Tuesday June 4, 1974

Chris's birthday. John goes to celebrate at the Hare and Hounds with the mob (inc Peter Mather), but I decide that you don't celebrate a birthday twice in the same week and refuse to be involved in any of the celebratory events of the day. I am sat in the bath when they roll home with plenty of ale and money 'under the bridge'.

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Monday June 3, 1974

George V born 1865. Edward VIII married Mrs Simpson, 1937. Laura's birthday but we don't celebrate it. It is now June 20, and I can't remember what actually happened today.

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Sunday June 2, 1974

Whit Sunday. Wake up at 9 o'clock and only seconds before Christine W rings me to check about church. John thinks I'm completely mad getting up at 9 to go to church on a windy, rather unsettled Sunday morning, but it makes a change I do suppose. Wearing my new suit I walk to Christine's where Mrs White stands goggle-eyed at me. What is so weird about me attending church? The two of us then called on Linda and we, the three of us, crossed the road to St John's Parish Church. We sat for about one hour and the hymns were shocking - Whit Sunday is supposed to be a joyous occasion but I'm afraid the vicar of St John's didn't do anything to make it so. We had Holy Communion and laughed at one of the parishioners who went back for a second helping of bread and shot of wine! Christine suggests we all go to St Oswald's next week, but I remind her my holiday begins on Saturday. Driving 2-4 this afternoon and I do quite well. Mother and Dad journey to Nottingham to see poor Uncle Bert, who must be feeling quite sick. "Sugar Baby Love". -==-

Saturday June 1, 1974

Today is the First of Flaming June. Go sod off.

Friday May 31, 1974

Very hot day. Go to the YP and discover that I am working tomorrow morning and therefore decide to take a half-day today. Quite pleased at being able to escape from the dismal office, and I drift into Leeds where I purchase a new pair of shoes from Ravel, with my new Barclaycard of course. They cost me £9.99. I piled onto a 55 bus, reading the latest edition of 'Private Eye' which features the recently ennobled Mrs Marcia Williams, or Lady Falkender, or whatever she calls herself. Home after 2. Sit with Mama and Papa on the rear lawn with a cup of tea. Take a bath at 4 and get ready for the Chris and Laura celebrations. John and I get the 6.30 bus to the Emmotts and I begin with a double whisky, one pernod and orange, and a Drambuie. George and Jane and many more come at 7.30 and we leave at 8 coming back in the coach ten minutes later to pick up 5 silly females whom we had left behind in the toilets. Darling Denise is completely enraptured by my braces and we feel slightly fresh when Keith passes a bottle of sweet Martini around the coach. Arrive at Kiko's just after 9. Wonderful place, but the enjoyment is marred by my inability to get drunk, but I certainly tried my best to do so. The place is very Polynesian with plastic palms adorning the walls and floors. See Joe and Anne Grunwell, who cannot believe that I am 19. Get back to the coach at 2. Home at 3. Chris was sick on the floor, and I laughed because he threatened us all before-hand about being ill on his precious and expensive bus.

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Thursday May 30, 1974

Birth of Henry IV, 1366.

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Wednesday May 29, 1974

Up at 9.30. Brilliant day. Lynn and Sue take Mum into Bradford for the day and I go into Guiseley calling in at the library and pay a visit to the bank in order to question them about Barclaycard. The cashier scowled when I said I was 19. Buy 2 pork chops and an Express where I read that Princess Richard of Gloucester is 'probably' having a baby. She hasn't been seen in public since the end of April. Received a letter from Denny in answer to the one I wrote to her on Saturday - hilarious. I love her. She quite surprised me this afternoon when she rang from work to see what my reaction was to her passionate letter. We had a laugh about it. I made Papa his lunch at 2, then leapt in the bath in preparation for my rendezvous with the Virgins of the Yorkshire Post, namely the library girls. At the YP a letter awaits me from Austin-Clarke, which is even more ignorant than the first one he sent me. Kathleen makes a quick exit, wishing to avoid my protestations. Go to the Wellesley with Tony Kelly. A very busy evening. Home at 12. Mum awaits my arrival and I show her my latest obscene letter. She is furious and says she'll ring the swine tomorrow, but I manage to deter her. She tells me that Uncle Bert had his foot amputated yesterday and Dad especially looked most sad. Mind you, Dad becomes deeply emotional at most things. I'd hate to think that my brother would one day be undergoing such an operation. In fact I'd rather die first. I am very close to my brother. We've been virtually inseperable since birth. -==-