Monday February 19, 1979

_. A restless night. The wine at Pudsey and the late hour of retiring had a knackering effect, YP was dull.

The Duke of Westminster, possibly the wealthiest man in Britain, died today aged 68. Earl Grosvenor succeeds, and his wife, the former Natalia Phillips, is not 20 until May. When did we last have a teenage duchess, I wonder? Natalia is a daughter of Lt-Col Harold Phillips, the Queen's great friend, and a granddaughter of Lady Zia Wernher, &c. Her sister is the Marchioness of Hamilton, destined to be Duchess of Abercorn. And on the subject of duchesses I should say something about the Duchess of Kent. A few weeks ago it was reported that her figure had expanded. The Daily Telegraph even published a photo. Then, she cancelled a public engagement and instead the duke took her place. She will be 46 on Thursday. Can HRH be pregnant? I'd be surprised, but it must be remembered she had a miscarriage in October, 1977, which proves that her equipment must still be in fairly reasonable working order. I think she is too old. Besides, wouldn't it be dangerous? [You budding gynaecologists out there can probably settle this one for me].

Meanwhile, that breathing Aphrodite, Princess Michael of Kent, is laid up at Kensington Palace awaiting the birth of her first child in April.

Watched 'Fawlty Towers' tonight. John Cleese is a genius.

-=-

Sunday February 18, 1979

_. The news is going around that a thaw is underway, but I don't believe a word of it. [Is my handwriting going down hill. Bear with me, said the raccoon]. Is a raccoon a bear? No, I don't think so. It's probably related to a bear. Half cousins probably. Like the Queen and the Marquess of Cambridge, or me and Sharon Kirk. However, this drivel is getting us nowhere. Precisely.

Over breakfast Mama suggests a trip to Auntie Hilda's after luncheon, and I add that we should go out - en famille - for a quick dose of alcohol first. It is decided upon. Mum, Dad, Sue, Pete and I head out to the Dog and Gun at Appperley Bridge. It's a long time since I went out for a drink with Mum & Dad. We discuss all going to Stockport together. It is my considered opinion that my parents do not go out enjoying themselves enough. They spend all their time home brewing and have become virtual recluses within the space of a few years.

At 2:30 we went on to 6, St James's Crescent, Pudsey [Sue and Pete having gone home]. Had a boozy, pleasurable afternoon with the Gadsbys. Joined by Steve & Tim. I am told we stayed to dinner, but don't remember this. Hilda's Yorkshire Terrier, Pepper, is a delight. Uncle Tony [the Liberal candidate] is more sensible these days and remained calm and collected when I frequently, without warning, dropped 'Jeremy Thorpe' into the conversation.

-=-

Saturday February 17, 1979

_. I feel now fully recovered from my severe bout of pnuemocallaghanicosis . However, I cannot smile and raise my eyes to the heavens in thanksgiving because two million of my fellow Britons remain smitten with this killer disease. This modern day plague affects everybody, with the exception of those already unemployed or the Royal Family.

I spent most of the day closeted at home next to the record player because Mumsie and Daddykins ventured to Threshfield and Susan and Peter went to Bradford, or was it Leeds? Anyway, Pete's car was stopped by the boys in blue on two occasions within the space of half an hour to be told about the offence caused by his dormant brake lights, &c. Susie gave one burly, over-weight bobby a piece of her mind, which is heart warming. The lion spirit lives on in some Britons.

Tonight: Just Chippy and I out alone. We went to the Crown at Yeadon. He spoke at some length of his sexual experiences and over our ale he made me feel like a Trappist monk. I believe I've got a lot of catching up to do.

At 9:30 we went to the Regent at Chapel Allerton and had a giggle with Sarah and her beau, Richard [Burke]. Jacq was in and we were joined by Tony and the boys. No party afterwards which was rare, so homeward at 11 in severe icy conditions.

-=-

Friday February 16, 1979

_. Slept until 11. Wrapped up well before leaving for Sarah's at Horsforth at 12 o'clock. Mum was grumpy because I was venturing out when I'm supposed to be ill and off work. To Ivory Towers [238, West End Lane, Horsforth] where I collected a pile of clothes ordered from the Grattans catalogue. Delia, Sarah and I went first to Morrisons and then a wallpaper shop. It wasn't an easy thing selecting wallpaper. We all had very different opinions. Just why was I there?
They are lovely women.

