Saturday October 4, 1975

Nearly 1pm when I finally raised my weary head from the sheets. John is plodding around in the bedroom saying he's been at work all morning and calling me lazy this, lazy that and lazy the other.

Lynn and CD go into town , and I sit about waiting for Carole to ring me. She rings from 'George's' at about 3pm and orders me to go round with a pile of LPs and the Martin book on the Duke and Duchess of Windsor. I walk round in the rain half an hour later. John is of course with Maria (from now on I'll stop using the name 'George' when refering to Maria Macdonald. It's a childish practice dating back 5 years, and not a bit complementary to the young lady in question). They creep off upstairs some ten minutes after I arrive.

Carole and I pass a romantic afternoon alone, and we play 'Kimono my house' the LP by Sparks. She sews up the bottom of my jeans - whilst I am still wearing them - but whilst she's doing it I notice a change in her. The poor thing went very quiet, and looked really ill. I sat with my arms round her and she told me that one of her headaches had come on again. I told her to go to bed, and insist on my staying in with her for the evening, but she wouldn't hear of it. She came to the Hare & Hounds and I told her I'd willingly stay at home with her. Women! But at 10pm her head cleared and she laughed for the first time today. I didn't realise just how much I depend on her to keep me cheery. All the others wanted to go to the Cow & Calf, but Carole, Sue, Pete N and me decided to go back to Maria's for the night. Mr & Mrs Macdonald are in Cardiff or somewhere. So only the four of us were in until John and Maria come back at 2.30am.

Sue and Peter were alseep on the settee for the last hour whilst we played records. Home at 4am after coffee.

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Friday October 3, 1975

Wake at about 7.45 with a terrible hangover. This continues throughout the day and doesn't wear off until long after lunch.

The girls in the office were arguing like Hell and Sarah almost bit Kathleen's head off when K came in at 2.30. I like to keep out of situations like that because you don't stand a chance arguing with four of five of the fair sex.

Go down to the Hare with Carole, Lynn, Dave, John, 'George', Pete M, &c, &c. CD and CB are of course in. Hear from Andy that he and Keith wrecked Keith's car near the Commercial last night. One day they'll be killed and that's no exaggeration.

At 11pm Dave and Lynn surprise me by saying they fancy going to the Cow & Calf, where Lynn's never been before. So Carole, CD, Lynn, Dave and me go up in Dave's car.

We have a great night and do nothing but laugh - especially on the way home over the moor singing 'Chitty Chitty Bang Bang'. The sound of our voices must have echoed throughout Yorkshire on this cold, autumnal evening. CD especially made a terrific noise, and after dropping Carole off at Menston she said she could hear us going all the way to White Cross. Home at 2.30 feeling tired, but most of all hoarse.

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Thursday October 2, 1975

Excitement at work this morning. As ever, I was going through the Court Circular quenching my daily thirst for knowing what Her Majesty has been up to, and to my great surprise I see that the Duchess of Kent is to visit the Yorkshire Post on November 25. I know that over the years I have said horrible, unforgivable things about Yorkshire's own Royal duchess, but I can assure you that I've out-grown this childish phase now. The duchess does a brilliant job, and I must state categorically that the stories I wrote about her were nothing more than figments of my imagination. My vendetta against the House of Kent is over.

To Leeds in a thunderstorm with John at 7.30 and we meet about six lads in a despicable pub called the 'Tam O' Shanter' or something. After winding our way up the Headrow we end up in Cinderella's in something of a dislocated, drunken fashion. Raymond ends up grovelling on the floor, and Dave, the groom-to-be, is with a sizeable wench in a red dress. If his intended looks anything like that object I sincerely feel for him in his last week of freedom. John and I get a taxi from Cinderella's at 2am, and the thing cost £3.30. Split between the two of us it wasn't all that tragic. Slept soundly after devouring a sandwich.

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Wednesday October 1, 1975

Down to meet Carole at 8.15pm and sit with her mother, aunt and uncle until she is ready to go out. This family really is hilarious, and coupled with the Frankie Howerd Show on TV I was all in all on the verge of hysterics.

