Friday April 11, 1975

Friday night again. OK, so Friday night usually does follow Friday day, but it's just that I like Friday nights particularly and you'll never fully appreciate just what pleasure I get from writing 'Friday night again' at the head of the page. After all, I ought to be able to write just what the hell I like at the top, middle or bottom of any page of my own choice in this diary. I did buy the bloody thing with my own money, just in case you've forgotten. Anyway, let's not get silly about it.

Traumatic evening. Christine is in the Hare and Hounds without Gary - they had a squabble at work and he declined to say he'd take her out. I love her you know, and the thought of her going out with that emaciated little bank clerk with nine inch hips and no hair repulses me like I've never been repulsed before. But as the ancient Chinese proverb says: "that's the way the cookie crumbles'. Move on to the Tudor Bar with David, Chris, Carol, Helen, Christine D, Christine. Leave at about 10.30 for Wikis. With Christine all night, though we do not enter into the subject of our relationship until the very end. At 1.50 we go sit outside in the cool air, near Chris's car, and we talk about us. She thinks a lot about Gary and is annoyed that I didn't make my feelings known before this point. But you know what they say about true love and the fact that it never runs smoothly? Well, mine hasn't had the opportunity to run at all yet.

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Thursday April 10, 1975

Excuse me, please, but I'm in an awkward position for writing at the moment. Yes, I'm propped up in bed and it's only 9.30pm. No, I'm not ill, or anything. I just fancied the idea of an early night. Besides, this afternoon, I laid hands on a scruffy looking copy of 'King George VI: His Life and Reign' by John Wheeler-Bennett. Yes, you're quite right, I did read it years ago, but I always think it pays off to re-read something a few years later in order to fully understand and appreciate what was actually penned.

So here I am. What else can I tell you? Oh yes, more snow today, and in the world of politics, our good friend the Prime Minister has announced that the EEC referendum will take place on June 5. NOT THAT I WILL HAVE ANYTHING TO DO WITH IT!! No, Sir, Uncle Harold and his Cabinet will have a long wait if they expect to see my little cross on the bottom of the nasty little ballot paper. A very long wait indeed.

Anyway, George VI is awaiting my attention, and so I'' say goodnight.

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Wednesday April 9, 1975

Do forgive me, but I'm not really in the mood for reeling out tons and tons of rubbish herein.

Rang David at about 7.30 and he jumped readily at the idea of going out for a quick slurp at the Hare & Hounds. John, capably at the helm, drove me down to Tennyson Street at 8 where we were kept waiting for David as usual. Gary was watching TV and attacking a large packet of peanuts, and I seemed to be stood for ages.

David and I are dumped in the Hare carpark and John disappears over the horizon in the direction of Naomi, with whom he must be horribly in love because his whole life revolves around her every gesture, movement and word. Chris chauffeurs Andy, Linda and Carol and the six of us sit near the juke box. Helen comes in straight from college - the poor girl was ill for two days following Saturday's vodka swilling contest on the coach going to Pontefract. I warned her anyway. The seven of us moved on to the Queen's on Apperley Lane, where an educational lecture is sparked off by the portrait of Queen Mary over the fireplace. Questions like: 'Was she Queen Victoria's daughter?' and 'isn't that the Queen Mother?', &c, &c were directed at me.

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Tuesday April 8, 1975

Up at 7.30. Jim gives me my usual lift and when Kathleen comes in I receive permission to toddle off for a half day. I had one owing, so it's all quite legal. Go into town with Sarah and by 'If', the record which takes the Micky out of Telly Savalas's single.

The snow belts down like hell all the way home and I fly up the lane clad only in my little green jacket. I don't see why I should revert to the wearing of winter garments just because the weather doesn't know whether it's coming or going.

Lunch with Mummy, Daddy and Susan (she's still on Easter holiday!).

Write to Christine. Don't ask me what I put. I become possessed and all thoughts are afterwards blanked from my memory. Love is a wonderful thing - especially in Spring time even if it is deep in snow.

