Friday January 20, 1978

Snow, ice and generally an anti-social climate. I am going to join (Uncle) John in Lanzarote, Canary Islands.

David G.

Dave G makes a state visit to Pine Tops once again. The summer holiday is the main topic of the weekend conference. Poor David is more bald than ever.

We went to the Fox and Hounds where Pete M, Chris and Steve Hudson were assembled. They brought the news that they are not joining us abroad this year. Peter Aristotle Niarchos Mather Onassis, Junior cannot afford to go!! Obviously, I believe him. Chris has plans to go on a walking holiday in South Wales and visit an elderly maiden aunt in Canada. He too must have lost a slate or suddenly developed an aged attitude. Steve was his normal, pleasant, quiet self. _______. Martyn, we are told, is still in the running. ______. Home at 11:30 to a wine tasting session. We go to Bradford tomorrow to sort out the holiday 'problem'.


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Thursday January 19, 1978

Deep snow. Didn't get out of bed until after 11am. Was roped into bottling lager and Saki. We were joined by an ill-looking Edith. She asked me to look up 'blood pressure' for her in the medical dictionary. The poor girl suffers from this. I didn't read out the diagnosis. The technical terms would have scared the pants off her. Looking at her I cannot imagine her surviving much longer.

To Leeds at 4:00pm. A sore throat. I'm getting another bloody cold. YP uneventful. I managed to ring Dave G. He's coming tomorrow night for the weekend. Home at 12:15. The taxi fare came to £3.50. Blimey, am I worth it? Of course. To bed and read Dorothy L. Sayers until my eyelids closed on this funny old world.

-=-

Wednesday January 18, 1978

To Leeds Library. Got 'The Last Tudor King' by Hester W. Chapman; 'Whose Body?' by Dorothy L. Sayers (a Lord Peter Wimsey saga); The Scarlet Pimpernel Omnibus, by Baroness Orczy, and 'The Man Who Killed the King' by Dennis Wheatley. The pages from the four books torn out and laid end to end would stretch from here to Eritrea and back.

On the subject of Ethiopia, never shall I forgive them for smothering the aged Emperor with his own embossed Harrod's pillow. Retribution will be brought down on them who ended his Imperial Majesty's life.

Late Football Results:-

Ethiopia Athletic 0, Queen's Park Somalis 7
Jacques Chirac 8 Francois Mitterrand 0
Rene Lefebvre and Pierre Trudeau - Late Kick Off
Geoff  Boycott  v. Princess Margaret - postponed
Roy Hattersley 3 Airey Neave Wanderers 2
David Soul 16 Angie Dickinson 1
Shah of Persia All Stars 7 Rudolf Valentino's Knee 15



Goodnight.

Tuesday January 17, 1978

I went out to work at my usual hour and woke up eight hours later on my own doorstep with my hair ruffled and my clothing in a state of disarray  carrying in one hand a bloody axe (dripping blood all over the pathway) and bearing in the other blood stained hand the head of Miss Kathleen Rainford, a former librarian.

I must have flipped my lid behind a filing cabinet, or something. The police were on the scene within minutes and Assistant Chief Constable Ron Buttock, CID (Crime) formally charged me with unlawfully removing a librarian's head during library hours.

My five minute appearance at Otley Magistrates Court was one of a historic nature. The Lord Chancellor (defending) wept openly as Donald Best, JP, presiding magistrate, found me guilty on eight counts of head removing in office hours. Bail was refused and although reporting restrictions were not lifted, Mrs Doris Watkins skirt was.

Goodnight.

-=-

Monday January 16, 1978

No news from YTV. The swines have forgotten me, it seems. They'll regret this in years to come when I'm socking it to the universe. Perhaps I should try the BBC?

The YP is thoroughly boring today. Something on TV tonight about Myra Hindley. The revolting Earl of Longford is trying to get her paroled whilst Mrs West, mother of one of Hindley's victims, has collected 27,000 names on a petition to keep the bitch inside. I would willingly join a band of 'merry men' and go lynch Hindley is she were ever to step outside her plush, Holloway jail apartment. Surely, the rope was intended for fiends such as this?

To bed shortly after eleven. Sat reading. Dad says it's Uncle Bert's birthday tomorrow. Is he 50, or 51 perhaps? I think he was born in 1927.