Home at 5:30. Tonight, to the Shoulder with Sue, Peter, Chippy, Debbie, "Floo" and his moll. Quite boring really. Peter M, Chris R and Steve came in and I chatted with them to break the monotony.  Home at 11, sober and dull. I argued with Motherdear about something ridiculous.

Pnuemocallaghanicosis is sweeping the country. It affects its victims in a serious, embarrassing way. The symptoms are a] not wanting to work, b] an inability to dispose of refuse or move the bins, c] the appetite is unaffected and d] the victim is still quite capable of consuming vast quantities of alcohol, e] he looks outwardly healthy but is dim witted and slow to grasp the situation, and f] he becomes belligerent to those who might want to boost the economy, or be inclined to labour for the greater good. The only known cure is to give the victim an immediate pay rise of over 50 per cent.

-=-

Thursday February 15, 1979

_. Like most Britons I am now suffering from 'pnuemocallaghanicosis'. I have taken to my warm bed with a book.

Meanwhile, outside we are heading for a second ice-age. Giant mammoths & fur clad sabre tooth beasts are roaming around, and are quite the vogue. Old age pensioners, clutching red pension books, are being encased in glacial formations. Archaeologists in the year 4062 will be gasping and falling over themselves with delight on finding these perfectly preserved, if solid OAPs.

Debbie Harry.

Snuggled all day with the tale of Mrs Jordan and the Duke of Clarence, aka King William IV by Jean Plaidy. I will have to look at some serious work on this very interesting subject. I did read something years ago, before the ice came. I did emerge from my pit at tea time and later sat looking interested and alert with Jim and Margaret.

Saw Debbie Harry on Top of the Pops on the BBC and have decided that Miss Harry is perhaps the most perfect specimen of the female sex ever to have walked the planet. She is the twentieth century's answer to Helen of Troy, Lillie Langtry and Bessie Braddock.

To bed feeling slightly better but resolved not to attempt the YP tomorrow.






-=-

Wednesday February 14, 1979

_. Valentine's Day.

I have a glowing red nose, dribbling over all and everything. More snow over night and it was a three and a half hour journey from Guiseley to Leeds. We [Jim R and I] left home just after 8, and I didn't enter the YP until 11:25am. Spend the day sniffling and coughing, generally out of breath and feeling abominable.

Reginald Maudling died early today from hepatitis. He was renowned for excessive drinking so no doubt the endless flood of booze hastened his departure. He fell from favour over his part in the John Poulson Affair and only last month he was mentioned in the scandal surrounding Sir Eric Miller. Maudling isn't going to be missed by many in his party.

Home in better time, but the snow is hurtling down again.

Today is Valentine's Day and I didn't get one bloody card. Mind you, I didn't expect one because I am out of favour with the majority of my female acquaintances. Carole is enraptured by Mick Lynch, and Jacq won't send me one because I failed to send her a Christmas card, or indeed a birthday card earlier this month. As for Christine, she appears to have severed diplomatic relations since Christmas. I've written twice recently and both epistles have been ignored by the tenant of Glenview Hall. Don't worry. I don't think it's serious. Only slightly disconcerting. CB is much taken up with Doreen at the moment.

Ate a large meal at 5:30 and then went into paroxysms of sneezing. Am I perhaps on my way to join Reggie Maudling on his journey to eternal peace and tranquillity?

David of Stockport phoned at 9 and was in good spirits joking about Martyn. Retired to bed at 10:17pm with several paracetemols.


-=-

Tuesday February 13, 1979

_. I am sniffling and glowing this evening undoubtedly struck down by a heavy cold. Dad says it is only to be expected the way I go around only half-dressed in the middle of winter. This is rubbish. Three hundred people at the YP are all sneezing and germ spreading and so it would be something of a miracle for me to escape.

Rubbish is piling up in the streets thanks to the striking refuse collectors. This filth could give us all the bubonic plague, or 'Black Death', and this would put my piffling, unassuming chill into perspective, wouldn't it?

