Thursday November 22, 1973

A very enjoyable day at the YP. In the afternoon I sort through some picture boxes.

At 5.0 I go into Leeds. Look in Smiths and then at 6 I go to the Odeon, quite alone, where I see 'The Adventures of Barry Mackenzie' - tremendous brawl. All Australian cast. Catch the 55 at 10.30. Home 11.30. Hear that poor Mr Smith had a stroke this morning - after being in Devon for 5 days. Poor sod. The family are grief stricken.

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Wednesday November 21, 1973

Before leaving for the YP Mum, reading the Daily Mail, mentions that the Prince of Wales is languishing on the Spanish coast with a 22-year-old daughter of the Duke and Duchess of Wellington. Of course, Buckingham Palace denied all reports of a possible engagement, but who can believe them? Nationwide, the lousy tv news programme, has suggested this list of possible brides:-

1. Her Imperial Highness Grand Duchess Marie of Russia, only child of the pretender to the Russian throne.

2. The Lady Victoria Percy, daughter of the Duke of Northumberland (don't know where he picked her up).

3. Miss Angela Nevill, daughter of Lord Rupert Nevill.

4. Lady Jane Wellesley, daughter of the Duke of Wellington.

5. Miss Rosie Clifton, daughter of a civil servant.

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Tuesday November 20, 1973

The coldest morning of the year. I meet Judith, who has been off work since last Monday with a cold. We walked to the train in the icy blasts. After parting from Judith I met Anne on Wellington Street and accompanied her to the office. I also have lunch with her - off pork - and later show her how to file obits and personalities. Carol laughs because I have been lumbered with the new girl, but I don't care. Anyone is better than Janice, who treats me like dirt. See in the EP that 'Barry Mackenzie' is coming to the Leeds Odeon today until Sunday. I must persuade Chris, or anyone, to see it with me - such an hilarious film.Arrive home to find a letter from Dave. I reply immediately. Dad and John are tiling the bathroom, a slow but worthwhile job. Boring evening really. My cols is only worsening. Bed 11.0pm. --==--

Monday November 19, 1973

I reluctanlty march into the office thinking that the death of Sir Gerald Nabarro would be dominating the YP. Strangely enough, the power crisis is the main news of the day. What a relief. I can stand many sights the first thing on a morning but the pompous face of NAB isn't one of them.

I answer the phone and speakl to the editor of Tatler, Peter Townsend, who is looking for a photograph. I am unable to help him. Also, after lunch, the new girl, Anne, arrives. Very ugly but sweet. The Lord Mayor of Leeds calls in to see us whilst Miss Went is at lunch - his worship leaves by the back as she enters from the front. She was livid as missing such a distinguished character. He seemed a very likeable chap.

I think I can feel a cold coming on. My nose is running continuously. Exhausting Mum's handkerchief supply.

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Letter from Christine Braithwaite

Benton Park Grammar School,
Harrogate Road,
Rawdon

19th November, 1973

Rawdon 2330

Dear Michael

We are writing to invite you to the Christmas Party, which will be held in the Sixth Form Block on Wednesday, 19th December, 1973, beginning at 8:00pm. Price of admission will be 20p, payable at the door.

If you wish to bring a friend, please could you send us their name and address, and when you arrive at the party, we would be grateful if you would introduce them to Mr Grove.

If you would like to come could you write back as soon as possible, so that we can anticipate numbers.

As last year, drinking will not be allowed before or during the party.

Hoping you will accept this invitation,

Yours sincerely,

Christine Braithwaite

Chairman, Sixth Form Committee

-=-

Sunday November 18, 1973

Sir Gerald Nabarro-Oh-No-What-Ho has died in his Worcestershire constituency (very painfully) at the grand old age of 60. From all accounts it seems he fell into a coma whilst looking in at the Royal Wedding on his 23 inch colour tv set. He never regained consciousness. Anyway, that's one potential pedestrian killer out of the way. Yes, the death of this great public figure gives me a better chance of crossing the high street without being flattened beneath the wheels of one of his 27 Rolls-Royces. Indeed, this is a great day for living pedestrians throughout the civilised, and indeed uncivilised world.

