Sunday January 29, 1978

8th Sunday before Easter.

A nauseating day. Out of bed at 10:30 which is far too early. Sit around like a paraplegic for most of the day, generally annoying everyone.

I forgot to mention that Tony was at yesterday's Bacchanalian spectacular. ______.

Lunch was good but I could barely keep my eyes open to devour it. Endure several films on the TV and attempted to read 'Lord Peter Wimsey'. Fail miserably.

Execution of King Charles I at Whitehall.

I forgot to phone Dave G about the holiday, but then I forget most things. That's all for today now. You ought to be thankful that I bothered writing anything at all. Blimey, why should I become a martyr just for your sake? On the subject of martyrs didn't King Charles I meet his maker on a day at the end of January? Hold on a minute, I'll just go look it up in Burke's (Peerage). Yes, he was decapitated at Whitehall on January 30, 1649, and buried at Windsor. That's 329 years ago tomorrow. Poor bugger.

GOODNIGHT

-=-

Saturday January 28, 1978

Sun rises 07:45 Suns sets 16:42

Up at 11. Naomi's 21st birthday party. I went to 10, Southway at noon. Susan was laughing as I headed down Hawksworth Lane with my coat pulled over my head reminiscent of a Saudi Arabian.

with WPC Carolle Jones.

Tremendous party. In answer to the question "Do Unitarian ministers get pissed at lunchtime?" it would only be fair to answer: "No, they do not. But they help everyone else become horribly so". The Rev. and Mrs Downing are very friendly, but old. His Reverence told me, quite confidentially, over the bottles in the kitchen, that he had celebrated his 39th birthday on his honeymoon.

Everyone you can possibly think of turned up. CB, Philip H, Carole, Fogarty, and Carolle Jones, of whom I am terribly fond. However, the vast quantity of booze proved hazardous for public relations. CB was pissed and in tears when her young man cleared off with fat Lynne from the Oval, and Fogarty took Carole home at about 3 after he discovered us fraternising in the 'bar'. She only had her arm through mine, nothing sexual. I felt awful about this because it ruined her afternoon. She told me she will write next week.

Naomi is divinely attractive, as is the nosh. Alas, garlic cropped up in most items on the menu. Richard Wellock had to smuggle CB home at 6 or perhaps 7, and Carolle J and I were left romantically linked. She's joining the police force a week on Monday.

Events from now become dreadfully hazy. Burley in Wharfedale, Flying Pizza, lager, cousin Dorothy, pool tables, Carolle in my old raincoat, &c. Yes, all this splashing around in my lager logged brain. I recoil in horror at the thought of visiting my fierce cousin Dorothy. C and I were horribly pissed, but as far as I can remember Dorothy was diplomatically silent on this. Carolle in my filthy, old raincoat looked spectacular. The Wharfedale Gate was the last pub we visited I'm sure. We were later refused entry at Il Trovatore before finding success at the Elma. Danced with Carolle all night and her last words to me were: "This time we must definitely keep in touch, Michael", said with a certain knowing look.

Home into bed with a gruesome headache at 1:45am.

-=-

Friday January 27, 1978

Rather a wet, damp day. I made an exit from the obnoxious YP at 12. Well, no, it was almost 1pm because I had to inform Fred Manby of an engagement between one of the Beckett family and a granddaughter of Colin Forbes Adam. (You won't appreciate the great importance of this at all).

 The Hotel S'Estanyol is booked. Deposits have been gathered in and paid. Nothingness until playing out time.

Sue and Pete took me to the Fox at 9 where CB and Mary entertained me.We had a bloody marvellous night too. Martyn, Peter M, Steve H and Tony came in, but left after one drink. Sue and Pete left with Chippy and Gus for the Malt Shovel which left me alone with the two gorgeous women.

At 10:30 we went up to the Crown at Yeadon. CB immediately went 'off' because of Philip's presence (by 'off' I of course mean miserable). She says she would drop everything and go off with him tomorrow if he were to say the word, but she thinks the word will never actually come.

Everybody in the Crown played the 'Michael Miles' game. Yes, when you're playing that you know things are pretty bad. Nobody can say 'yes' or 'no' and when you slip up everyone in the pub yells 'DONG'. Funny, eh?

CB is even more gorgeous and our friendship is probably deeper than ever. I can read her like a book (which I suppose is better than reading someone like a chest of drawers).

