Thursday October 26, 1978

Carole phoned. It was marvellous to hear from her because I have been worrying about reports about her health. She just wanted to know what I am getting up to and said it would be nice to bump into me. We talked about John and Maria and she said they should be at home in Yorkshire where they belong. Fogarty's name wasn't mentioned but she enquired whether Jacq was still on the scene. Her "swimming accident" on holiday was in fact a recurrence of last year's mysterious ailment. She has always been a strong swimmer.

Tonight went with Pete, Chippy, Gus, Frank, &c to the Shoulder (of Mutton), Menston Hospital Club, and then Oakwood Hall. The lads vowed never to return to Oakwood after the humiliation of three weeks ago, but there we went. I was pissed up on lager and cider. They all joked about ____________________.

Christine and I must do Oakwood next week. Home at 2am.

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Wednesday October 25, 1978

Excuse my scribbling in felt tipped pen. My bottle of scarlet ink is downstairs and I can't be bothered chasing after it.

I really do think that I am in love, yet again, with Sarah. The YP just wouldn't exist without her. Life would be a drag if I didn't see her every day. We plan to go to the Regent at Chapel Allerton on Saturday, and afterwards to a party, no doubt. _______________________________.


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Tuesday October 24, 1978

Moon's Last Quarter 01:34

United Nations Day (1945)

Wet, cold and windy. Climbed out of bed at 10am. Went with Mum and Dad to Morrison's to help with the grotesque shopping. Supermarkets are beastly dens. I wouldn't be at all surprised to learn that William Morrison is really Wilhelm von Moritzon, the SS chief and war criminal extraordinaire. Not even Adolf Hitler could have conjured up something quite so evil as a vast, music~filled chamber heavily laden with packets of breakfast cereal and cellophane~wrapped streaky bacon. Hideous.

To the YP twixt 5 and 12. Campbell Spray was sneering about Jacq. Miss Sate really is the limit encouraging C. Spray in this ridiculous fashion. I will not play Edward Langtry to her Lillie.

Home in a dull, uninteresting taxi at 12. Cheese on toast, Ovaltine and a pomegranate. Weird, yet pleasant. To bed at 1:32am. It took me 12 minutes to complete this page.

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Monday October 23, 1978

An article in one of the bawdy newspapers said that our own dear Prince of Wales leads a very normal and active sex life. I never imagined for one minute that Davina Sheffield was merely his partner at billiards. However, discussing the sexual antics of our heir apparent is quite simply not on.

This afternoon Jacq and I went to the Ostlers. For some reason I had to get out of the office. Sarah was being particularly painful. She is always very trying after a riotous weekend. Like a baby, she is sulky, bad tempered and tired.

Alison and Mrs Dixon phoned and spoke to Lynn and Mum. Alison has asked Lynn to go down and see her. She and David are going on Thursday. Even Dave is looking pale and emotional about it all. He was quite fond of John P. _________.

Saw a Robert Mitchum film tonight and went to bed at about 11. Read The Duke and Duchess of Windsor by Ralph G. Martin (again). The poor old Duchess (of Windsor) is on her last legs in Paris. The powers to be down at Thames Television are no doubt praying for her end to come to coincide with the start of the tv series "Edward and Mrs Simpson".

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Sunday October 22, 1978

23rd after Trinity.

Slept until noon. My God nobody can accuse me of being an idle waster. If I keep going with my marathon walks I can see me making the 1980 Moscow Olympics.

Jacq came over at 12:30 just as I was splashing around in the sink and we went immediately to the Commercial, supposedly for beef sandwiches, but Annie had sold out, so we had to resort to alcohol. At 2 we got on a bus to White Cross and had fish and chips at Harry Ramsden's. Quite divine.

A brisk walk up Thorpe Lane and that was my exercise over and done with for the weekend. I just sat in front of the tv all afternoon with the two ladies. Daddy was out on the streets defending the citizens of our crime~ridden township. Soweto isn't a patch on Guiseley.

Boring 'Lillie Langtry' was on tv again and although I find Francesca Annis quite a little scorcher I am afraid the script and action ~ or lack of it ~leaves a lot to be desired. We are into six episodes and she hasn't even had Bertie, Prince of Wales, in bed yet. Talking of bed, I went to mine at 11 o'clock.

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Saturday October 21, 1978

Sun rises 07:34 Sun sets 17:56

I came out of my coma at approximately 8 o'clock this morning. I thought, once again, that my end had come. These feelings of forthcoming doom, yeah of death, are recurring and on an increasing and alarming scale.

I took Jacq into town where she had to show her face at Dacre Son & Hartley and I got a bus home for 10 o'clock. Had a cup of tea with Mum and Dad and then fell into my wondrous bed until 3pm when I was awakened by Lynn on the phone wanting Alison's number. She wants to ring to discuss details of the wedding next week. I went back to bed until 5.

I emerged to have tea and within minutes Lynn and Dave arrived from Pool (in Wharfedale) and she was sobbing like a baby. The worst has happened. John P called off the wedding this morning. Alison will be distraught. Lynn had spoken to Mrs Dixon, who had only been told ten minutes before. The situation is terrible. _________________________.

I was out to Leeds again at 7:30 and Jacq and I went to the George where Haydn and his friends were gathered before heading to another party. Neither of us were in party spirits. Tiredness from last night and the sad news from Winchester just seem to have flattened the whole evening.

We went back to the Y.W.C.A and drank fruity punch and watched Iranians, Greeks, and other various nationalities leaping around to Boney M and the delights of 'Rasputin'.

At 2am and after a 5ft Persian homosexual had asked me if I wanted to dance with him, I sent Jacq to bed and proceeded to walk home. It was almost 5am, and drizzling slightly, when I fell through the door. Knackered.


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Friday October 20, 1978

Steve Sharp's leaving party this evening.

This afternoon Sarah, Carol J and I went to Parker's and then to Len's for a few lunchtime drinkies to get me in the right frame of mind for the festivities. The girls are refusing to go to Steve's orgy because the Eagle pub on North Street is something of a rough dive, they say. What does it matter?

At 6 o'clock John Mac took Alan Macgregor and I to the Eagle. Timothy Taylor's bitter was drained in vast quantities from the outset. I sat with Steve, Geoff Winter, Sue Tirbutt, Jill Armstrong, Fred (Manby) &c. I collected Jacq at 7:30 after fighting my way through the vast crowds in Leeds queueing to see Mr Revolta in 'Grease'. I am shocked that millions of apparently educated people should sink to such depths of incredible madness.

By 10:30 we were all quite pissed. At one point Steve used the back of my tie to write down a lengthy drinks order. Oh My God! It all looked very 'punk' anyway.

Jacq and I went with John MacM and a new lady YP reporter to Steve's place at Alwoodley where we drank ourselves stupid. I was violently sick on the manicured front lawn, and after a few gins I passed into a tranquil state of unconsciousness from which I didn't emerge until morn. In the meantime Jacq was mauled by Campbell Spray, and she sustained injuries to her left ankle on the dance floor.

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