Friday July 14, 1978

I had very little sleep. My shoulders are greeny yellow, and pouring with guck. My first action today was to consult Dr Chippy. He came to my room, clad only in his underpants, and carrying a tube of magic, white powder, a series of needles and anti-septic cream. I almost fainted. He burst my remaining blisters and then we made our way to the bar to get properly anaesthetised.

Yesterday "Doctor" Chippy was the hero of the hour on the beach when he put a dislocated shoulder back into position following a 'tug~of~war' accident on the beach. He was immediately acclaimed as the "Beach Party Doctor" and Pam, for one, looked at him with doe~eyed wonderment and affection assuring his chances with her this night.

Why is it that women fall for medical men? Even men like Chippy who only look after mental patients?

I met Jacq a year ago today in the El Capone Bar, or was it the Pavement?

-=-

Thursday July 13, 1978

Beach party again. It's more of a rip off this year than ever with virtually no booze and Rick behaving like Adolf Hitler. Susis, bless her, says quite openly that Rick literally has "no balls". However, Gus and I have decided that he's got a brown painted hollow false leg down which he dangles all his equipment because quite frankly he does seem to be lacking in the trouser department. His voice isn't particularly high pitched, and by repute he seems to have success laying the female talent.

Sue enjoyed the boat trip and hit it off with Jed who called her "Skipper" (she was champ of the skipping contest which took place on the beach).

I rubbed oil into my shoulders (they'd peeled), and played around with a dog on the sand which had pinched one of my sandals. I was slightly sore. Coming back on the boat we got chatting with some ladies ~ one called Shelley ~ and we laughed about a couple sitting close by who were performing strange and wonderful things beneath a towel.

Later we met the girls at the El Capone and I latched onto Shelley. Gus's girl was really pretty and looked like an Edwardian gaeity girl. We took them to the Kings Bar and the Extasis. All was going well and then in a moment of passion Shelley grabbed my shoulders and green slime and pus oozed forth and squelched over my shirt. I was in absolute agony.


-=-

Wednesday July 12, 1978

Orangemen's Day

Bank Holiday Northern Ireland

After deposting Tina at her hotel and arranging to meet her at 10pm tonight I drifted back to the S'Estanyol and changed into my beach wear and flat cap and went out into the sun.

Sue and Pete came down for breakfast and discovered me ~the solitary sunbather ~ quite alone on the sand. Dave came down later and suggested going for a drink. What a bloody good idea. We went to Hilary's cafe and knocked back pints of beer in the shade of a palm tree for the morning.

After lunch we moved to the bar on the beach. I was sloshed out of my brains by now. After all, I'd had no sleep and this Jagermeister is something of an unknown quantity. Pam and Rick were in the bar. They think we are pissed all the time.

I was in no fit state to meet Tina and at her hotel she played 'hard to get' and said she was wasn't leaving the hotel until midnight and going straight to the Playboy club. I waved bye bye to this one. Nobody mucks me about. So once again I'm playing the field. Once again this delectable human being is unattached and on his own.

-=-

Tuesday July 11, 1978

I think we went by boat to Cala Conta. Previous holidays have never been quite so hot as this one. It's unbearable.

Tonight Gus, Chippy and I ended up in Es Paradis again, but when Chippy fell in love and asked one of the local women to marry him I'd had enough and proceeded to set out on foot in a homeward direction. It was after 3am anyway.

Wending my way across San Antonio I had the fortune to overtake what I mistook to be a party of German ladies, and as I passed by the ring leader, in husky tones, said: "Keep on swinging, man", at which they all fell about in hysterics. I immediately set upon them, and they linked arms with me and I escorted them to their hotel. A taxi came to a grinding halt and out leapt Gus and Chippy, who accosted a couple of the girls for themselves. However, I hung on to the attractive spokesperson called Tina with the deep voice, who informed me that they are in fact Dutch.

We went with the ladies to their hotel and Tina emerged into the garden ( or whatever you call the bit of patio around the swimming pool) with a bottle of Jagermeister, a Dutch liqueuer I think. After half an hour or so we were thrown out because of the noise and we took the bottles to the beach and did Travolta-like dancing on the sand. Horribly pissed. Chippy, Gus and their ladies disappeared leaving Tina and I alone to do a spot of of bathing. At 8am I took her back to her hotel.

-=-

Monday July 10, 1978

Chippy decided to take out a bloody massive motor bike and take me round the island. I wanted to see Portinatx to give Lynn & Dave a report. We hired one for the day for £7 each and shot off to the S'estanyol to persuade the others to get one.

