Monday May 13, 1974

Woken at 9.15 by the phone. It is Kathleen who asks if I was at the YP last night. I say of course not, then realise I should have been at work yesterday and then take a night off in the week. I feel dumbfounded. Kathleen is not at all mad, but she is expecting the complaints to roll in this morning. The fact that my working week begins on a Sunday never entered my head. Dress at 9.30 and then go for a walk into Guiseley. Buy a couple of newspapers and call in at the bank - deposit £4, and walk home feeling quite proud.

Old Mr Monkman comes round at 11 and asks if I can lend him an instrument which levers spark plugs out of sockets. I say I don't know what he's talking about and he'll have to wait and see Dad. Have a coffee and look around for something to read having finished 'Mrs Fitzherbert'. Find 'Have His Carcase' by Dorothy Sayers, which I still have not completed. At about 12 I ring the YP and speak to Kathleen and she says nobody's complained yet, but the night staff don't come into until 5 o'clock. She's taken it very well. This horrible forgetful incident has ruined my day.

Looking in the mirror, which, I hasten to add, is no regular pastime, I realise my hair is in a terrible condition and decide that Wednesday morning is to be the day of judgement. It's five months since I last had anything done with it! Hear on the 1.30 news that Princess Anne was thrown from her horse 'Doublet' at Windsor this morning and that the horse broke a leg and was later destroyed.

Go to the YP for 5. Quiet evening really.

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Sunday May 12, 1974

4th after Easter. Good lunch and feel like a lazy afternoon, which unfortunately cannot be because of driving lesson. I do quite well, but John makes terrible errors throughout the whole of his lesson. It was entertaining anyway.

Mum and Dad go to Marlene's at about 5, and Sue is at Peter's all day.______. I think the boy will shake off his shyness and insecurity within a couple of years.

See tv all evening. Read Mrs Fitzherbert by Anita Leslie. The poor soul married George IV in the 1780s but was never acknowledged in law. Socially however she was always given royal precedence. Bed at 12.


"Waterloo" by Abba.

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Saturday May 11, 1974

Up at lunchtime and do nothing all day. Andy mentioned something about a disco at Benton Park when I saw him last night and John and I decide to go along tonight to see if it's any good. Chris agrees to come, agreeing to meet in the Emmotts first. Sue, Peter, Martyn and Al all come to the Emmotts before going along to Benton themselves. Heavens! Sue isn't 15 until July! I feel guilty about entertaining a sister in a dubious public house four years under the lawful age. See Ivy, who looks ill. She says she hasn't seen June or Sue B for weeks, and last saw them in the Stone Trough, a pub which June never liked. Chris, John and I move on to the Trough, and I had a whisky, which Denny persuaded me to drink at Wikis last night. The Benton thing is a tragedy. See Keith with Helen! She is her usual self. Also see Glynis, Helen Taylor, Vilma and Judith Lea. We leave at 11 and John and I have fish and chips in Guiseley before going home.

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Friday May 10, 1974

Wake up at 10.45 with the alarm clock ringing merrily.(Excuse the handwriting but I am sitting up in bed resting the volume on my knees - not a very satisfactory method at all). Doing nothing until Mother comes home for lunch, then she surprises me by saying she is having a driving lesson at 2 - which means this is the second one this week. She gets so nervous about drivming, so much so that she makes everyone else petrified too.

Go to the YP by train at 4.20. Arrive early as all the girls are just leaving. I have a very good night and finish all my routine work by 8.20! Judith Rushworth rings at 9 and we talk for 15 minutes about nothing in particular. I ring Mum but Sue tells me they're out and I joke with her and Lynn for a further quarter of an hour or so.

Read through the Duke of Windsor's file and am especially interested in the abdication period. The poor Duke of York hated the idea of kingship and from newspaper accounts it seems as though the king and his brother finished up deadly enemies. The refusal to give the duchess the style and title of 'HRH' stems from this rivalry. Anyway, I was very glad to see that Princess Margaret and Lord Snowdon, now visiting Canada, found time to call on the old Duchess of Windsor, who is visiting New York. Margaret and Edward VIII have a lot in common.

My taxi came at 12 and I was in Wikis at a quarter past. Meet dear Denny at the top of the stairs and she is worried about John, who disappeared about ten minutes before my arrival. I go check the lavatory but he is nowhere to be seen. Have a good deal to drink and have fun with Denny. Judith, the Alfa Romeo girl, comes over and sits with me and I act with great civility considering the way I have been treated. She gives me a lift home and we cry with laughter to see John staggering up the lane at 2.30. Where had he been? I follow him in and discover he'd slept on a wall behind Wikis, after going outside to get some fresh air. A likely tale, but it must be true. Bed at 3am.

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Thursday May 9, 1974

Quite a nice day actually. Poor Judith R was rather downhearted this evening after undergoing a distressing scene at the bank. Anyway, I soon got her out of it, and we had a hysterical walk home. Tomorrow, when I am working nights, I intend compiling a list of eligible bachelors, purely for fun of course, and send it to Judith. The poor girl wants to settle down with a fat account and a peer of the realm, and knowing Judith, she'll do it. Home at 6.30. Dad tells me a good story about Prince Philip. Jim Barton, a local policeman, was on duty at Leeds City Station when the Queen and Prince Philip were in the vicinity; anyway, Barton was standing guard all alone in a siding as the Royal Train slowly pulled out, passing within yards of the PC. Feeling very much embarrassed the policeman stood to attention and saluted. To his amazement the prince, standing at a window and sporting one of his famous grins, raised his hand and thrusted two fingers into the air, leaving poor Barton stunned on the windswept siding. Of course, I don't believe it. It seems very much in character with the prince, but would he do such a thing to a policeman? Besides, one cannot believe anything a bobby says, especially in the Leeds area anyway. See tv in the evening and toy with the idea of ringing Philip Cartwright about the incident last night. Read 'Mrs Fitzherbert' by Anita Leslie. Very good. -==-

Wednesday May 8, 1974

Nothing at the YP. At 8 John and I go to the Emmotts where we sit with Laura, who is unusually cheerful and she manages to speak to both John and myself. Keith comes at 8.30, and we talk about films until Chris finally decides to walk in at about 9 o'clock.

Philip Cartwright comes up and says the bird with the Alpha Romeo, Judith or something, really fancies me and wants to see me in the Queen's tonight. John, Laura, Keith and Chris all leave at 9.30 and Philip and I go to the Queen's, where the two girls are assembled. We spend about an hour, the four of us, and at closing time they sod off with a couple of blokes leaving Philip and myself looking like a pair of silly buggers. I hate bloody stupid women, and especially women who make decent chaps look like idiots. We both shoot off and Philip drives like Hell let loose. Home at 11. Poor Philip apologises for wasting my evening. Judith, one of the tarts, rings me at about 11.15, but I act very cool. Wounded pride and all that. Must ring Philip tomorrow to see what further developments have occurred. John comes in not long after me and says he's been at the Hare and Hounds. Bed at 11.30. Interesting evening. Women make me sick.

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Tuesday May 7, 1974

Leap out of bed at 8.30 in time to hear the news. Chancellor Brandt of West Germany resigned last night after the recent incident with spies in his entourage. All day at the YP speculation grows as to whether Edward Short will resign the deputy leadership of the Labour party, and oppisition to him is growing in the Commons. President Nixon is also quaking in his boots about possible impeachment and no politician, it seems, is safe from vile insinuations ravaging the media. A purge is necessary to rid the Commons of these infernal corrupted MPs.

NB: Get lost, Michael. You are always writing bloody stupid things in your diary.

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