Thursday September 13, 1973

Grandfather's send off. Go to Benton Park in the morning and come home at 12.0. Mother, Dad and I leave for Pudsey to collect grandfather's oldest friend, Joe Dickinson. He seems upset when he gets in the car, and Dad diplomatically keeps him talking to prevent him dwelling on the sadness. Arrive at Liversedge, or was it Heckmondwike (?) at 1.30. The four of us go for a coffee. See Uncle Harry at 1.45.

The day is somewhat cold and overcast and the five of us go into the local park in order to kill time before 2.30. Auntie Janet comes running into the park to tell us that Auntie Jadwega is coming on the bus (from Nottingham) to Heckmondwike, where we can then meet her. By 2.30 she is still nowehere to be seen. We can do nothing but leave for the chapel of rest without her. Uncle Joe, Auntie Ethel, Jeremy and Janet and young Nicholas are coming down the street with Uncle John and Auntie Sheila. Arrive chapel for brief prayers. Grandma, looking very brave, with her sons, arrives. Thus, we are all assembled. Still no Auntie Jadwega.

Go to the crematorium, where Auntie Dorothy is waiting. No Uncle Les or family. Terrible service - the Salvation Army. It's not as though I have any prejudice against the Salvation Army, but they made it such a theatrical affair. It's not as if Grandfather ever possessed a tamborine. The cremation was terrible. All ultra-modern and repulsive.

It appealed very much to my sense of humour when, at the end, a hymn came on the record player and the curtains were drawn across the coffin. Somewhat like a Dave Allen sketch on tv. One cannot beat a good traditional burial. Auntie Janet was screaming at the end.

Leave at 3.10 for Grandma's at Nelson St, Liversedge, where about 20 members of the Rhodes family are gathered. Auntie Dorothy went immediately home of course. Pandemonium! Auntie Jadwega arrived in a taxi at 3.15 - all in black with a massive black umberella. (She's the Polish-born wife of Dad's brother, Uncle Bert). She was very distressed of having missed the funeral of her father-in-law. Still half in and half out of the taxi she was shouting in her thick Polish accent: "Oh I could cry. We go first to Wakefield, then to Barnsley Oh so slowly. I vos so mad." The noise she was making had everybody out on the street and Grandma with Auntie Janet came to investigate. She bounded from the car and embraced Grandma. "Oh I am so fumigated!" (I think she meant to say she was 'fuming' with rage and not fumigated.) Poor Auntie Eddy (her nickname) had come all the way from Nottingham only to remain at Grandma's for 10 minutes, clutching her big umberella between her massive knees. I think she must be 16st.

Anyway, I hope she really didn't mean 'fumigated' or else our house is lousy today. I may joke, but I love her really. Leave at 3.45. Take poor Joe Dickinson home and bring Auntie Jadwega back to Pine Tops for tea. Spend a quiet night. Mum is being experimented on by Aunt Jadwega, who is a masseuse.

After Dad had taken Eddy for her train at 8 he went out for a drink with Mum and Uncle Harry, my favourite uncle on Dad's side of the family. They came home at 12.0. with loads of drink, and we all sat until 2am. Uncle H stayed the night.

What a day!

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Wednesday September 12, 1973

I am really sick of school. I cannot work or think straight. History is all muddled and I do not care whether I pass an examination ever again or not. My love for June shadows all other things. How will I ever come to terms with the fact that I will never see her again? I have no money either. What a terrible state I am in.

Later: Chris rings me and asks me to go round to finish the 'spare' beer off which is surplus from the party last Saturday._____________(censored). Marita arrived and sat with me all evening. Andy and I nearly choked over a joke which is far too obscene to record here in my diary, however I will record it leaving out some letters from the dirty word:

'Mary had a little pig,
She couldn't stop it gruntin'
So she stood it up against a wall,
and kicked it's little c_nt in.'

John and I got the 32 bus at 11.20 with Andy and arrive home exactly at 12.

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Tuesday September 11, 1973

Mother says I have looked terrible since going back to school, but I realise that school is not the reason why I look the way I do. My heart is shattered. I have never felt so sick. Never did I imagine that June would leave my life so soon after becoming a major part of it. She will have received my letter this morning.

Grandfather is to be cremated at Dewsbury on Thursday. I am going. Mother never expected me to go. John does not wish to miss work. Dad spent the day with Grandma and accompanied her to the Register Office to record the demise of that great Matriarch, who, for nearly 63 years, reigned over an Empire consisting of one third of the world's population. (Surely, you're thinking of Queen Victoria ?)