-=-

Sue and Dave decided to spend the duration in the bar getting pissed, which was fair enough, and Gus and Pete took out a pair of smaller bikes, and we set off in the direction of Ibiza town. I wasn't impressed with the place, and neither was I all that happy about hanging on the back of Chippy as he hurtled at 60 or so m.p.h. across the rough, unmade roads of Ibiza.

From Ibiza Town we headed out on the Portinatx but stopping at a cafe we were told we were 50 kilometres away and we decided over a Coca Cola that our fuel supplies wouldn't stretch that far. We headed back to San Antonio.

By lunchtime I'd had enough of motor cycling and called it a day. It had been exciting but I had had sufficient. He drove like Eddie Kidd with his pants on fire. Chippy cleared off for the remainder of the afternoon.

Sue and Dave were sunbathing at the hotel and not in the least pissed like they said they would be.

Sunday July 9, 1978

7th Sunday after Trinity

At about 10am we decided it was much too hot to lay around on a beach all day and somebody suggested that we might hire push bikes and go for a tour of the island. We rolled up at the bike place and were fitted up with machines (except Dave) and we shot off in the direction of Port d'es Torrent.

Tonight a wonderful thing happened. In the El Capone bar we bumped into Pam, from Nottingham, who worked with Rick in the 1976 season. We leapt around screaming and laughing and made our ritual trip to Es Paradis. She took an immediate fancy to Chippy, whom she insisted on calling 'Gerald' or 'Gerry'. They wandered off together leaving Gus and I leaping around like fools on the dance floor. Oh it was great.

-=-

Saturday July 8, 1978

Sun rises 04:53 Sun sets 21:18

Ode to Ibiza

Ibiza, you are an island covered in sand,
I visit you every year,
You aren't very big,
and neither are you grand,
but to me you are very dear

I've often walked along the beach,
and gazed upon your women,
to them there's a few things I could teach,
like ridin', fishin' and swimmin'

Oh, that's enough

M.L.R.

Friday July 7, 1978

The flight was without incident other than Peter's blunder with the seat numbers which had us trailing up and down the aircraft aimlessly looking for seats 9A, B, C & D. Sue slept for part of the journey, & I don't think she enjoyed it. The little pet looked worried.

The time of our arrival escapes me but by 5:30 or 6am we were at the Hotel S'Estanyol waiting in the foyer to be allocated our rooms. Chippy and Gus walked out of the front door and onto the beach to indulge in a spot of nude bathing.

-=-

Thursday July 6, 1978

Last day at the YP for a fortnight.

At home I said goodbye to Mum and Dad and Lynn. They'd been to say farewell to Edith and Ernest, who leave for Paignton next week. No doubt we'll see them in September.

At 6:30 this evening went with Sue and Pete to the Shoulder of Mutton where we met Chippy & Gus for a few drinks before leaving for Stockport.

We went to Stockport at about 8 and stayed at the Hollywood for the evening. Bill and Garry made an appearance and once again my hair style was the focal point of the conversation.

I do not intend writing page after page for the two weeks I am away. Traditionally I write from notes as my journal hasn't travelled with me since 1976 when I'm sure _____________.

When the pub closed we hung around for about half an hour and then piled into taxis to Manchester Airport. Checked in at midnight. The sexy, blond air hostess informed us that the flight would be leaving slightly EARLY.

-=-

Wednesday July 5, 1978

New Moon 10:50

Packed the suit cases and generally prepared for the exodus. Last night Christine said my perm made me look affluent, or was it effluent?

Ode to my Perm

Once you were straight and hanging down,
But you don't any more,
In fact you're all curly now.
Blimey, Mum says I look like Kevin Keegan,
but Dad thinks I'm a puff.

Ode to Kevin Keegan

Once you were straight and hanging down,
But you aren't any more,
In fact you're all curly now,
Blimey, my Mum says you look like me,
But Dad prefers Plymouth Argyle.

Fin.

-=-

Tuesday July 4, 1978

Out tonight with Christine at about 8:45. John came at about 8 in a new car, the type of which seems to have slipped my memory. It's big and green anyway.

He's selling the MG for £450 which is ridiculous. I wouldn't give him more than a couple of hundred for it. Christine had a giggle with him before our departure to the Fox & Hounds.

Jimmy Mac was in with bloody ____________. She considers herself to be such a superior young lady. _______________.

From the Fox & Hounds we did the usual ritual of the Hare & Hounds, the White Cross and finally the Crown at Yeadon. Philip was in the Drop and was sceptical about CB's Jersey project. He doesn't believe she'll do it, and even if she does go he says he has no intention of stopping her. She borrowed £1 from him to get some drink in.

