Monday February 7, 1977

Maria and JPH.

A wet, rotten day. After lunch I went down to the cobblers, yes cobblers. Had an old pair of shoes rendered wearable. Took a pair of trousers to the dry cleaners and books to the library. A really industrious afternoon. Got soaked through. Move on at 3.30 or so to Maria's. She is entertaining the former Margaret Appleyard, Ian's sister, and her baby, Daniel, aged one. When Margaret has left Maria goes on to me about my female problem, which must now be known to everyone except Lynne. I agree I ought to end it before it goes on much longer. I bravely say 'Oh, I'll do it tonight', but know only too well that I'll find some excuse at the last minute.

with JPH.

Lynne comes at 7.30 and sees how miserable I am but foolishly I say nothing. She tries to be so nice, which only makes it worse. To the Ratcliffe residence so that Lynne can collect the holiday brochures - she wants to book her holiday tomorrow. Then have fish and chips and go to the Fox & Hounds where I have half of lager. When she dropped me off at home she asked Mum why I'm such a 'miserable sod'.






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Sunday February 6, 1977

Septuagesima. The Silver Jubilee of Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth the Second. Bells peal and prayers are said for the Sovereign lady in churches throughout the realm. To celebrate the joyous, historic event Mum, Dad, Sue, Peter N and myself  went for lunch to the Birch Inn at Wilsill, near Pateley Bridge. Four or five pints of lager and a sirloin. Peter had a steak too, Mum had fish, Susan a curry and Dad a ploughman's lunch.

Birch Tree Inn, Wilsill

At 2pm we returned homeward and called on John & Maria just in time for JPH's liquid liver lunch. A messy business. He is a beautiful child.

To the YP at 5.30 and have a nightmare of evening. Rang Lynne. She's at Pickering cinema with Karl and Peter. Rang her back at 10pm. She tells me of her weekend cake baking saga and the dog's latest illness, &c. Home feeling miserable.

Saturday February 5, 1977

'I may have the body of a weak and
feeble woman'

Rang Lynne this morning with every intention of 'calling it a day'. By 'It' I of course mean our love life, and by 'love life' I of course mean going down the pub three or four times a week and behaving quite respectably and boring. That famous Rhodes cowardice raised it's famous head, and I was sat on Mama's bed dialling. I just couldn't do it and we ended up discussing the weather and rising sugar prices. Oh, why am I such a feeble man? Indeed 'I may have the body of a weak and feeble woman' applies just as much to me as it did to the Empress Josephine*** or whoever coined the phrase in the first place. I am always in some kind of shitting mess, aren't I, dear, patient readers? If you are reading this please deposit this diary in the nearest dustbin because it just isn't worth it at all.

With the lovely Naomi Downing ...

Out to the Hare with Chris and Tony at 8.30. Tony is in a rotten mood._______.We move on to the Vineyard at Ilkley and then Oakwood Hall and he cheers up. Susan Hollins was at Oakwood celebrating her 21st birthday, but no one else. Not even Naomi and Co. I like Miss Downing a good deal. She makes me feel that I'm not the only piss artist in the country. A good girl all the same, and I like to have Maria on about her.


***Elizabeth the First, you idiot.

Friday February 4, 1977

Sorry about all this. It's an accident (referring to scribblings and crossings out at the head of the page). Anyway, to get down to business.: Lynne doesn't arrive until 8 and we don'e get to the Hare until NINE. Have a rotten couple of hours. Feel 'off it' and completely shagged out and Lynne looks like 2lb of wet haddock.

2lb of wet haddock.

 

I try and liven myself up by going to talk to Judith. It's no good - things are going to have to drastically change. Home in a downpour when the pub shuts and Lynne leaves for Thornton-le-Dale. I push Peter's car down the road (I always assumed cars had engines?) Change hurriedly and go with Tony and Martyn to Il Trovatore dropping off Janet Simon at home on the way. See Denise, Carole, Karen Moorhouse, Naomi Downing, &c. Oh and Chris and Pete M. Chris and Pete storm off when C sees Martyn with Miss Moorhouse. What a mix-up. I chat seriously with Carole and tell her she's fabulous and that Lynne and I virtually through. Home pissed.

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Thursday February 3, 1977

Busy day at the YP again. At lunchtime I went to Schofield's to claim Mama's repaired coffee perculator which I carry off without having to pay anything. Look in Austick's and run my fingers through 'Majesty' by Robert Lacey. I shall have to buy it.

Ring Lynne. She's getting a cold, pneumonia, or something. I feel bored and utterly flattened. I fancy having a passionate, close, sexy romance with a lusty bombshell. Lynne just isn't up to it. Where will it all end?

Jim Callaghan: Scottish referendum

To Yeadon cinema with Lynne to see 'The Omen' (Yes, I've seen it before). It is good. Lee Remick especially. She goes off to Roundhay at 11pm in a gust of wind, hail and conglomoration of other elements.

Sit with a Scotch in front of the TV watching one of President Carter's fireside chats to the Universe from his White House parlour. Greasy little man. Never trust a president with gold fillings and Mohair pullovers that's what I say.

Quake in my socks at the late night news with Miss (Angela) Rippon. Evidently, Scotland, Wales and other bits of the UK are going to have one of those referendums in November to decide whether they want to get out of the Empire or not. We under-privileged English do not have a say in the matter. The tartan maniacs and mean leek-growing sods can pull out on us at any time but we English do not have the right to say whether we want  them to go or not.  Jim Callaghan really is the bloody limit. We should have a referendum asking the simple question: "Don't you think it's about time the Labour Government resigned? Answer 'Definately' or 'Yes'.

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Wednesday February 2, 1977

Forgive my use of the biro, but once again I have mislaid my fountain pen. It'll turn up. A rotten day. On the way to the YP with Jim I see, with horror, CB slumped in her wrecked car half way across New Road Side (Horsforth) surrounded by blood stained rescuers and salvage equipment. What can have happened?

Miss Rushworth

Judith rings to say she's actually ill and has to miss tonight's 'Pink Panther' spectacular. Are we jinxed or something? I know all about 'true love finding a way' but I think we've well and truly stopped it in its tracks this time. What's your opinion anyway of two-timers? Please do not forget I am only 22 and have never done it before. Blimey, some people do worse things. Look at the Black Panther for instance. Should I break with Lynne altogether? Come on, you lot out there. Can't you see I need some help? For God's Sake Help me someone!

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Tuesday February 1, 1977

Go to Pudsey at 12.30 to have lunch with Auntie Mabel. She makes a massive meal and gets great pleasure from stuffing me to bursting point. She shows me a pile of old newspapers including a copy of the Daily Herald from June '53 featuring the Coronation and a pathetic magazine of the love-match between Princess Margaret and Lord Snowdon.

After the enormous lunch it's to Pudsey cemetery to find my great-grandparents Wood and Wilson. We're soon amidst the gravestones conducting a search of Pudsey's dead centre.

Sarah Ann Wood (1866-1926)

My Wilson grandparents have no headstone, and after an hour wallowing in the mud we find the Wood grave beneath a holly bush. My great-grandmother, Sarah Ann Wood (nee Carling) died December 22, 1926, aged 60 (born 1866?) and my great-grandfather, Harry Wood, died June 13, 1928, aged 69 (born 1859?). My great-uncle John Cyril James Wood, also in the tomb, died September 4, 1924, aged 19. An interesting find. Back to Mabel's for tea and a night in front of the TV. I'm sure she enjoyed today's macabre adventure. She was only a child when she last visited her grandparents' graves. Leave her at 9 o'clock and home by 10.