Saturday September 27, 1975

John's birthday party. Mum is cooking all day and is in a foul mood after hearing from Tetley's that they haven't got the New Inn. She really is shaken about it and says they won't try for another pub if that is how they treat people, but that is hardly the right attitude. To get anywhere these days you have to fight, kick and cheat to do everything possible to secure your choice. Life's a rar race.

At 4pm I meet Carole in Guiseley and we buy some flash cubes for her camera and walk back to our place eating lollipops in the rain. Romantic is the word you are looking for.

To the Hare & Hounds at 8.30. Mum and Dad come down with Bill Stott and his wife, and all the gang gathers in readiness for the party. The guests are too numerous to mention, but you know who they are by now. Back to our place at 11 after talking with RM who is just out of Armley Jail. He stabbed someone in Yeadon and went down for nine months. Silly little sod that he is.

Party is a tremendous success. The food went as if a plague of locusts had descended upon it, but the drink lasted quite well. Mum went to bed at about 1am feeling 'off it' but otherwise no casualties were accounted for. I lasted out until about 5am and had the usual cheese on toast with Martyn Cole. Carole went up to sleep at 3. The poor girl is hopeless with drink.


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Friday September 26, 1975

Do not wake until after 11. Staying in bed for hours on end is shear bliss. No work. Absolutely free until Sunday night! These days off are such marvellous things. (OK Michael, don't get carried away about having a few hours off work. It isn't the 'be all and end all' you know).

Finish reading The Duke & Duchess of Windsor by Ralph Martin. How much in love they were. The final chapter left a lump in my throat. The Queen should really feel ashamed for not letting the poor bloke do a job for us in Britain. All that talent and ability was rejected simply because he married out of the Establishment. Shameful.

To the Hare & Hounds with Carole at 8.30. Christine is in. I'm uneasy when both she and Carole are together. The animosity between the two is transmitted straight at me. With Peter M and Christine D in his van to Wikis. Carole and I don't dance until the final record, but we got on well enough. See Ann Greep, Marian, Maura, Lynne Mather, &c. My old girlfriends all in one night! Ann Greep especially was a surprise. I thought she'd married a guy called Ellis from Essex (no it's not a Limerick) and never imagined laying eyes on her again. At 2am walk Carole to Menston and then walk home. Arrive at 3am. Have a drink with Dad and then go to bed.

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Thursday September 25, 1975

John's birthday. A wet day, and I come home at about 4.30 after getting a thorough soaking in town at lunchtime. I buy John the LP 'Rock Your Baby' by George Macrae, which is a bit old now, but he likes it all the same. Lynn and Dave buy him a pair of driving gloves and a spark plug remover (of all things) for the car. Carole (bless her) came up at about 8pm with a 'Three Degrees' LP and 'George' bought him a pewter tankard.

At 8pm the Gadsbys called in for a few minutes to give John a card. __________.Lynn, Dave, John, 'George', Carole, Sue, Mum and I have a little booze-up celebration. The only absentees are Papa at work and Peter, who is down at the Fox & Hounds boozing. We all get merry. Some merrier than others, and I walk Carole to 'George's' where she is staying.

John isn't having a proper party until Saturday, which is traditional for his birthdays. Mum will no doubt excel herself in every way when the day actually comes. Her cooking is so good. She puts Fanny Cradock to shame.

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Wednesday September 24, 1975

Two years ago at about this time we all drew the conclusion that our beloved Prince of Wales would make Miss Amelia Rose Clifton his princess. Rosie Clifton, however, must have different intentions, because after finishing with the prince at Balmoral she tagged herself along with old Prince Michael of Kent. This romance too proved useless because earlier this year she married the younger brother of millionaire Lord Vestey and became the Hon Mrs Mark Vestey.

The horror story circulating Fleet Street at the moment is that His Royal Highness the Prince of Wales is attached to MRS Rosalind Ward, a married mother with two children. Tut, tut. This will never do. The Duke of Windsor was all very well, but we don't want another one. The prince will be 27 in November and if he's not married soon I intend washing my hands of him.

Let's hope Prince Andrew will find the marriage market easier to deal with when it falls his lot to give the nation a Duchess of York.