Go across to the Hare at about 8.45 with Carole and it's incredibly quiet. Only Helen and CD are to be seen, and the atmosphere of the place is changing weekly. See Raymond, who tells me that Dave (his little friend) is to be married a week on Saturday and is having his "stag" night tomorrow. This entails a pub crawl through Leeds and an orgy in Cinderella's afterwards. John and I are going, but I don't think any of the other lads will be. Keith isn't really 'in' with the Raymond Bond set.

To get a bit philosophical. What is love and how does one define it? This is the ten dollar question. ______told ________that she loved him and asked if he felt the same way too. His reply was that never having been in love before he needed time to make up his mind what being in love actually entails. Is it possible to go through life thinking you are in love with someone only to find that you actually never were? Carole seems upset when I say I fall in love with every girl I go out with. She says I am the only boy she's loved and cannot understand why I have managed to get hitched from the heart many times before. Am I just gullable, or is falling in love like falling off the kerb as far as I'm concerned?


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Tuesday September 30, 1975

A wet, unpleasant day. The end of September. It has been a lengthy month this, and we can now settle down in front of the TV on these unsettled evenings to watch such thrilling things as the Labour party conference from Blackpool, and all those adverts urging us to buy our Christmas presents early whilst we still have time. The prospects aren't thrilling at all when one thinks about it.

Work was uneventful and nothing is in the headlines at the time being. The usual rubbish about whether the Labour leadership will survive the party conference is all over the front page, but otherwise nothing of interest at all.

Home on the 5.15 (bus) for fish and chips (again). They do say that this greasy creation forms the staple diet of the working classes, and I tend to agree. I also think that they are the staple diet of the middle and upper classes because if you could see some of the people who queue for miles in all weathers outside Harry Ramsden's you'd know what I mean.

That is about all for today other than to mention that the Gadsby pair called upon us at about 8.30. They went out with Mum and Dad, and on arriving back here, we sat until nearly 1am talking about National Service, the energy crisis, politics and all the other useless subjects. Came to bed at 1.30 after compiling a letter to Carole. The first class post is eight and a half pence now! I'll have to try to curb my letter writing activities.

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Monday September 29, 1975

To the YP after 10am. Sarah isn't sexy any more, and I'm going to stop writing about women in these pages because I am frequently making a bloody fool of myself. I change my mind like nobody's business.

Hear from 'George' this evening that Carole is ill in bed with one of her funnny heads again. At 8pm John takes me down to Menston and I buy him a drink in the Hare & Hounds. It is a bloody nasty wet night, so I'm relieved when he takes me straight to Carole's door.

Mrs Phillips bundles me upstairs where the Angel is propped up in bed looking like a ghost on the operating table. We sit watching TV. (Yes, she's the owner of a little portable one), and I stay with her for a couple of hours. I sit hunched on her bed and laugh at the pathetic sight of the rose I gave her on Friday night. There is is, all wilting upon her dressing table. She was reading, and re-reading the letter I wrote to her some days ago, so I think it's about time I created another one for her. The Darling Girl loves me I think. I hate people loving me - it gives me the frightening sense of having to be reliable, responsible and faithful. However, she is perfection itself.

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Sunday September 28, 1975

18th after Trinity. Wake up at about 11am I think. John is still asleep and I go downstairs to investigate. Carole is lively, and so too are Sue & Peter who are carrying on like wrestlers in the lounge. 'George' is busy making cups of inviting, hot tea for all who want it. When John rises he proceeds to dash off to Ridgeway with 'George' and Carole, Sue, Peter and I remain for the so-called breakfast/lunch combined.

The four of us devour bacon, beans, mushrooms, fried bread, &c, and plenty of tea. Chris and Andy call in to see us before going to the Commercial, and I make (yes, you've guessed it) more hot tea, this time for Mum and Dad. Poor Mama is under the weather and lays motionless beneath her sheets like a Mummy - if you pardon the expression.

Sit with Carole all afternoon, and we watch a Tyrone Power film called 'The Mark of Zorro'. Corny, and ridiculously out-dated.

I worked 5pm until 10.30, and leave Leeds on the last bus.

John's party was a tremendous success again, and it looks like becoming something of an annual occasion.

Lynn and Dave are now over their first year of courtship and who knows just what the future will bring for this happy couple? Mum whispered the other day that she thinks they may be engaged when Lynn is 18. Who knows?

Home at about 11.15 and I eat masses of rabbit stew, which is delicious beyond words. See the end of a lousy James Dean film of which very little need be said.

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