-=-

Sunday January 15, 1978

2nd Sunday after Epiphany. Out of bed at 1:00pm to my rabbit luncheon. I feel really proud. Almost like a Stonehenge warrior must have felt on making his first kill for the table. Something very close to nature and instinctive about killing for ones nosh. It was fabulous too.

Townsend and Margaret.

This afternoon I continued my reading marathon and was just contemplating drifting off to sleep when Mum attracted my attention by suggesting we should go to see Auntie Mabel. We went at 7:00 o'clock. She's in fine fettle and ladens us with food and drink. We sat chatting until after 10.

Items in the news: A famous American politician has gone and died. His name escapes me for the minute. It's something like Lyndon Johnson or Horatio C. Wallace, III. Peter Townsend's first wife, Rosemary, went out  and married Lord Camden, a 80 year-old landowner. The horrid group captain is, at this very moment, spilling the beans on his affair with Princess Margaret. This is unforgivable of him and the desolate princess must be on the verge of ending it all. It is rumoured that Lord Snowdon will marry Mrs Lindsay-Hogg in the Spring.

-=-

Saturday January 14, 1978

Sun rises 08:01 Sun sets 16:19

Clementine: eye balls donated.

Out of bed at eleven not too worse for the amount of alcoholic beverage taken in last night. I found Dad inspecting the rabbit. He congratulated me on the kill. "A fine buck" is his professional verdict.

The morning papers reveal that the 'vandal' Lady Churchill donated her eye balls to medical science, and now some poor, unsuspecting soul is walking around with the eyes which saw more of Sir Winston than anybody else. I'm not sure I like this. It all rings of Baron Frankenstein. Very ghoulish. How long before famous singers pass on their voice boxes to carry on their musical talents after death? I always wanted to be a Beatle. Perhaps I could be first in the queue when Paul McCartney goes?

Shopping in Guiseley with Lynn. After a couple of hours we walked to the Station Hotel for a thirst quencher. Her wedding chatter is now at fever pitch. Blimey, it's only 34 weeks until the 'Big Day' so it's not exactly premature excitement.

Pete M phoned tonight but I explained how broke I am, and so that was that. A night at home, sitting like Jimmy Carter by my fireside. 'Starsky & Hutch' on the box too. Oh, how thoroughly delightful. Bloody Hell, no wonder the pubs are packed on Saturday nights. The only people to be found indoors on these long, wintry evenings are the crippled, bed-ridden and penniless. In case you're wondering, I fit into the last category. Sat and read the Scarlet Pimpernel. Watched Hedy Lamarr in a 1940 epic. Bed afterwards.




-=-

Friday January 13, 1978

Friday the Thirteenth. Can't remember whether today is supposed to be lucky or unlucky. One thing's for sure, it was the latter sort of day for Auntie Mabel. In Pudsey whilst out shopping this morning she bumped into her cousin Walter Basham (who is, or was, therefore, also my cousin). She remarked how ill he appeared and he replied: "Yes, Mabel, I don't feel too good" and without further ado he keeled over and died there and then in the street. Mabel is heartbroken. But that's the way to go though. Surely, better than lingering in some disinfected hospital ward for weeks on end?

Carrington's, Harrogate.

This evening Pete M came and we went to the Fox and Hounds. Joined there by Martyn and Chris. Tony was out with _______. From the Fox things went rapidly down hill. Peter wanted to go to Carrington's in Harrogate (where Lynne and I went a couple of times) and so this is where we had to go. A complete flop, so bad that at 12 we shot across the country to Oakwood Hall. I was startled to see how much the place has gone down since my last visit. It was really rough and I wouldn't have minded too much but for the fact that the three of us (Chris had gone home) were dressed up to the nines. Afterwards we dropped Martyn off at Ilkley and came back over the moors. The only profitable thing which took place all night occurred on Hawksworth Moor. Yes, a rabbit fell foul of Peter's van, and it's corpse was duly snatched up and carried off to Pine Tops in readiness for the Sunday dinner. Peter was shaken by the experience. He's not the killing type.

-=-

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.

-=-

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.

-=-

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.

-=-

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.

-=-

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. ________.



-=-

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'.


-=-

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.

-=-

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.'



-=-

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.

-=-

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.


-=-

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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