four years is long enough in a dead end job. It's about time I joined the 'rat race' and earned lots of money. In 15 years time when I'm an OBE and making regular appearances on the Morecambe & Wise Show I bet the management at the YP will be kicking themselves.

Eric Sykes in Charley's Aunt.

Saw Eric Sykes in 'Charley's Aunt' which was good. Dom Melville, QC, came to see me. Do I have a cat in Hell's chance of obtaining damages from my assailant? Dom says he will do everything in his power to find out but bringing an assault case against the bounder (Kirk) may mean that I too could also be bound over to keep the Queen's peace. Me! And all I did was to fall over and bleed quietly! No chance. Anyway, I do have qualms about dragging it through the courts. I don't fancy being dragged in chains before Donald Best, JP, and neither do I relish the thought of reading my name in the pages of my dear newspaper. If Dom can simply frighten the yob to death I shall be eternally happy. Dom says he will go see Kirk on Sunday night, and so he'll be quaking for New Year.

Watched a ghost story and went, laughing, to bed.

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Wednesday December 28, 1977

_.Ghastly day at the YP and so I'll say no more. However, John's party tonight made up for it. Feeling decidedly Bohemian I clad myself in a collarless shirt and braces and ruffled up my hair and reintroduced that glazed glint to my disgustingly attractive eyes. Lynne Mather was there. Her reaction on seeing me was to exclaim: "Oh Michael! Haven't you let yourself go?" Let myself go indeed.  It proved to be the punch line of the whole evening. Poor Lynne looked quite well really and she seemed to fluctuate between David L and MM. It's very unusual for Dave to fall for the charms of any female, but a definite warming towards Lynne was obvious. Denise and Marita on good form.

Lynne Mather.

Helen and Graham were the best. I didn't realise until this Christmas just how much I miss Helen. Two years ago we were always in the pub together, invariably bringing the place down and seeing her again has brought these memories flooding back.

Maria was very drunk. She banged about on the piano, cig in mouth, destroying Christmas Carols.

The whole thing fizzled out long before I wanted it to. Jimmy Macdonald reckons he's a wild boozer, but when it all boils down to it he's an average drinking man of moderate nocturnal habits. Even John danced. By 3:00am it was over.

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Tuesday December 27, 1977

Bank Holiday in England, Ireland and Wales.

I failed to mention that Helen (the Mrs Helen Malin) and I had another bet yesterday. After paying her the £1 note for 1975 bet we placed another wager. She says Her Majesty will abdicate by January 1, 1981. I have obviously won this one. She (Helen, not the Queen) has moved to Peterborough and a four bedroomed house. I'm invited whenever I fancy going.

Up at 9:30 and cleared the devastation with Dave. Sandra and Miss LD are smoking and lounging like Roman whores whilst we slave. Dave taped some of my records and I made breakfast. I was home by 11:30. No hangover or touch of the squelches. The Lawson coffee liqueur usually loosens everything nicely.

Spent the day at home chiefly discussing the events of last night with the girls. I do love David's Christmas parties.

(Uncle) John, Sheila and Valerie came at 6:30 and for six or seven hours we sampled the wine and forced food down ourselves. Disgusting really. (Uncle) John became greatly pissed and was very amusing. He invited us all to his Canary Island home and even suggested to Lynn & Dave that they should honeymoon there. Good, eh? The only sad thing about all this is that Windsor will never be the same again. Valerie is nice. To bed at 2:00am with the horror of work stretching before me. Ghastly. Tomorrow will be hideous I know.

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Monday December 26, 1977

Bank Holiday in England, Ireland, Scotland and Wales.

Dave.

David's Christmas party. For the first time in many years Mr & Mrs L(awson) haven't gone to Blackpool for the Yuletide festivities, but instead they spend the night at Sandra's.  The event went off with the usual bang. All the gang turned up except CB who is once again having boyfriend bother (Oh God).  Mr______made his usual quip about my dancing, and so I got my own back when he was preparing to leave. He and _____(who was surly, morose and introverted) left together and before a large audience in the kitchen I quipped: "Ay, Ay, off for our traditional screw on the Chevin, are we?" Tee Hee. Sandra was grotesquely pissed and I fear some of her lustre has faded. Linda D______ was present. A bit of a tart, I fear. _____.

Slept in my usual rooms at Tennyson Street. God knows what time I eventually crashed out.

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Sunday December 25, 1977

Christmas Day. Santa Claus and all that. Merry Christmas to you all! Up at approx. 10:00am to open my presents. The bulk of my gifts consist of underpants and socks. I don't care.

John, Maria and JPH came at 2 and stayed until 4. JPH was bewildered by all the fuss and wept towards the end. Poor soul. Gt-Auntie Annie and Gt-Uncle John Kirk came for ten minutes (visiting son Raymond on Southway). I gave them the photographs I took on Dec 14.

Helen Mirren.

We eventually dined in great style at 5:00pm. Feeling bloated some 90 minutes later, and whilst everyone else slept, I decided on the novel idea of gluing photographs in a new photo album. A strange Christmas pastime probably, but anything is better than the Moscow State Circus and Angela Rippon on the TV.

Julie Ege.

TR7

This evening I sat drinking shandy by the TV set. A couple of boring films later I retired to bed bearing my pile of items of male underwear. Ah well, you can't win 'em all, Michael. Perhaps next year I'll get the TR7 and a night out with Helen Mirren and Julie Ege. Merry Christmas!

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Saturday December 24, 1977

_.Got up this morning to assess my wounds. I'll probably need plastic surgery and by the look of things it will affect my fan club membership. Oh, it's terrible. I've buggered my hand too. How will I battle through my Christmas dinner?

Sarah: revolted by my injuries.

Before going downstairs I had to ask Susan where I had been and exactly how I had acquired my injuries. She told my coldly. Oh, I am a fool.

My apologies were accepted by Mum and Dad and he went off to Otley (Police Station) to deal with the swine, or at least find something out. I believe my assailant was only 16 years-old.

Sarah came over at 8 and we, the whole family, went to the Hare & Hounds. Sarah is quiet and I put it down to my injuries. Am I so disfigured that Sarah is revolted?

The atmosphere in the pub is not what I would call festive. In fact most people seem quite sombre. No doubt it's because old age is creeping up on the group and crushing the lustre of yuletide joy from our poor minds.

Sarah, pleading exhaustion, retired at 11:30. Back to Pine Tops with the whole family. Maria brought her Scottish cousin, Marian along too. But, possibly because of my condition, I just felt morose and dismal. Tired even. At 2:00am I stunned the revellers by announcing my retirement.

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