Friday November 15, 1974

Quite busy at the YP. Mrs Collis rings in the morning to say Sarah is ill in bed. My delightful Sarah unwell!
Later: Have a fantastic time in the Commercial after starting off at the Hare & Hounds of course. Lynn and Dave, Carol, Phyllis Whitethighs, Keith, John and myself all stood in a bundle near the bar, laughing and joking. Phyllis kept saying it was her 19th birthday. I kissed her that number of times on the lips, and so did Keith, but he really did believe it was her birthday, so he's got some excuse at least. I drink campari and lager until we get to Wikis when I switch to bitter, which is quite putrifying. Very boring at Wikis, and I'm sick of seeing ______trying to grab all she can get in the idiotic stupor she's regularly in these days. To avoid the hideousness of drunken females I switched tables and sat until 2am with little Helen Willis, and three other unknown couples. Gillian Barker was of course near at hand. At 2 I escorted Helen to the door, but conveniently having no coat I am unable to walk her home. It's a cold night and I obtain a lift with John - Christine Dibb occupying the back seat. John and I argue about drinks on our arrival home and we wake Mama from her slumbers. She's not at all pleased by our disturbing conversation. Bed at 2.30.

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Thursday November 14, 1974

William III born 1650. The Prince of Wales born 1948. I hate British weather. Yesterday would have been a lot nicer if todays little sunny periods had given an orange glow above the sogginess of Bradford. Never again will I believe this talk about 'Queen's weather'. The sun simply ignored Her Majesty yesterday.

Busy at the YP. Anne, who departed our company in June, paid us a visit after lunch, and was her usual boisterous self. I got on perfectly well with Anne, though I did disagree with the way she wielded her authority as deputy librarian, over the library staff. After all, Sarah has worked in the department for 5 years and at 21 was quite capable of making Kathleen an admirable deputy.

Lynn goes mad after tea when she sees in the EP that Alison's Dad is now regional manager of the Southampton area. How could Al possibly have such information without conveying it to Lynn? But seriously, Lynn is rather upset at the thought of seeing Alison depart to the south of England without so much as a by your leave. Alison Dixon is a gorgeous creature and only the person of Martyn Cole Eesquire keeps me from her side. My passions are at a high level indeed when I see the diminutive, blond creature, in her black necklace, reclining on our settee.

Collapse with the hysteria put about by the 'Monty Python' crowd on the BBC. Sue and I have exactly the same sense of humour. We dissolved in the kitchen for about half an hour after the programme had finished.

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Wednesday November 13, 1974

Edward III, born 1312. Glorious day, excluding the weather. Up with the larks at 7.30 and everyone thinks I'm mad when I insist on going into Bradford to see the Queen's progress through the city. Her Majesty last came here in 1954 so it's not every day that one receives the opportunity to stand about for four and a half hours in pouring rain making a fool of oneself. The Queen arrived at 10.15 and she came into my view fifteen minutes after her arrival. Dressed in peach coloured orange with a matching hat she looked beautiful. And beautiful isn't the wrong word here. On TV or in photographs one wouldn't say this 48 year-old woman looked 'beautiful' but when ones receives the opportunity to see her in the flesh, her radiance and fantastic complexion knocks all sense of reason out of one. Got a thorough soaking, and in order to dry out I went to Denny's and the warmth of WH Smith's. We decide to go for lunch together, and at 12 we meet her friend, Lucy, who shares a flat with Judith B, my passion in June/July. We are caught up in a crowd near the Town Hall and before we know what is happening we are in the midst of one of the Queen's 'walkabouts'. A massive crowd shrouds her from our view, but by leaping about at regular intervals I get a view of the Queen and can hear her voice as she speaks to people in the crowd. You can imagine how emotional Denny was. And even Lucy, who didn't look interested at first, went away with a brand new lease of life. The girls go back to work at 1pm and I wait outside the Town Hall (flying the Royal Standard) whilst the Queen lunches. At 2 a massive crowd is gathered to see the Queen's departure for Halifax. An unforgetable, fantastic day.

Home at 3 to devour six pancakes and see 'The Forsyte Saga' on TV... followed by an hour long soak in the bath. See a film which shows a woman giving birth in the opening scenes 'Silly Cow' or something, they called it. An appropriately crude title.

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Tuesday November 12, 1974

Rhoda Wilson born 1850. Eileen and I go into town at lunchtime where I buy a film for her camera. I expect to capture several shots of Her Majesty during tomorrow's royal progress through the streets of Bradford. Can't wait.

