20090604

Thursday February 14, 1974

Valentine's Day. This general election is making me sick. The tv can do nothing other than show Harold Wilson attacking Robin Day. The Prime Minister is spending his time walking round the Tory strongholds, bare-headed in the rain, making amiable noises to innocent shop assistants, and patting the heads of Tory babies. And where is it all getting us I ask? Jeremy Thorpe is the only decent politician left - it's a shame he doesn't stand a snowball in Hell's chance of forming a government.

A very exciting afternoon. At 1 o'clock I made my way into the Headrow in order to purchase my sandwiches from Malcolms Confectioners & Co. The shop was more than laden with gentlefolk, who were themselves pursuing the daily task of purchasing sustainance. This gathered multitude formed an orderly queue - out onto the sunlit Headrow like a peninsula or reproving finger. My person was near the end of this line, and in my idleness my eyes gazed in mild approval at the Victorian structure, commonly called the Town Hall, whilst at the same time my stomach insisted on reminding me that the ancient, noble Leeds buildings could not restore peace to the empty cavern in the hollow of my belly. My hunger was appeased by the touch of gentle female hands on the back of my neck turning my thoughts to other forms of sustainance. Yes, it was dear Sue Crosby. Such an eccentric she is! We fled like petrified sheep to the Central pub where we encountered Peter Lazenby, who still seems enamoured of dear Sue. Consumed 2 pints and a pleasant, much needed corned beef sandwich. Sue and I nearly crawled back up Wellington Street............to......work.....


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Wednesday February 13, 1974

Queen Catherine Howard beheaded, 1542. My great-grandfather, John Wilson, was born 121 years ago on this day. And, believe it or not, that is the only thing I know about him. It seems sad to think that a man of so much importance - for if it were not for him I would not now be writing this diary - is only remembered for the fact that he was delivered into this world on March 13, 1853. God Bless Him anyway.


(Er, yes. Er, so why I have written this today on FEBRUARY 13?)

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Tuesday February 12, 1974

Travel by bus again to Leeds - arriving at the YP at 8.45. Quite an exciting afternoon really because whilst I was sat typing I heard one of Mr Linacre's assistants approaching the library with several guests. "My Lord, here we have the Library", and "this way, Sir Kenneth". Sarah whispered in my direction that the Archbishop of York was standing behind me. The cleric was in fact Dr Treacey, Bishop of Wakefield. He commented on the speedy typing of the staff at the YP. The accompanying gent was Sir Kenneth Parkinson, the Yorkshire squire and socialite. Both seemed lively characters.

The funeral of ,Lady Cecilia Howard took place at Castle Howard today and her son, Henry, was banned from driving for 18 months following drunken driving which occurred on the day of Lady Cecilia's death. Mr Howard pleaded that he was distressed. To be honest, I don't know what is becoming of the landed gentry__.

The tv is dominated once again by the Prime Minister and Mr Wilson. I haven't the remotest idea who will win the election, but one thing is certain, and that is the lack of confidence of the people in the two political leaders - both have no good personal support in the nation. Let the best man win, that's what I say.

PS - The churchman in the office was in fact Dr Coggan, Archbishop of York.

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20090603

Monday February 11, 1974

Go by bus to the YP for a change and see Lynn Dawson, a cousin of Christine White, who I haven't seen since the summer of '71. I accompanied Miss Dawson in the drizzle to her occupational emporium, namely the Yorkshire Bank. By 8.45 I am at the YP.

Those two vile beasts of corruption John Poulson and William Pottinger were sentenced to 5 years imprisonment at Leeds today. It's a just reward for the creator of Leeds Olympic Swimming Pool I must say. Anyway, it makes a change from the usual OBEs and KCVOs. To be honest, I think the new Leeds baths is one of the most hideous monstrosities to be erected since Centre Point, and for that alone the judge should have doubled his trifling sentence. Poor Poulson wept in the dock - no doubt he'll not come out of jail alive. Poor sod.

The tv tonight was full of election news. Both major parties have now published manifestos and the usual bitter attacks upon each other have begun. Mr Heath seems very confident, but the opinion polls don't give him a massive lead. I cannot understand why Jeremy Thorpe doesn't receive the acclaim and popularity he so rightly deserves - and I seriously think that we ought to give him a chance in government. It would be nice to see Marion Harewood in No. 10. Even Mary Wilson will make a change from the boring bachelor escapades which have hung over Downing Street since 1970. A lot of popularity could easily have been created by the PM if he had married after the last election. His evident leaning towards male company cannot help raising certain doubts in my mind.

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Sunday February 10, 1974


Queen Victoria married Albert, 1840. Up with the larks at 12 noon. Poor Dad went to work at 10am where he will remain until 10pm. The current miners crisis renders it impossible for the police force to have days off or any free time at all. But still, working a 12 hour shift will bring in a bit more money.