[I do apologise that my handwriting is different because I am writing this in bed. ] I have laid hands on one of Mummy's books. It's by Jean Plaidy and entitled 'The Goddess of the Green Room' based on the life of Dorothea Jordan, mistress of King William IV. I don't usually read this slushy fiction, but after glancing at it I find it quite interesting. If anyone found me with it I'd go crimson. Surely, to read anything is better than not taking up a book at all?

Saw a bit of TV tonight and played cards with Susan and Peter. I just cannot stop sneezing.

The Queen is still in Kuwait and spent the day visiting oil fields. What else is there to look at?  We are told that the Prince of Wales is to spend a day at No 10, Downing Street and sit in a Cabinet meeting. This too is making history. The Queen is making sure that her successor will have some intimate political knowledge, and that an 'Edward VII' situation will never be repeated.

Heard on the late news that Reginald Maudling, the former Tory Cabinet minister, is on his last legs. His kidneys have given way.

To bed with Dorothea Jordan at 11pm.

-=-

Monday February 12, 1979

_. Thick, deep snow fell today. Sod it. The white stuff had just begun to clear, and now we are knee deep again. Ah well, I suppose we are better of than those in Iran. The Ayatollah Khomeini is now at the top of my assassinations list, along with Anthony Neil Wedgwood Benn, Willie Hamilton and Dame Gracie Fields.

Trouble at mill over Miss Jacqui ______________________________.

It seems that the brief affair between Sarah and John MacMurray is o'er. She tells me that he will no longer be called upon to escort her to Leeds RL matches or performances at Opera North. I didn't say much about this because I fail to see why she can go off with Richard Burke every weekend, whilst Mr Mac is doomed to a life of fidelity lightened only by the occasional excursion to the Leeds Grand Theatre every few weeks or so. ________.

Sarah says that she has heard from Marilyn Wheeler who has told her I was bored stiff on my recent lunch date with Delia at Len's Bar. Me, bored? Marilyn was sat like a heap of rotting fish on a dock side! Delia phoned Sarah and I passed on my regards telling Sarah to send love from her 'bored nephew'.

Home in a snow drift and ate everything in sight. The house was filled with the aroma of Karen's wedding cake, all three tiers of it.

Watched the news. The Queen has made history by being the first British monarch to visit Kuwait. It is unprecedented for a woman to be formally received in an Arab state, and one Arabic newspaper has described Her Majesty as being "a highly honoured honorary gentleman". Quite ridiculous.

Bed at 12:37am.

-=-

Sunday February 11, 1979

_. Septuagesima. 

Slept in the upstairs sitting room at the Hollywood Hotel with David G and Peter. I had a rough night because the zip fastener on my sleeping bag had broken, and a draught, and a non-alcoholic one at that, whistled through my underclothes far into the night. Meanwhile, Peter and David slept like babies. Susan spent the night reclining like the Empress Josephine in Dave's gold-embossed Empire-line four poster. We had greasy eggs and bacon at 11. Sue had not slept well. The shear enormity of the bed had frightened her.

Breakfast over with it was opening time at the bar downstairs. We were soon in the smoke-filled Hollywood. Joined by Billy, Garry and Steve B. Billy asked me to remember him to my Mum. [He is only five years younger than she is]. He probably fancies her. Quite strange having ancient friends.

Susan worries about this circle of friends because she cannot see any progress been made or any attempts to find partners of the opposite sex. She thinks all males over the age of thirteen should be having regular sex with a long-term partner.

We left at 4 o'clock and got home in just under an hour.

Joined by Hilda and Tony again. She brought a box full of ingredients for Karen's wedding cake. We drank wine and watched TV. Saw 'Julius Caesar' by the bard himself (BBC2) and then Alan Bates in 'A Kind of Loving' . They left at about 1am after the film. Thora Hird is a marvellous actress.

-=-

Saturday February 10, 1979

_. Delia phoned to thank me for the good time yesterday. She told me Sarah had been on the phone. She had been out on the town in London with seventy Swedes. The only English they know is: "When can we go to the pub, please?"

Are the Swedes a very boring race? Am I horribly misled perhaps?

I forgot to report yesterday that I went down to the Regent pub in Guiseley and asked for a bar job. "Don't ring us, we'll ring you" was the kind of reply I received from the landlord.