We came back home quite pissed at 11:30 and had a few more drinks. She took a House of Holroyd shirt as a gift from me and left at about 12:30.

CB bought me a big pencil from her Jersey holiday and a badge with 'Jersey Tom' on it. To went off to bed quite canned.

-=-

Monday July 3, 1978

The same applies to Monday July 3. It was quite an ordinary day. I ventured to the YP and did my usual thing for the national output and received one or two phone calls. One was most definitely from Christine. We arranged to go out tomorrow, probably to the Drop. She wants to inform Philip of her intended flight to the Channel Islands. Another phone call came from an excited Dave G.

Ode to Princess Michael of Kent

Marie-Christine is your name,
I've seen you on the telly,
If I were the Prince I'd take my head
and lay it across your belly,

Roman Catholics can't get divorced,
This is a crying shame.

The Pope should mind his own business,
and his Archbishops should do the same.

-=-

Sunday July 2, 1978

6th Sunday after Trinity

Ah well, you can't win 'em all. To be perfectly honest with you it isn't July 2nd at all. It is some considerable time later and here I am sunning myself in the garden with this diary reclining on my ancient, much sought after knees.

The sun is beating down. You should be able to work out the date from the last statement. The sun only shone on three occasions in the summer of the year of Grace 1978.

Cathleen Nesbitt has just been on the radio talking about Rupert Brooke. Phone the BBC and inquire as to when the broadcast was made and you've cracked it.

However, to get back to July 2. It was Sunday and I did not venture far. I do recall going to Lawn Road with my services and definitely recall devouring a Sunday lunch which wasn't at lunchtime at all so I suppose you'd call it dinner.

Saturday July 1, 1978

Sun rises 04:47 Sun sets 21:21 Dominion Day (Canada)

Jacq and I woke up on Grant's settee surrounded by wine glasses and clothing. A guy was asleep in the hallway and another poor sod was stood in the bathroom unable to decide whether or not to vomit. Jacq collected her handbag and shoes from Grant's bedroom and I heard further squeals of laughter. About 18 people were in one bed.

Out we went into the rain at 9:30. Silly sods were queueing across the road to see the Test match. The Pakistanis are, I think, the offending, marauding team.

My hair was something of a shock first thing, but I'm going to have to live with it.

We caught a bus back into Leeds and made our way to Wellington Street where we made our fond farewells. The two of us are to be parted for three weeks. We have seen each other daily since the beginning of April. After a quick kiss in the rain I departed on a West Yorkshire bus in a homeward direction. At 12:30 she leaves for London, and by nightfall she will be terrorising the Italians. She and Joy will make the Red Brigade look like the Muppet Show.

I was home for 11 and after a miserable breakfast and change of clothing I went off to Burley to lend my shaky, alcohol-filled hand to Dave & Lynn. It was purgatory I can tell you. Scraping old paint off doors for five hours is not the best way to pass a Saturday afternoon. Audrey Baker came in at about 2 with fish & chips.

Back home for tea at 5:20. John, Maria and JPH came to see Mum and Dad. They are going to look at a house on Victoria Road (Guiseley). JPH sat on my knee and showed me a picture book. According to him mice are cows and umbrellas are flowers. He's a delight. I would love six or seven offspring just like him ~ God willing.

-=-

Friday June 30, 1978

A very historic day indeed ~two fold. Prince Michael of Kent and Baroness Marie-Christine von Reibnitz married in a civil ceremony in Vienna. The Queen despatched Princess Anne and Earl Mountbatten of Burma to give the whole thing the feeling of approval. The new Princess Michael of Kent is very beautiful and looks far more 'royal' than poor Mrs Mark Phillips ever could.

The second historic happening took place on my head. After a nervous and nasty morning at the YP I went to Images salon in Yeadon at 1pm where I was permed, curled, frizzled ~ call it what you will. This operation lasted until after 3 and I emerged looking decidedly woolly and feeling very self-conscious.

At home opinion was varied. Typically Dad came right out with it and said I looked "queer". Mum thought it was, er "modern". Sue liked it, of course. John called in but couldn't speak for laughing.

Tonight: met Jacq at 8 on Wellington Street and then went by bus to the Original Oak at Headingley. She thinks the hair is marvellous and keeps patting me on the head over and over again. We were joined by Sarah and John Mac at 9. Their opinion is that I look like a professional footballer and Sarah too gets the urge to pat me ceaselessly about the top.

At 10:30 it was on to Grant McKee's party. I took a bottle of elderberry wine which was a knock-out although the turn-out was poor. Jacq and I became horribly drunk and at about 3am the pair of us were puking in a privet hedge in McKee's garden. ________. Paul Vallely gave us a review copy of their 'Nasty Media' record. Grant invited us to stay the night and I have every reason to believe we did.