Have bacon for breakfast, then listen to the radio as usual. Lynn and Sue are now successfully recovered from the joint attack which they both underwent earlier this week. This evening Sue is bringing her latest, Peter Nason, around for a record playing session. My sisters have had more boyfriends than even a computer could record. However, I see no reason why they shouldn't enjoy themselves in any way they see fit. Nothing eventful or anything, except for 'Monty Python' that is, which had me in stitches. Ironically, now that the tv is back to normal hours, Mum and Dad spent all evening stood before the new washing machine, watching the clothes spinning round! It's a funny world isn't it?


'Tiger Feet' by Mud.

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Saturday February 9, 1974

Mum woke me at 7am after only 4 hours sleep. Completely dead. Feel as though I've died in the night and the angels have forgotten to come and fetch me. Still, it was well worth it, and I arrived home at 2.30 this morning after a ten minute car ride over the moors with Ray.

Stagger down the lane at 8 after waking Sue. Get the train as usual. Carol, Kathleen, Sarah and me are the only bods working this morning - and strangely enough Carol is very nice with me. It appears to me that Janice and Carol must have had a conference to decide upon a policy of 'Let's be nice to Michael for a change'. It certainly does make a change anyway.

At 12.15 I walk into Leeds with Kathleen and Carol - arrive too late to catch my train, which is pulling out of the station as I arrive. My arrival home is therefore delayed until nearly 2 o'clock. Have chicken for lunch.

At about 8 John and I go to the Emmotts, but I feel too tired to drink more than a pint. Hear from Chris that Andy was awfully sick this morning. Laura, Pete, John and Chris decide to go to a better pub, and I say I'm going home. They all look shocked. At 9.30 Pete goes down for Andy, and we change places, as Andy arrives, I go. Home for 10 o'clock. Mum and Dad are out at Esholt, and Sue is babysitting. I sit with Lynn and Christine Dibb in front of the tv which was working all the way through until 1am!! See a horrific film - 'The Norliss Tapes', which even scared me! Films rarely drive me to the paroxysms of fear, but this one did. Bed at 1.

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Friday February 8, 1974

Quite a satisfactory day with very little hinderance from the girls. Frankly, Janice was being most civil with me for a change. Kathleen seemed a little bogged down with work, but I suppose the head of a department does tend to take on more responsibilities.

Have a funny afternoon. Laugh ourselves silly when we hear that the miners are still going on strike although they have no Government to argue with. The General Election isn't going to have the effect which Mr Heath thought would come about. Undoubtedly, the country falls into a worse state every day. Everyone in the Emmotts tonight agreed that the Conservatives should be re-elected, but most thought that Uncle Ted should go.

John and I get the 7.30 55 - meeting Andy on the way. Dear Christine White joins us - followed by Laura (ugh) and Paul. Chris doesn't come until after 9 o'clock. The Emmotts is packed by 9.30 and when MM and Marita come we are packed in like sardines. Helen and Keith pile in and I give her my stool, spending the remaining 45 minutes crouched on the floor near Chris and Ray. _____MM and Marita leave us and we decide where to go for the remainder of the evening. Keith mentions the 'Speak Easy' again, which was suggested last Saturday. We decide therefore to go to the 'Speak Easy' at Keighley. John and Andy go with Keith in his car. Helen and Christine go with Ray, and me and Chris go with Laura and Paul. All the way over the moors, arriving at the place at about 11. I always thought Denny was a good dancer, but Helen is also gifted here. If she wasn't going out with Keith I could quite fancy her.

The 'Speak Easy' is a brilliant spot - inexpensive and quite classy with it as well. Much better than the so-called 'Cat's Whiskers', which may as well have been named 'The Dead Bears Bum' for all I care. Dance through until 2. But John and I are mad about the drink arrangements. Everyone seemed to be buying drinks for each other and leaving dear brother and me out. Bugger them. The past months have shown that John is the only real friend I've got - the others tend to 'take the piss' out of me.

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Thursday February 7, 1974

The one day rail strike delayed my arrival at the YP until 9.35. Travelled to Leeds on a bus where I saw the second most beautiful lady in Horsforth - namely Sue Bottomley. What a darling she is! The epitome of sophistication. Such beauties were never meant for the horrid industrial 20th century. The splendours of Regency England would have been more suitable for the divine Miss Susan Bottomley.

My half-day again. Leave the YP with Sarah and get a bus outside a mill on Wellington Street. Home for 1pm after dropping off my library books at Rawdon. Have an invigorating walk up the lane in brilliant sunshine only to find myself locked out of the house. Realising that Lynn is still in bed with a chill, I shout through the letter-box, but she arrives in the kitchen laughing saying Mum has the only key. Anyway, I soon remedy the handicap by climbing into the house via the kitchen window - Lynn found the whole incident very funny. Lynn goes back upstairs and I sit with her listening to the radio until nearly 2.

