Thursday March 23, 1978

Maundy Thursday.

Mama and Papa had a Maundy Thursday wine party for the Nasons and Edith & Ernest. I was subdued for some reason. Mama pointed this out to me. I cannot be forever hurtling around like a circus act but today I do feel uncommunicative, quick tempered and morose. Sorry. The wine flowed nicely but I stuck to ale for a change. I did not want a crashing hangover for tomorrow's expedition up the Wharfedale valley. David L phoned to see what I was up to and he said he was going to call in tomorrow with a rabbit for Mama as an Easter gift. An Easter Bunny as it were. He was very cheerful & it was great to hear him.

Princess Margaret: 'parasite'.

I heard from Christine today and she was sad at the thought of my absence over the festive season. I told her I would phone tomorrow with my holiday itinerary. If it hails and pisses down tomorrow one place where I will not be closeted over Easter is in a tent, waterproof or otherwise.

Mr Prefab Mobile-Home, MP, today referred to Princess Margaret as a 'parasite' in the House of Commons. The acting Speaker asked him to withdraw the insult and the offensive communist swine did so. These terrible men really should be suspended from sittings following disgraceful episodes of this kind. The poor princess cannot even answer her critics and must go on, undaunted, with her public duties with the brilliance and expertise for which she is renowned throughout the entire civilized world.

-=-

Wednesday March 22, 1978

I am sick and tired of the media's cruel, extremely rude and misinformed treatment of Princess Margaret. Two years ago it started in the 'Sunday People' and now the drivel is being expounded by the BBC. Tonight was no exception. I sat and seethed in my chair. Her private affairs are being debated in the Commons tomorrow at the instigation of that lefty, Commie bastard with the silly name like a mobile home or 'prefab', Mr Canavan. It is a pity that in times of ruination and national collapse we have taken to trying to destroy just about the only positive product left ~ the monarchy. However, they've been insulted before and have lived to tell the tale with the exception of King Charles I. So I'll just keep my fingers crossed.

To come back down to earth: it was pay day because of Easter looming up. Isn't it funny that the crucifixion and resurrection of Jesus Christ should determine on which day I collect my £30?

A letter from David L reminding me of his return home at the weekend. Oh, no. I'm off camping and so I won't see the lad until next week sometime. I shall have to phone him and make amends.I feel terrible about the way I shunned poor David for most of last year _________________.

-=-

Tuesday March 21, 1978

Royal Hotel, Bowness

Mama and Papa returned from the Cumbrian hills. They stayed at Bowness last night at the Royal Hotel, where Queen Adelaide, wife of William IV, once frequented. They are chucking money around like water these days. I am sure it's all for the best. Why stay enclosed in the same miserable four walls when the whole wide world is beckoning? Go on, Ma and Pa ~ go out and let them have it. (If all this is getting just a little too much for you just flick over a couple of pages until I'm back to normal again). Well, what do I have to say for myself today other than discuss the adventures of Mama and Papa? To be frank, nothing at all. I could say that it is the Tuesday before Easter and that I was born on the Tuesday before Easter 23 years ago. Here I am in my 24th year and I'm still a novice at everything with no money and even less ambition. I'm no further now in securing a place in society as I was ten bloody years ago. However, that is me. You've got me and I am afraid that you are all, each and every one of you,  going to have to make the best of me.

-=-

Monday March 20, 1978

Work was busy. Sarah should have been back from her revolting week with the equally revolting Welsh but poor Delia broke her arm yesterday, falling over the telephone, and is, by all accounts, in a terrible state. Sarah will be tied up now playing Dr Kildare for weeks on end.

Peter James Nason is twenty today. Sue and I had tea quite alone and then Peter came and carried her off for a drink somewhere. Lynn got in later and we watched a comedy film on the BBC which gave us a good laugh. In one scene Leslie Phillips was in the bath with a steaming hot pressure cooker trying to get at the contents.

We had a few glasses of wine to celebrate Peter's birthday, and when they came back at 11 the three of us (Lynn having retired to her boudoir) cooked a meal and noshed away like pigs. Really enjoyable. They say that a camping jaunt is organised for Hawes at the weekend and I am invited with some gusto. No doubt to 'chaperone' my little sister who will otherwise be the sole girl in a tent on some windswept heath with fifteen drunken males. I agreed to join the party.