Peter arrived at 1:30 and we left for Stockport. Arrived at 2:50 just in time for last orders at the bar. Met Dave G, Bill and Garry. I think Sue thinks Billy is a groping fiend. Later we crawled about the town by taxi. I was refused entry in Rotters disco - the bouncer citing the length of my hair as his excuse! So Peter, Sue, Dave and I found refuge in Rumours, a cavern-like discotheque of high standing. Very enjoyable. Why didn't Billy and Garry join us?

-=-

Friday February 9, 1979

_. Amusing day. Delia phoned this morning to thank me for the letter I'd written on the 7th. She found it delightful. She asked me if I fancied going out for a drink at lunchtime and I leapt with joy at the thought of it. ________.

Kathleen was thinking that I was taking a half-day so I held her to it and took one. Kathleen was chewing her hands like an imbecile when I gathered my possessions and left at 12.

Met Delia on Wellington Street and went to Len's Bar which is just around the corner. She must be quite at a loss with Sarah away with the mob of plundering, ravaging crowd of Swedes. Had a few drinks at the bar and then grabbed a Chesterfield settee. She told me that the Pakistanis are responsible for re-introducing tuberculosis into the UK, and no doubt she is right, but I hate to think they are going to take the blame. On the subject of Pakistanis, she says that if they can organise arranged marriages then so can she and that Sarah and I are to be married at Rawdon Church sometime in the very near future. I told her I am very willing to go along with this.

Joined by Barbara Wheeler and morky Marilyn, who sat in a near coma clutching a Martini. She isn't going to speak to me again after the party last Saturday when I 'upset' Jacq. I fail to see what this has got to do with Marilyn though. Barbara was pleasant though and we discussed Margaret Thatcher's hair, and the days of Harold Macmillan. All Tories together. They left Delia and I at 2. We then ate a ploughman's lunch which consisted of an apple and piles of raw onion. We sat on the Chesterfield breathing onion fumes over each other. She talked quite frankly about many things, things she would never dream of telling Sarah. We are a bit 'Margaret and Roddy'. Home at 3.

Sat by the fire tonight. Totally knackered. My back aches from last night's tragedy. Bed at 12.

-=-

Thursday February 8, 1979

_. Phoned Jacq at 12 and met her an hour later for a few drinks. I told her I am on the verge of destitution and she grimaced in that annoying fashion and commented: "What's new?" She showed me John MacMurray's card bearing his phone number, and I told her that John had this very day been asking what her surname is. He made up some ridiculous tale that Jill Armstrong is heading out to interview a guy by the surname of 'Stayte' and was he, by any chance, a relation of Jacq? Why doesn't he just come out with it and ask for Jacq's name and phone number? It is quite obvious he fancies her. I had better not tell Sarah of these sordid developments.

At the office I saw Brian Walters who says the EP Father's Day trip is going to be extended this year. "Perhaps a day at the races?" Since when did gee gees run on a Sunday?

Tonight: Hilda and Tony came at 7:45 and Peter came at 8 and off we went to the Shoulder. Just us two. Chippy was working until 10. I get on with Peter better than I ever have & our friendship has strengthened with these regular Thursday escapades.

I went out tonight wearing a shirt I have made from an old white coat ~ the type which doctors and veterinary surgeons wear. It looks quite good but at Oakwood Hall someone remarked quite unkindly that I look like a chef.

Joined by Chippy at 10 and I took a nasty fall in the ice at Oakwood Hall and just about broke my back. Chippy, roaring with laughter at my plight, also went down with a bump and almost dislocated his elbow. We were grovelling around in the dark like premature lambs on roller skates.

At Oakwood I bumped into Jacqueline Dixon, who was a neighbour when we lived on Silverdale. She is still down there. I have known her since she was about seven. She is quite a little dish now. My chat-up line began: "Hullo, didn't I sell you a rabbit in 1969?" Home at 2:30am. No too pissed up, but semi-merry.

-=-

Wednesday February 7, 1979

_. I feel uneasy. My personal financial crisis will reach its climax tomorrow and I do not know what to do about Stockport at the weekend. I asked Susan and Pete if they want to take me there and unbelievably they agree. We decided to go on Saturday afternoon and return the following afternoon. I phoned Dave at 10:45pm but he didn't sound enthusiastic about my plans. Martyn is now a regular at the Hollywood & they had already arranged to take me to Rotters on Friday night._____________________.

