Friday February 22, 1974

Our usual Friday excursion to the Emmotts. Accompanied by Denny, who looks a little thinner since we last met. Her recent holiday to Spain leaves her looking fit and well. Andy, Christine W, Keith and Laura all join us - very late as usual, and at 9.30 they get the idea of going on to a different pub. Even Chris says he wants to move to to a nicer place. John, Denny and me refuse to go with them, and Chris departs leaving me with the news that Linda S is having a social gathering at Ilkley tomorrow - stating quite clearly that it is not a 'party'. However, we see Andy and Christine later, and they say no such event is taking place! They are the ones upon which I rely on for news about Linda. Anyway, John, Denny and I sit in the company of Martin V-B until 10.45 - consuming a concoction of vodka and dry Martini - at a tremendous risk to the stability of my financial holdings. Denny and I who had previously decided to meet in Leeds tomorrow bid our sweet farewells, then proceed to consume a quantity of fish and chips before leaving on the 11.10 55 bus. (Sorry about the poor sentence construction.)

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Thursday February 21, 1974

A very enjoyable afternoon. At 12 o'clock get the 32 bus to Guiseley, arriving home for lunch at about 1. Please that the weather is mild because Mum, Dad and I intend spending the afternoon ay Yeadon Airport. Leeds receives a double Royal Visit today, Princess Margaret and Princess Richard of Gloucester are carrying out colonial activities at hospitals and theatres throughout the northern capitol. Mum says she's never seen Princess Margaret, and I say that today is a good a chance as any. We go to Otley, the three of us, and then to Yeadon. My heart fell in love with the beautiful, young Danish princess. Young Richard of Gloucester may not look much, but he certainly knew what he was doing when he married that little angel. I was surprised to see her looking so trendy - pleated skirts and large, clompy shoes etc. The driving winds at Yeadon swept across the tarmac, and Princess Richard lost her hat - sweeping it into the arms of a detective. Princess Margaret, being gthe most experienced of the two, held onto her hat while bidding farewell to the assembled dignitaries. Mum was thrilled by the whole thing. Quite a large crowd gathered to see the departure, which ended at approximately 4.35.

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Wednesday February 20, 1974

The General Election..........Harold Wilson..........Edward Heath..........Jeremy Thorpe..........General Election..........Roy Jenkins..........Rising Prices..........Nationalisation..........Wilson..........Inflation..........Anthony Wedgwood Poulson..........WG Pottinger..........Edward Heath..........Rising Prices..........Cyril Smith..........Liberals..........Opinion Polls..........Even More Liberals..........the Miners..........Fuel Crisis..........Watergate..........Henry Kissinger..........John Poulson..........Edward Heath..........Ludovic Kennedy.................................................................Marilym Monro........................................................................................................................................Maudling..................................................................

Tuesday February 19, 1974

Kathleen is worrying about the holidays this year. Everyone appears to be arranging weeks off except me. When I arrive home I discuss the details with John. We decide it would be nice to go to Windsor in June, when the Trooping of the Colour takes place of course. However, I am ignorant of the actual date upon which the Queen celebrates her official birthday this year. Anyway, I soon remedy the fact by ringing the YP library where Ray tells me that the event occurs on Saturday June 15. We make up our minds to stay with Uncle John and Auntie Sheila - all being well anyway - from June 8 to June 16. I could not miss my annual London excursion for anything in the world.

At 6.30 I had my third driving lesson.Feel much more confident than I did on last Tuesday's race around Horsforth. The bloke is a great guy. I am booked through until the end of March on the same day at the same time. If I don't pass first time round I will be resigned to the fact that I am an absolute failure.

A pleasant unusually mild day. Prince Andrew is 14 today, and I am disgusted with Yorkshire Post Newspapers for not flying the Union Jack above the building, which was so at 8.45 this morning, but at 1 o'clock when I went out for lunch, I was pleased to see the flag hoist above the bright, carefree skies of Leeds. It all goes to show that nationalism and patriotism is not yet dead in this decaying country of ours. Even the girls knew what flag flying day it was without being informed - the YP girls I mean - not my own dearest sisters.

See tv in the evening, and have a bath. The General Election is still the main topic. I am sick of hearing Harold Wilson insulting Lord Hailsham, and vice versa. Utterly sick of politics.

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Monday February 18, 1974

This is going to be a blank page, so I see not much point in you hanging on at your end any longer. However, I realise that many of you depend on my daily entries, so I won't let you down entirely, being a soft hearted old thing that I am. Anyway, you've had your fun for one day and I'll try to be more productive tomorrow but until then, it's goodbye from me...

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Sunday February 17, 1974

Sexagesima. Wake up at 11.30. See a good play -"The Importance of Being Earnest" on the BBC which was, strangely enough, just as good as the 1940s film version. Never did I imagine that Lady Bracknell could be portrayed by anyone other than Edith Evans - but she was.

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Saturday February 16, 1974

Climb out of bed just before noon. No work for me today and Kathleen said yesterday that she's spoiling me with all these weekends off.

Do nothing all day except go driving with Dad. At about 2 Sue rang from her place of work, and Dad let me drive down Park Road to pick her up. She didn't like the idea of me being at the wheel and she gave a sigh of relief when we dropped her off at Pine Tops. Dad and I coninued up Hawksworth Lane past Dick Hudson's pub and over Baildon Moor. He is a nervous wreck - not at all confident like my driving instructor.

Denise rang whilst I was in the bath. John arranged to meet her in the Queen's. Chris says he'll be there for 8 - a likely story. John and me get the 7.30 55. The Queen's is packed with acquaintances. Christine and Philip, Mick Knowles and Lynn, MM and Marita, David etc. Linda and Christine arrive on the same bus with John, Denny and me. Even Helen and Keith find time to leave the party and join us. Chris comes at 8.45 and Andy and Peter seem to be very quiet and miserable. Chris and Pete go home at 10.15. Linda, Andy and Christine White go with Keith and Helen, and John, Denny and me go with David, MM and Marita. The reconciliation has taken place at last! We go to the Elma at Shipley - which must be the worst discotheque I have ever experienced. Like a rabbit hutch, with horrible people, and flat beer. Never again. Home by 2.15am. I must say it makes a change being with David and the 'Jet-Set'. Chris and Co do get slightly monotonous at times.


Suzi Quatro.

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Friday February 15, 1974

We went to the Emmotts as usual. Andy seems strangely subdued these past few days - cannot be financial worries because only Chris finds money a permanent terror and pain. MM and Marita call in. I am the only one out of the gang to go over and speak to them. _____.See Kevin Taylor who comes in at 9.30 but doesn't speak.

I am becoming worried for poor Ivy who I have neither seen or heard from since mid-January. What can have possibly come of the poor old soul? She can't have died can she?

John and I get the 11.15 55 from the Emmotts and are home 30 minutes later. Not a very enjoyable evening and the only entertainment I had was seeing Helen. That girl is the most loveable thing I have ever seen (well, almost anyway) and Keith Brown does not seem to realise that unless he treats her with more respect he may not have her much longer. Helen and I share a common bond in our hatred of ________, who is fortunately detained in Nottingham this week. Chris needs his head examining for allowing himself to 'fall for' that horrid little Scots bitch.

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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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