The thought of the Fox and Hounds with all those happy, smiling faces featured greatly in my decision making. Anyway, I'll have no money to speak of and the delights of darling Christine cannot be obtained free of charge. Do not, dear reader, assume that I am paying the above mentioned dear lady for carnal delights. I'm just pointing out that vodka does not grow on trees.

-=-

Sunday March 19, 1978

6th in Lent
Palm Sunday
Summer Time: advance clocks one hour at 0:2.00

A revolting Palm Sunday if ever there was one. Quite seriously hung over, as you all expect me to be on these occasions. Crawled about the flat like a paraplegic toad. Jacq wasn't as bad, but then Trixie arrived with masses of cardboard and looking very delicate. A couple of black coffees later and she roared away in her X19 in the direction of Windsor. (The cardboard boxes are for some of Jacq's personal effects which are to be transported to Leeds in a matter of weeks).

Jan and Dave.

Jacq.

Dave and Jan emerged from bed at some point in the afternoon and the four of us toasted ourselves in Southern Comfort. It looks as if I'll never see Jan again. She's a funny girl and can be awfully moody. Jacq puts it down to the Australian climate. Dave, who is from Newcastle, is a decent sort. After the beverage we larked about on the balcony with our cameras. Jacq took one of my hanging from the kitchen window with a pair of rubber gloves trailing limply from my fingers.

At 4:30 Jacq and I left for Victoria. Pouring with rain. Fond farewells were spoken and I mounted the bus with a pile of her LPs to store at Pine Tops until her arrival.  The coach windows steamed up within minutes and as the coach left all I could make out was a tiny blurred mass waving around in the London gloom. Slept all the way to Leeds and got in for 10:30.

Mama and Papa having patched up their differences have gone to Cumbria for a few days.

-=-

Saturday March 18, 1978

Sun rises 06:09 sun sets 18:10

Straight up and down to the Victoria Stakes pub to meet Pete and Nick. The four of us have a giggle but while I am relieving myself in the gents Pete expressed to Jacq his feeling that I will not stand the rigorous pace set for this ~ his party day. On my return from the damp chasm I vowed before man and God that no man shall say I failed by the time the cock crows thrice on the morrow. Laughter reigned.

At 2:30 we went to see Arsenal v. Bristol City. The Arsenal won 4-1, but nothing at all happened in the second half. I enjoyed it though. I haven't been to match of any consequence since I went to see Leeds v. Manchester Utd at Elland Rd in 1973.

I left Jacq at the flat at 6 and joined Pete and an Irish guy ~ no he was Welsh ~ and his store detective girlfriend in the Minstrel Boy. Things took a natural course. We ventured to Barnet and then a party at the Thatched Barn wherever that is. I met Derek Sate and his wife Carol, and Trixie (my favourite). All hopelessly intoxicated. Back to Trixie's between 3 and 4am but what took place is all purely conjecture. We moved the clocks on one hour (Oh, God!) and drank whisky. Peter gave me a wink of approval as we left. Indeed, I had stood the pace. Pete's friend Nick was unconscious.

-=-

Friday March 17, 1978

St Patrick (Ireland)

Bank Holiday (N Ireland)

I was awakened at 6:00am by the radio singing away in the Luxembourg tongue. The bedroom light was burning brightly and within minutes I was cramming clothes into a ruck sack with one hand and brushing my teeth with the other hand. All very chaotic. Left at 7 with a happy heart and a dry, thickly lined throat. Drinking heavily before a long drive to the capital is not ideal.

Jacq was waiting at Victoria. To the Shakespeare pub nearby where gin ans Scotch ran like water ... or dry ginger. Jacq looked very well peeping at me beneath a fringe. Her long skirts with frilly petticoats hanging below. It was so good to see her.

Back at the flat I had rounds of toast whilst listening to the Doobie Brothers Greatest Hits singing away on her record player. Indeed, all is right with the world.

Tonight we met Cheryl and Steve and went to an Italian place on Muswell Hill Broadway. I had no appetite but enjoyed myself. Cheryl is a natural comedienne. Afterwards, Steve took us to his rugby club where the floor is swamped beneath two inches of beer and pissed guys stand raucously flashing everywhere. By this time I was already in financial straights. My tight jeans and boots didn't look quite as out of place at they do in Yorkshire.












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