Home at 11:30-12 o'clock. CB came in a for a quick glass of vino and then went off home. Tomorrow afternoon should be riotous. Do Unitarian ministers get pissed at lunchtime? This is a very important question which I hope to answer tomorrow.  Goodnight.

-=-

Thursday January 26, 1978

Australia Day
 Republic Day (India)

 It snowed again. It seems to snow every Thursday.

Some final decisions on the summer holiday were taken. The Hotel S'Estanyol is a definite now and all concerned are falling into line.

We received our National Savings Certificates with the wages. One hundred pounds! Haven't I done well?

Martyn phoned to discuss the holiday. He and Tony were out last night 'living it up' with a couple of birds. ________.

Mrs Rawnsley's mother is on her death bed at 60. ________.

Oh, CB phoned at 3:00 o'clock. She and Mary are coming to see me at the Fox tomorrow. It was so good to hear her and it's marvellous to know she'll be at Naomi's 21st. I have been slightly worried about Naomi's party, what with His Reverence and the necessary cucumber sandwiches, but now I know that CB will be giggling loudly in some central position I can heave a sigh of contentment.

Watched TV tonight. Saw a documentary on the Ballet Rambert which was excellent. I'm fastly becoming a ballet fan, you know. I find the movement and athletic ability tremendous.

Pete, Sue, Chippy and Gus came in at eleven. I pity the poor Hotel S'Estanyol.

-=-

Wednesday January 25, 1978

Conversion of St. Paul.

No holiday news today because the magical Michelle is taking a day off. I spoke to Denise on the blower, a very brief conversation, because she was being stampeded under foot by milling, holiday-crazed Bradford folk.

I am battling along with 'Whose Body?' by Miss Sayers. I've glanced at Edward VI too.

Dad phoned John and Sheila because they are supposed to be heading for a new life in the Canaries tomorrow, but they've postponed their departure for a fortnight. Is he going to go at all? One certainly wonders. We have heard of great prospects before regarding Uncle John. He is however, a wonderful guy.

-=-

Tuesday January 24, 1978

A provisional booking has been made at the Hotel S'Estanyol, San Antonio, but on the far side of the bay. Michelle's done really well to find places for 7 of us when everything is so booked up. I phoned Dave G who likes the idea but is unhappy with the flight times (1:30am going out, and 7:30am returning). Martyn is a different kettle of fish though. _____________.He is also unhappy with the dates (July 7-July 21) and says he'd prefer to go at the end of July. __________.

Got a letter from Jacqui. The party is still set for Feb 4, and Peter Sate's party is on March 18. I replied, but only in brief. I was in no corresponding frame of mind today.

Lady Jane Wellesley and the Prince of Wales.

Interesting items: Lady Jane Wellesley has been at Sandringham with the Prince of Wales over the weekend and was ferried about with much secrecy by the Queen. Will HRH be spliced by his 30th birthday? Oh God. After all I've said about Lady Jane. Poor Davina Sheffield - I always thought she would make a lovely fixture on the palace balcony.

Other news: Margaret Thatcher's voice has altered radically in recent times. In her three years as Conservative party leader the pitch of Mrs T's voice has changed from that high-pitched school ma'am drawl to one of depth, humour and level headedness. Am I perhaps imagining this?

Bed at 12 with Lord Peter Wimsey.

-=-

Monday January 23, 1978

 Saw Dave safely off to Manchester this morning. He seems to get on tremendously with Sue and Peter.

Holiday fever. Spent the day in contact with Michelle at WH Smith's in Bradford. She managed to provisionally book 5 places at the Marco Polo in San Antonio for 12 nights from July 12. The five are self, Martyn, David, Peter and Susan. At home tonight Susan suggests that perhaps Chippy and Gus (Peter's buddies) are game too. I play hell because Michelle has spent all day working her heart out and now we're altering the plans. However, seven holidaymakers make a better team than 5.

Great events are taking place at the YP.  It is rumoured that Carol J is _____________________.
Things have to be clarified, but Marilyn's information service is usually reliable. Bloody Hell!

I phoned Martyn tonight. Told him the plans and he's in with us. My ring is beyond repair, unfortunately. You know the one I mean, it belonged to John Henry Rhodes, my great-grandfather, who was presented with it on his 21st birthday in June, 1887.

Bed to read after 11:00.

-=-