Pleasant afternoon. Take two pictures of the girls. Sarah is a darling. She tells me her Dad is the head postmaster at York. No doubt that morsel of information was an invitation to seduce her passionately behind a filing cabinet, whilst the glories of having a head postmaster for a father-in-law was supposed to play on my sense for self-advancement & ambition.

After tea I have a driving lesson with Harry until 8. Don't do too bad, though the weather is deplorable and we see a nasty road accident down Apperley (ever after) Lane, close to the home of the late Judith Beevers - and several fire engines and the police were in attendance, no doubt pinching the sacks of sugar which had made up the load of the lorry involved in the unseemly affair.

See 'Jennie Lady Randolph Churchill' and the death of Lord Randolph on the ITV programme. The so-called young Sir Winston looked hideous.

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Monday November 11, 1974

Nice day. Eileen promises me the use of her camera for Wednesdays conquering of Bradford by the Queen of England. Talking about conquering, I wonder whether Bradford was actually ever conquered by the Normans, or indeed by anyone else? London, York, Hastings and Wessex were over-run by different tribes of foreigners throughout the Medieval and Dark Ages, but what about grimy little Bradford? I feel very strongly about this. Certainly, William the Conqueror would have cared very little about whether the dwelling of Bradford was a safe catch or not. Had he ever heard of the place? One pictures the scene:-
(enter messenger, falling on his knees)
Messenger: "Sire, I have news from the North".
Conqueror: "Speak, dog."
Messenger: "Oh Sire! Tis news, My Lord, of Bradford!"
Conqueror: "Where?"
Messenger: "Bradford, Sire!"
Conqueror: "Piss off, mate. I've got more urgent things to worry about than news from such northerly parts. Anyway, I thought you'd had the 'flu of late?"
Messenger: Oh, it was nothing, Your Grace. Just a touch of cold it was. Nice of you to mention it though, Sire. It's always such a pleasure to be able to work for such a fab regime. Did you see that in the papers about the nasty King Harold? It was so awful....."
Conqueror: "Off with his head."

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Sunday November 10, 1974

22nd after Trinity. Remembrance Sunday again. Wonder whether this is going to go on indefinately until the end of time. In seventy years time no survivors of any of the world wars will be left and I suppose it will become a little less important. Not that we can ever forget those who died in order that we can all live freely, because if we do it will be the ultimate in selfishness. Yes, Remembrance Day is a good thing.

Up at 12. Papa wallpapers the kitchen &continues after lunch. We all sit in front of the TV until about 6, when the top 20 begins.

When the Queen comes to Bradford next Wednesday I intend having the day off to lend my support to the monarchical cause. It will be my first viewing of the Sovereign on Yorkshire soil. I must persuade Sue to accomapny me. It will be an experience for her.

See TV all evening and the Gadsby clan come at about 8. Mum, Dad, Auntie Hilda and Uncle Tony go to Esholt and John goes off with Chris and Carol. I sit with Diane and Jill. Little Di is an absolute dear and completely transformed from the obnoxious horror of a couple of years ago.

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Saturday November 9, 1974

Birth of Edward VII, 1841. Lynn wakes me at the usual time. Feel dreadful as I usually do on a Saturday morning. Have my usual orange juice and ticking off from Lynn about getting drunk the night before 'all these late nights can't be doing you any good', &c. Work until 4 o'clock. Carol didn't come until nearly 12 because she overslept & she stayed with me for a couple of hours. Haven't heard anything since Thursday about her and Michael having a ridiculous divorce, though once the seeds of destruction are sown I can see nothing but trouble and chaos ahead. Home at 4.

Hear from Mum that Dad's new job with the CID is no more. The Chief Superintendent came to see him this morning and more or less told him to get lost as far as his future in the force is concerned. He's positively choked about it. Refuse categorically to go out tonight and almost succeed in my aim.

Sit by the tv with Mum until 11 o'clock watching the Festival of Remembrance from the (Royal) Albert Hall. The Queen, Duke of Edinburgh, Queen Mother, Duke of Gloucester, Princess Alice, Duchess of Gloucester, the Duke and Duchess of Kent in the royal box. The poor Duke of Edinburgh looked ill and positively ancient. At 53 he should have at least 20 years of life left in him, but by the way he was standing tonight I can't see him doing so.

At nearly 11 John, Peter and Keith call in and drag me off to the Cow & Calf where we live it up until 2. Keith drank himself idiotically under the table and he sat unconscious in the car for ten minutes before driving us home. 25MPH all the way!

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