John's birthday tomorrow. I think I'll buy him a record or something similar. He's the owner of far too many pullovers, shirts, socks and trousers and they're beyond my price-range at the moment.


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Tuesday September 23, 1975

It feels like a Monday today because it's my first day back at work since the weekend.

I ring Carole at work and we decide to go to the cinema this evening. 'Mandingo' starring James Mason and Susan George, which is all about slaves and plantation life in America in the 19th century. I've heard that it's full of sex and violence, but when we eventually see it at 8.30 tonight it is very mild and typical indeed. Fancy, travelling all the way to Leeds to see a film which could easily cheer the Lord Archbishop of Canterbury himself. However, we did like it and it gave us the excuse (not that we need one) to sit huddled together in a dimly lit room.

Home on the 10.45 35 and I call at her home for a drink. After saying my fond farewells I walk home. Luckily I missed the rain, which just stopped as we alighted from the bus.

Home at about 12 and continue reading the Duke & Duchess of Windsor by Ralph Martin.

John is still at death's door, but he vows he'll be well again for his birthday celebrations on Thursday.

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Monday September 22, 1975

Up at 9.30. Ernest Blackwell is in for a cup of coffee with Dad and Sue, and I show him 'The Story of the Duke and Duchess of Windsor' by Ralph Martin (which I bought on Saturday by the way). The book is really excellent and I believe theirs is the greatest love story of all time. To give up the throne for a woman!

Back to this diary peeping lark. I was mad with Carole. Reading someone elses diary is like opening someone elses drawers and reading other peoples mail. It is worse in fact. However, I'll bear no grudges and continue to say horrible things about people whether they are reading it behind my back or not.

She rang me at 11am to ask if I still loved her. Of course I do. She must think I am a cruel swine. I love her in a silly sort of way really, and she is the only girl I have fallen for who didn't knock me off my feet at first sight. Strange really.

Today is Mark Phillips's 27th birthday. I am disappointed really. Twenty-seven years old, two years married life behind him, and still no grandchildren for the Queen. A fortune teller in one of the Sundays says Princess Anne is going to have a baby girl next year. I am no medium, and it certainly takes no magic powers to se that 1976 will see Princess Anne in the Olympics, and no offpsring will appear until late 1977, or even 1980.

Carole comes round with Maria at about 8.30. We sit and drink Campari in the dining room and I give Carole a free hand with the record player. We don't really have the same taste in music, but Tamla Motown is just about bearable. I walk her home at a ghastly late hour and then walk all the way back in a slight drizzle.

Leap into bed with the Duke and Duchess of Windsor which is a tremendous book.

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Sunday September 21, 1975

17th after Trinity. A very important day for this diary, as you will discover further down in this entry. I arose at about 11am and had no breakfast.

John is still quite ill, but he's getting rude, abusive and obnoxious with everyone again so he must be on the mend.

Whilst Mum is cooking lunch I go round to 'George's' and catch Carole dressed in nothing but a bath towell - very sexy. I lay on the sofa listening to the 'Abraxas' LP by Santana. Carole comes in and we lay in one anothers arms like lovers from some corny love story. 'George' joins us and entertains us by telling us Tchaikovsky's life story. I knew he was a queer, but that was all I could contribute really.

Home for lunch at 2pm. Beautiful it was too. The afternoon was very sunny, breezy and warm.

Carole and 'George' come round for coffee at about 3, and C and I had our photographs taken on the lawn. She walked with me to the bus stop at 4 and saw me off to Leeds where I worked until 10.30. I left one and a half hours early because I was bored sick. Ringing Carole at 8pm she mentioned that I kept a diary. Silence fell, and I then said: 'You've been reading it haven't you?' 'Yes' came the reply, and she announced she was going to bed early. I put down the phone and feel annoyed and embarrassed both at the same time. To think she's read all the things I've said about her, before I even thought anything about her. I've called her a 'bitch' and all sorts. However, on reading my diary in the first place she has committed the biggest offence. I left at 10.30 and was home for 11.15. Carole is at our place and seems subdued. Everyone departs to bed leaving us to discuss things. We are both upset, me for writing such things in the first place, and she for reading it. Walked her home at 1am.

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