At 3.45 John and I were accosted by Andy in his Dad's car. He escorted us, and Chris, to Guiseley Swimming Baths. After thirty minutes in the water we drank some revolting coffee in a cafeteria and went home. The chlorine lingers for hours, but I must admit, it does my sinuses a world of good.

Marlene, Frank, Mark and Debbie come for tea. We spend an enjoyable evening. The kids are tremendous fun - so typically Wilson. See the second repeat of the first repeat of 'Shadow of the Tower' a drama based on Henry VII. It remains entertaining. Strangely enough, when the series was first screened (late 71) I began shaving. You may think I'm mad, but I remember silly things like that.

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Saturday November 17, 1973

Got up at 10.30 and made everyone a cup of tea. Mum says she had the shock of her life last night when she found me face down, flat out on my bedroom carpet. I awoke, strangely enough, still clad in my dickie bow, much to Dad's amusement. (Cartoon of myself dressed for the fancy dress party at Baildon) 

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Friday November 16, 1973

Tonight I dressed up in a tramps garb and went to a party in Baildon. So did Chris, Andy and Laura. She wore a white evening dress with a strategically placed red rose peeping from the bossom....

Goodbye.

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Thursday November 15, 1973

With the wedding of the year over, what do we have left to live for? No coal. No electricity. No gas. No heating. No June. No fuel. No cars. No turkeys. No meat. No bread. No unmarried princesses, and sexy with it. No oil. No lights. No fairies. No 18th century mahogany chamber pot covers (£75 from any mahogany chamber pot stockist). No bacon, sausages, or canned tomatoes. No electric tooth brushes, etc. Britain will come to a grinding halt by next week. And what's more, statistics just out show that by 1984 Britain will be polluted beneath a blanket of 800m back dated copies of 'The Guardian'. The roads, fields, sewers, and woodland areas of rural Britain will be buried beneath an 18ft rotting heap of Guardians - not including the colour supplements. The thought is quite nauseating really. But Anne and Mark won't be bothered. Nobody reads the Guardian in the Caribbean...

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Wednesday November 14, 1973

Let the bells ring out the joyous news! Princess Anne and the captain are wed. And what a day it has been. Awoke at 7. It was a brilliantly sunny but icy cold day. Hear on the 7.30 news that thousands of people have spent the whole night on the wedding route, and even the rain of last night could not deter them all. I dash into Guiseley feeling very happy. The union flag was flying (in honour of the Prince of Wales's 25th birthday and not the royal wedding).

The journalists are still on strike, and a total of seven pictures were waiting for me at the YP. The lights in the office are all off to comply with the rules of the State of Emergency declared by the government yesterday. However, who#s bothered about the miners when a royal wedding is in full swing?

By 11 o'clock nobody can concentrate and Kathy leads the charge across the office to the small black and white tv. We see the blurred silhouettes of Princess Anne and Mark Phillips exchanging marriage vows. A subs girl wept tears of emotion. It really was beautiful. The princess has never looked more radiant and beautiful. Spend a quiet afternoon with Kathy and Sarah.

Home at 6. The wedding is condensed and shown again at 7. The crowds outside the palace were fantastic. Anne obviously loved every moment of it and seemed thrilled by the exuberance of the singing and chanting crowds. The poor Queen Mother quite broke down in the abbey. Prince Philip was unusually pale. The Queen was very collected and looked radiant when leaving the abbey. The Prince of Wales looked embarrassed and Prince Andrew bored. Edward, with his cherubic face, enjoyed himself immensely. At 4 the couple left by open landau for Thatched House Lodge, the home of Princess Alexandra and old Ogilvy. They leave for the Caribbean tomorrow. Even Auntie Hilda had enjoyed it. She rang at 9.30.

Princess Anne succeeded in getting through the day without becoming Princess Royal - and I am relieved.

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Tuesday November 13, 1973

Monday November 12, 1973