When I think about it I am glad I did not get into college. I will not apply next year. I love home far too much to go chasing round County Durham for three long, moneyless years. I have made my mind up to find a job - what sort of job I do not know. But one thing is certain, education ends for me in November.

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Monday September 10, 1973

School uneventful. Thought about June all the time. No matter how much I try to forget her I cannot. Get home by 4.30 and write her a lengthy, dramatic letter saying how much I love her, and always will do. Send it in the 7.30 post.

Later: John asks me to join him and Christine W at the Emmotts - I am reluctant at first but agree after a little persuasion. Whilst on the bus John is looking out of the window and remarks how much a passing girl looks like June. And it was June! I leapt from the bus at the next stop, John with me, and I approached her rather cautiously. We went for a walk which lasted one whole hour. Neither of us mentioned the separation. God! How I love her! Sue B stood with John until Christine arrived in the car with Marita. I told J of the letter. Afterwards, I did realise that she would not go back out with me again. But my seeing her helped to delay the coming heartbreak. I will never look at another girl without thinking of her. June will be my only love.

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Sunday September 9, 1973

I awake on a very small sofa at the residence of Mr C.H. Ratcliffe and discover that I am still intoxicated. John and MM laugh at me. Chris is preparing a chicken for lunch in the kitchen. I proceed to polish off another pint of ale along with a coffee at the same time. My head feels terrible. The day is very hot and sticky and the sun is blinding me through the windows.

Evidently, between 4-6.0am I sat near the stereo wearing Chris's headphones crying like a baby whilst listening to a Tamla Motown LP. I dislike Tamla, but it wasn't the cause of my distress - it was my devastation over the loss of June, made much worse by the exessive alcohol. I yelled for two hours solidly!

The party was really fantastic and poor Dave, who has never been in such a state before, went home on the bus with his trousers all covered in vomit. Andy left at 8.15 this morning - poor soul.

MM goes at 1pm and then John and I catch a bus. I feel really sick, still wearing my 'Teddy Killer' T-shirt I board the 1.30 33 bus - all other passengers clad in best Sunday clothes. Spend the remainder of the day relaxing quietly.

Rang Mother at 1.0pm from Chris's and she says Dad spent the night with Grandad, who is critical. They go back at 6pm. Uncle Harry rings at midnight to say he died at 11.50 pm. Although I was not even fond of him I cannot help feeling rather sad. Bed 12.15.

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Saturday September 8, 1973

John and I go to Bradford in the morning and he buys the LP 'Never a Dull Moment' by Rod Stewart. The day is very hot and Bradford is sweltering. Rush home for lunch.

At 1.15 John and I walk down to Silverdale where Geoff Saxton gives us a lift to watch Leeds United play Birmingham. A 3-0 victory for the boys! We go immediately to Chris's and let ourselves in whilst he's at work. He is home by 6.15 and we have a meal together. Andy joins us at 8 and we all have very large Bacardis. When Marita arrives at 8.30 we are well on the way to getting drunk. Chris drinks his in the bath. John, Andy and me move on to the Fleece 8.45 where the rest of the gang awaits our triumphal arrival.

Later: the party at the Ratcliffe residence begins at 10.30. Andy and I are stoned already. We make a few practical jokes and Linda throws his clothes out of the bedroom window. Dave got drunk tonight for the first time in his life! He, along with Christine and Philip, played strip pontoon in the lounge. Philip had his trousers off before even his shirt. Why? Why? Wh? I ask myself.

At 3.30 Andy, Chris and me walked to Grandways for twenty cigarettes. We finished up dancing in the large concrete flower pots outside one of the shops. At 4.0 everyone went to bed leaving me with a Tamla Motown LP -what a terrible effect it had on me.

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Wednesday September 5, 1973

A letter arrives from Middleton St George confirming just what I expected - they do not want me - this year anyway. Revise Napoleon I all day in the library. I took in a pile of records dating mainly from 1971. At leat they are more interesting than Donovan, etc.

Sit at lunchtime sharing my sandwiches with Christine. Oh, remember the days when I spent lunchtimes with June? Christine saw June in Horsforth the other day. She asked about me but is still enjoying herself deliriously. She went to the Mecca and Hoffbrau with Sue Bottomley last week. I would love things to revert to how they existed only several weeks ago. Michael Stott does not mention her name, although he must still be calling on her with Paul Tasker. I hold no grudge against the boy. Why can't she forget about the past? What can I have possibly done wrong anyway? I will write yet-again, begging her to reconsider. When I look back in the diary I realise what good times we used to share. Now it's all over. No wonder I cannot worry about my future career. What is to be enjoyed in life without June?

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