YP: Sarah was off with a cold. She has lost her voice. She spent the whole day yesterday making gestures with those beautiful big eyes. The poor thing is meeting a bunch of guys from Scandinavia tomorrow. They are all staying in a large London hotel for a couple of nights. One large Nordic acquaintance has offered to pay Sarah's hotel bill, but she had declined the offer because she doesn't want to feel that she has to repay him in some way. I quite get the picture, Sarah.

Bumped into Jacq on Wellington Street. I promise to return her Bread LP, Genesis single and the shocking pink tie. I want none of them anyway.

Mum and Dad went to Lynn and David's tonight. I watched TV with Sue & Pete. 'Rebecca', and previous to this we sat through ninety pathetic minutes of England v. Ireland football. We won 4-0. To bed with a mug of Ovaltine at 11, and compiled this diary until 11:47. Bye Bye.

-=-

Tuesday February 6, 1979

_. I have started to collect the coins bearing the inage of George VI that I find in my change because it is said that the Royal Mint is going to begin withdrawing them from circulation. Uncle Albert collected many pre-decimal coins in the 60s. It is hard to believe that in 1971 you could still get coins with Queen Victoria's regal bearing upon them in your loose change. Incidentally, King George VI died 27 years ago today.

Auntie Hilda, Uncle Tony and my cousin Diane came over at 8pm and stayed until after 2am. It was almost as if they had never been away and we all got on well together. Hilda has asked Mum to make Karen's wedding cake. Karen is marrying Steve at Pudsey on August 4. Diane is 15 and no longer the toothless brat. They haven't been here since 1976.

Uncle Tony is as silly as he ever was. He is standing as the Liberal candidate for Pudsey in the local elections in May, but I don't think he stands a chance of getting in. How can the Liberals be expected to get anywhere when the likes of the Rt Hon Jeremy Thorpe are allowed to roam, quite freely, around the countryside worrying sheep and old ladies? No, Tony, no.

We ate supper and drank ale and wine and talked of the days in Cornwall and Pudsey. Grandma Gadsby is in the asylum & so they can come here after visiting her. Mum invited them to her Thursday night orgy. Bed at 3am.

-=-

Monday February 5, 1979

_. I think a thaw is underway. Struggled out to the YP with no enthusiasm at all. Discussed the party with Sarah and Carol J but neither went into great detail about what happened after my departure. Tony took Carol to the cinema at Shipley last night & Jacq was accompanied by Chris Ratcliffe! ______________.

Home at 5. Mum says she phoned Auntie Hilda [her sister] last night and that she and Uncle Tony are coming over here tomorrow night. Evidently, Tony's mother is an inmate of the asylum [Highroyds] and they are calling after visiting her there.

Not a word from Lynn and Dave. _______________________-.

Watched Monty Python's Flying Circus and took to my bed at 11:55pm. Reading 'Majesty' by Robert Lacey.

-=-

Sunday February 4, 1979

_. Up at 11:30 for breakfast. We discuss Lynn _______________________. Peter N came here at 3:30. I watched a programme on the BBC about the Bronte Sisters which was dull and morbid. Also watched a play 'The Voysey Inheritance' at 8. Bed at 1am. Feeling tired and dreary. A full day of TV cannot do us any good.

-=-

Saturday February 3, 1979

_. Peter predicted last night that dear Mama would 'play Hell' with me this morning because of Susan's condition. He was very accurate in this assessment. Susan, very pale and feeble looking, was pampered and spoiled this morning. I cannot help thinking that some grave miscarriage of justice has taken place. According to my mother I am a "lazy, good for nothing wretch". This outburst came about because I said I didn't want to go with Dad to the supermarket to do the weekly shop. How many men my age willingly go out buying tins of beans on a Saturday afternoon?

At 12 John came in with JPH. It was a surprise. We haven't heard from him since the New Year. Maria came round later, looking quite massive but happy and well. Sadly, John had cut his own hair and he strongly resembled a Russian dissident.

At 5:30 Marlene, Frank, Auntie Mabel, Mark & Deborah arrived. Later joined by Margaret & Jim, Chippy and Debbie, and Lynn and David. A late arrival was David Greenwood. Lynn immediately took him into the dining room and they sat listening to a LP of 'The Desert Song'. John Hanson and all that. _____________________________.