The 1.30 news shook me. Mr Heath announced this morning that a general election will be held on February 28, and the Queen has dissolved Parliament by telegram from New Zealand in the early hours of this morning. It seems as though all the speculation is correct after all. My only fear is that Mr Heath will be succeeded by that two-faced little pip-squeak Wilson. I pray to God that we will be spared from the vile insinuations of the fiend, who has already proved to us that he is incapable of being a good Prime Minister. A Labour government would be the final blow to an already weak nation.

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20090602

Wednesday February 6, 1974

Queen Anne born, 1665. Death of Charles II, 1685. Death of George VI, 1952.

Although no snow fell overnight, last night's quota is still very evident. The whole lane looks like a picture from a traditional Christmas card. Leave for work at 8. Slide down the lane, up to my ankles in crisp snow.

Speculation about a possible General Election is the main topic of both YP and EP today. I don't know what to think. One thing's for sure, the so-called national strike will be halted if the marxist TUC leaders think that 'Darling Harold' (Wilson) will win the election. All my sympathy goes to Mr Heath. After all, he did his best. It would certainly be a joyous day to have the old boy once again at the helm, as it were, but the possibilities do seem remote. After all, no matter how good a government has been they are seldom returned for a second time. We'll have to wait and see what happens.

Lynn is currently shut away in her room with a chill or something. She looks terribly pale. However, in general, the health of the family is quite remarkable. I am the only one who has ever really missed a lot of time from school - but that was many years ago. John is certainly the healthy one of the clan. To be honest, I cannot remember a day when he's missed time from school, and in 2 years the boy's never missed one day of work.

Sit in bed browsing through old Agatha Christie novels which are still good the second time around.

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Tuesday February 5, 1974

Winter is here at last. Exceedingly cold day and very few dare venture out of the YP into the Leeds streets this lunchtime. From about 7 this evening it proceeded to snow until after 9. All the lane was covered in at least 3 inches.

Mum and Dad bought a new washing machine today - fully automatic. She keeps repeating that it's the first new washer she's had since married. Unbelieveable really.

After tea I write to CB using an official YP envelope - it's not really stealing - just one of the perks of the job. It's been a very quiet period for letters recently and I will have to remedy the lack of mail by creating my own stimuluses. If I write to everyone I know, someone, somewhere MUST answer.

I inform Dad the flag outside his office must be hoist for all to see tomorrow. The 6th being the 22nd anniversary of the Queen's accession to the throne - a 'Union Jack' day not widely observed. It must be a dreadful day for the poor Queen, who cannot have wanted the burden of the crown so unexpectedly, or early. The Royal Family generally do nothing on February 6, and by all accounts the Queen Mother locks herself away in a room at Royal Lodge, Windsor.

The coal miners have cut off all negotiations with Mr Heath, and the whole nation seems to be in a state of collapse. MPs are now staying that Parliament will be dissolved within a few days, and that a general election will be held on February 28 or March 7. Poor Mr Heath is hanging on by his teeth to his dwindling sanity and support.

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Monday February 4, 1974

Climb out of bed at 7.30. Hear on the news that 11 people were killed by a bomb in Leeds early this morning. The dead were travelling on a coach from Manchester to Catterick. The victims are obviously army personnel and families.

Spend the afternoon tracing the address of a Leeds woman who collects everything she can lay her hands on about the Queen - eventually make a discovery. Quite an interesting read in the meantime reading through old royal headlines. The announcement of Her Majesty's birth took approximately eight lines of an inside page of the YP when she came into the world in 1926 - they cannot have known then that the baby would one day be the mother of Princess Anne!

The Court Circular in The Times refers to to the Queen's daughter as "The Princess Anne, Mrs Mark Phillips" - a romantic, but hideous notion.

On my arrival home I see that I have had no luck with my exams again - failure. Don't particularly worry about not attaining immortal fame as a historian. If being good at history turns you into an AJP Taylor I'd rather not bother! MM rings at 6.30. Chris passed! (According to Christine B anyway). He ring me (Chris) from London and I tell him that he's passed. He is very sceptical about it all. He cannot really trust messages from MM and Christine.

See 'Colditz' in the evening. Bed at 11. Having having a shower first. PS - the miners voted 81 per cent in favour of a strike. The TUC leaders met Mr Heath and Mr Whitelaw at 10, Downing Street this evening. The Government can't make the miners change their minds, and poor little Willie Whitelaw couldn't even appease his grandmother.

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Saturday May 19, 1984

A warm, gentle day. Ally and I took off to town with Samuel at 1pm. We didn't take the pram and I carried baby for two hours, by the end...