Friday December 9, 1977

_.Sunny day. I ventured out of doors for the first time in over a week. Went to Leeds at 12 to collect my meagre £28. Disgusting for 1977, isn't it? Jim Callaghan should be flogged. Spent £30 in just over an hour. Christmas presents are the main drain on my finances. Bought John and Maria a picture; Lynn and Dave a set of kitchen weighing scales (Oh my Lord) amongst other things. Saw Marilyn, but otherwise my expedition passed by uneventfully. I also bought three records.

Home at 3. Ernest came to tea and Mum and I entertained him to drinks. He told me several hilarious lewd tales of his experiences in Crete during the war. Stories of lust and prostitution, &c. We both became quite pissed. Dear Mama took no part in this sordid orgy. At 5 she nipped out to see Dr Mellor (just a check up).

The Queen's

I phoned the LGI at tea time and they said Carole had just left. Thank God for that. However, is it just a Christmas break? The New Year will reveal all no doubt. It was wonderful to hear her. She was so overjoyed at getting out. Where do we go from here?

Phoned Peter Mather. We went to the Fox at 8:00pm. Joined by Tony and Martyn at 9:30. ______. From the Fox we went to the Queen's on Apperley Lane. Quite dead, as far as I can recall, and then onto Oakwood. I became abominably intoxicated and remember very little. I do recall coming out in the rain at 2:00am and devouring an Indian curry.

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Thursday December 8, 1977

The snow disappears. Feel much better. I have tired of GBS's plays and I am 'glued' to a romantic novel about John of Gaunt and Katherine Swynford. Not my usual style of reading but it's excellent.

Master Phillips is to be christened Peter Mark Andrew by Dr Coggan at Buckingham Palace on Dec 22. The Queen's grandson called Pete! I suppose they've named him after Mark's Dad, Maj Phillips. Andrew is for the baby's uncle of course. Mark is self explanatory.

Carole phoned. They are letting her out tomorrow. David G phoned. Why don't I go over on Saturday, he asks? Why not indeed. _________. For a couple of quid who can argue with the lad? Blimey, Stockport one week, Muswell Hill the next. I'm the nearest thing to a peasant jet-setter. Dave says Glenn is back from his Miami sojourn.

I'm going to Leeds tomorrow to collect my pittance and purchase five or six 'Chrisy' presents.

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Wednesday December 7, 1977

Snow upon snow. A thick, white layer everywhere.

Carole phoned me at 5:00pm to thank me for the letter. She says she's probably coming home on Friday. I'm elated. ____________. My letter must have been sentimental. It's made her realise just what I'm thinking. I put Mum on and they chatted for ages.______________. Today I wrote to Kathryn (Young) and Christine. Dad's typewriter in the house prompted this industriousness.

It's becoming very 'Christmasy' you know. Mum is playing 'The Floral Dance' by the Brighouse and Rastrick Brass Band on the record player and the combination of this, the weather, and general cheer will undoubtedly be confusing Santa into coming early.

I have laid hands on a pair of cord trousers from Mum's catalogue. Black ones - very nice too.

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Tuesday December 6, 1977

_.A day at home. Feeling much, much better. Read 'The Millionairess' by G.B.S. Finished it.

Carole will have received my letter today. I hope she likes it. She has been complaining that I never write.

Dad brought his typewriter home from the office and so I wrote to Jacqui. I enjoy typing.

We turned off the television fairly early. Mama is knitting me a large, chunky pullover. _________.

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Monday December 5, 1977

_.Much better today. Out of bed by 10:30 and spent the day reading 'The Millionairess' by G.B.S. I'm in stitches at much of the dialogue. It's far better than 'The Apple Cart'.

Had kippers at lunch and pork this evening.

Harold Pinter.

Peter N hobbled up to see us. Lynn spent the evening with David at Pool in Wharfedale.

The TV was crap except for Barry Humphries, but he was only on for 30 minutes or so. At 9 o'clock we switched off. I walked around the house, hands in pockets, complaining I had nothing to do. It was reminiscent of my childhood. I have decided to write a play. I'm going to be a second Mr Shaw or Harold Pinter.

Jacqui phoned. She can't get any specs like Groucho Marx, or at least she can't from Derek Sate. I tackled Ernest tonight and he said he might have a pair somewhere. Back to Jacqui: she was in high spirits and sympathetic about the Bubonic plague (my illness). I also wrote to Carole and told her I'm at home. _____.

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Sunday December 4, 1977

_.2nd in Advent. Slightly better. In fact I'm a lot better. Just watched TV the whole day and ate a sizeable Sunday dinner at about 6:00pm.

Watched 'Royal Heritage'. It was about Victoria and Albert. 'The Count of Monte Cristo' is finished! Over a thousand miserable pages in about as many days. It's nothing to be proud of at all, Michael Rhodes. Two months to read a book. I really should be horse whipped. I bet Mr Dumas wrote the bloody thing in half that time.

Mum and Dad went out for a drink tonight and I watched a play called 'Waste' on the BBC. Quite good.

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Saturday December 3, 1977

_.Mother's coffee morning in aid of Mark Sansom, a 19 month-old brain damaged child whose parents want to send him for treatment to Philadelphia, U.S.A. About 60 people turned up. I stayed in my bed and was visited by my nephew. He must think I'm a lazy rat. Sue came up to see me and had me in stitches when she told me she'd given a cup of hot coffee to an old lady with Parkinson's Disease, who proceeded to shake it all round the room.

I got out of bed at about tea time and remained in circulation until about midnight. Didn't hear from 'the lads'. Saw a Jack Lemmon film on the BBC which was hilarious.

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