At 11pm Chippy, Sue, Pete and I took off to the party at Kirkstall of Jacq's friend, Linda, where Sue & Pete left Chippy and I after only ten minutes. Sarah came over and gave me a big kiss and Carol J informed me that Tony and Chris R were present. Chippy and I had a bottle of cherry wine and we swigged it from the bottle neck like Irish navvies. I gave Jacq a £1 for more booze. ______________. After an hour C and I decided to leave. We were back at Pine Tops at some late hour and Mother's party was still going strong. David Greenwood was still sat there. Lynn was very drunk.

-=-

Friday February 2, 1979

_. Brilliant sunshine, but thick snow. The place resembles Gstaad or Klosters, or wherever it is where the toffs go for the winter sports. I kept expecting to see the likes of the Shah of Iran and Angie Dickinson to come skiing down the lane.

Left work at 12 and at one Chippy came up and we went down to the asylum to meet 'Flu', one of his workmates. On the way out of the asylum grounds we encountered a female inmate with slashed wrists, clutching a large shard of broken glass. Her blood was so thick it resembled raspberry jam. People can be so squeamish about blood, can't they? On we went to the Junction at Otley for the duration of the afternoon. Saw lots of old pissed friends and had about five pints. Chippy was reeling and swaying by 4 o'clock. Otley men are positively Neolothic, aren't they? Long hair. Long beards. Big hairy arms and loud, inaudible voices. You wouldn't think that Guiseley was just around the corner.

At 5 I was at home for bacon sandwiches with Mummy & Daddy. Susan was looking very sophisticated in a new skirt and blouse.

Tonight: Out to the Shoulder with Sue, Pete, Chippy, Debbie, Flu and his girlfriend. A pleasant evening around a crowded, wet table. Chippy insisted on playing a ridiculous game and as usual I made a balls of it. Debbie is a very attractive thing, only 17, and I cannot help thinking that she might actually prefer me to Mr Ash. Haha. Tony and Chris R were also in.

Home at 11. Susan was very drunk. Brandy, I fear. she had fallen over in the snow.  She was horribly sick until about 2am. Peter and I sat with her upstairs. The scene resembled the Vigil of the Princes from the lying in State of King George V in January, 1936.

-=-

Thursday February 1, 1979

_. Pay day, but most it isn't mine. K_____ is a frustrated old cow. She was dressed entirely in pink today and resembled a neurotic piglet.

Carol J and I went over to the Central at 5:30 [early doors] to the 'Welcome back to the YP all you sciving Lefty NUJ Reds' party. I had seen Jacq at lunchtime and she also put in an appearance tonight with a work mate from Dacre, Son and Hartley.

Carol and I were in high spirits and attacked the buffet upstairs - fooling around with the cheese sandwiches in dry bread rolls.

The usual journalistic mob was out in force. The highlight was Bob Cockroft's piano playing excellence. His repertoire included such rousing tunes as 'Jerusalem' and 'Abide with Me' . He was doing requests and I asked for Your Tiny Hand is Frozen [Che Gelida Manina] from La Boheme, but he said he couldn't play in German. I am still trying to work that one out.

At 8 I left this merry throng to join Pete N and Chippy at Highroyds. My bus journey was blurred by alcohol, and so was the remainder of the evening. From the asylum we went to the Shoulder where we met three buck-toothed neo-fascist females, who joined us at Oakwood Hall. Quite a laugh, but by midnight I was struck down by a hangover.  Sad. Home at 2:15am in a snowdrift, but Chippy's car glided through it like a knife through hot butter.

-=-

Wednesday January 31, 1979

I just don't know what to sling down on this page today. It was such a mundane, ordinary day that the very thought of filling an entire page is horrific.

Sat and watched the hot, over-worked TV until smoke bellowed forth from the appliance. Saw part III of 'Rebecca', but David G phoned in the middle of this & frightened me with news of a financial nature. "We've booked the Bournemouth trip" he casually said, "and can you bring me the £10 when you come over next week?" Oh God. Destitution once again.

I may have to abandon my Stockport trip planned for February 9 and just post the money to David instead. Blimey, I'm not John Paul Getty III.

To bed at 11:30 with a mug of Ovaltine. Just like a bloody old lady.

-=-