-=-

Thursday June 29, 1978

St Peter

Pay day. Met Jacq at her place at lunchtime and we managed to walk round town without resorting to having a drink. She went to Barclays and drew out more cash and I took a film to be developed at Gratispool's and ordered my £90 holiday money from the bank in Park Square.

Back at the office I altered my wall chart showing the order of succession to the throne. Prince Michael is wiped from the list from tomorrow and Princess Alexandra moves up from the 17 position to number 16. ______.

Tonight: The Nasons and Blackwells made their weekly visit to Pine Tops. We had a subdued evening watching television and Ern especially was a misery. This house buying and associated upheaval at his advanced age (he's 71) is a mistake. It's a wicked thing to say but I'm sure one of them will not live a year to reap the enjoyment ~ if any ~ of living in ghastly Devon. Cream teas and all that.

-=-

Wednesday June 28, 1978

On the subject of our royal monarchs of the past I'm sure you'll be intrigued to learn that had he been alive today, King Henry VIII would have been celebrating his 487th birthday. It's probably just as well he died when he did because the distribution of the royal Maundy money would have proved chaotic.

Ode to King Henry VIII

A fat man you were,
by all accounts,
Or so I was told at school,
Six Queen's in all you managed to use,
but which one was Lady Jane Grey?

To be serious, I'd just like to say that these odes are becoming far too frequent and in future I promise to limit them to exceptionally rare and wonderful occasions. Blimey, I don't want you thinking I'm compiling poems just to fill up the blank spaces in my diary. That would never do.

Ode to you

Thanks for ready me,
Thanks a lot,
Thanks for reading me,
I'm glad I'm not.

-=-

Tuesday June 27, 1978

Moon's last quarter 12:44

I have been looking at my ancient diaries to see what I have done on June 27 in previous years and it has left me quite sad and reflective. One thing's for sure ~ June 27, 1978 isn't going to say anything outstanding.

This day in 1830 was a different matter altogether. On June 27, 1830 King William IV was proclaimed throughout the land and the bells pealed, as did the potatoes, carrots, and mangold wurzels. Poor William IV was probably an idiot. He was unpopular, and his only claim to fame is that he sired scores of children to an actress, Dorothea Jordan ~ and they all took the surname FitzClarence (William had been Duke of Clarence). His wife, Queen Adelaide, produced 2 sickly daughters who died in infancy. William's demise in 1837 after a thoroughly unstable and feeble reign saw the accession of Victoria the Great ~ his niece.





Ode to William the Fourth

Poor William,
You were stupid,
I've often been told so at least,
I think you were best in the navy,
You're the King I remember the least.

Bum!Bum!

-=-

Monday June 26, 1978

Christine phoned and we arranged to go out on Thursday evening. She has definitely set her heart on clearing off to Jersey next year to work in a bar. God knows how life will be without her bringing devastation and chaos to it. I must write to her soon because our correspondence is of vital historical importance. Since 1973 she's sent me over 70 witty, wonderful letters all of which I have stored away. One day we'll be bandied about in English Literature classes and on 'O' Level syllabuses with the likes of John Donne and E.M. Forster.

An Ode to Christine

You have for five years been a source of great joy,
You bring warmth to my heart which none can destroy.

Your virtues are many,
Your faults are quite rare,
But I'd never tell you,
I don't think I'd dare.

It's a pleasure to see you,
Of this I am sure,
My heart beats like fury,
I know of no Cure.

So, off to Jersey and see if I care,
I'd like to come with you,
But I don't have the fare.

M.L.R.

Sunday June 25, 1978

5th Sunday after Trinity

Excessively cold day. Had a very comfortable night's sleep. Woke at about 11. Grandad Glynn (minus dentures) made our breakfast of eggs and bacon.

The usual Stockport luncheon followed which consisted of about five pints between 12 and 2 with Garry, Dave and Billy. Billy goes on about his niece's wedding. Garry joked about my hilarious trousers. I'm definitely taking them on holiday after this reception.

Afterwards David, Mr Glynn and I watched a dreadful Tony Curtis film after which I was the only conscious survivor.

Before long it was the World Cup Final between Argentina and Holland. Bill and Garry came to watch. At half time with the score at 1-0 to Argentina the lads took me to Manchester where I boarded a coach full of rebellious children ~ nothing short of yobbos ~and off it was to Leeds.

Home by 10:30. Glenda Jackson's 'Touch of Class' was on tv. Poor Mum hasn't been too well. I am worried about her really.

David, Lynn and Dad have decorated the bedroom at Lawn Road.

-=-