You know when I told Christine how I felt about her she replied: 'How can you? You've never even been out with me.' But that's how I am. Worshipping from afar is what I do all the time.

See TV all evening. Part II of 'Edward VII'. Excellent, and the characters are just as I expected. Bed at about 11.30.

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Monday April 7, 1975

Back to the old routine. Up at about 7.30 and sit with Lynn over a cup of tea. Mummy didn't wish to emerge for the morning ritual of pretending to enjoy ones cornflakes and shrivelled bit of toast.

With Jim Rawnsley to Leeds. Eileen arrives at 8.30 with an engagement ring firmly secured to her finger. She gives me a cock and bull story about not really being engaged until July, but I fail to grasp the point. After all, what is the reasoning behind getting engaged to get engaged? Bloody nonsense it all is.

Go into town at lunchtime and get a card for Helen's celebratory event tomorrow. Twenty-one the poor soul is. She was so bloody pissed on Saturday I doubt very much whether she'll be recovered as yet.

Praise be to God!! Chris had official confirmation of our holiday on Saturday! It is quite sealed after all. I harboured doubts in the back of my mind that something would go wrong along the way, but feel quite satisfied now.

Haven't heard from Christine since the traumatic experience she undoubtedly went through on Saturday night. I wonder what reaction she'll give me? Her excuse the other night was that she was too drunk and too shocked to take any of it in.

Ring Marita and say I'm sending her a massive memoranda about all the references I've ever made about her in my diary since 1973. She's on the verge of hysteria at the end of the conversation. What a girl she is!

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Sunday April 6, 1975

Low Sunday. Up at 10.30 - my throat crying out for liquid refreshment. Dave B is doing the housework downstairs, and Neil is sat in the lounge with an extra large grin on his face. For ten or fifteen minutes I sit incapable clad in John's dressing gown clutching a glass of God sent orange juice. Dave took a few photos of me, and then I disappeared into the bathroom to prepare for the arrival of Mr Lawson.

Dave comes at 11.15 and we drive to Pannal near Harrogate in heavy rain. Meet Taff, a friend of Dave's from Worcester College of Education, along with his girlfriend and a snobby cousin. The snobby cousin was accompanied by his even snobbier girlfriend, Dorothy. We went to the Travellers' Rest where we had some truly obnoxious lager, and then move on to the Scott's Arms at good old Sicklinghall. Dave I kept getting lost on the country roads, and we finished up supping rum and oranges until 2pm. Driving home we pass Harewood House, and I persuaded Dave to come look round. He thought the gardens were fantastic, and I was surprised when he took an interest in the interior of the stately pile. Haven't been to Harewood for about six years, so I'd forgotten what most of it was like inside. Dave enjoyed ths story about Lord Harewood and Miss Patricia Tuckwell. Went into Harewood Church in the hope of getting a glance of the last resting place of the late Princess Royal, but don't see anything. Once again, I feel as though I'm well on the way to puncturing my bladder, and my exit from the little church can hardly be described as dignified.

Home at 5. Fish and chips with John, Lynn and Dave. See tv all night. 'Bedazzled' starring Peter Cooke and Dudley Moore was fabulous. Laughed myself into a semi-coma, or just about anyway.

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Saturday April 5, 1975

Here it is again - my birthday. Excuse me if the writing is different but I'm using a strange pen. Yes, as I was saying, here it is again. Happy Birthday, Michael, Baby! My teens are done with forever. The days of youth are through and as Dave L pointed out, I'm 'a fifth of a century old'.

Wake up at about 10 and make tea for poor, darling Christine, who is sound asleep on the lounge settee. It begins to snow, and we sit about laughing and joking for about an hour. She disappears down the lane in a blizzard and I settle down to open my cards.Dave L's is the best. A bereavement card! 'Our Sorrow is with You at This Time', and words to that effect. Play about with the typewriter and entertain Gillian, who calls round with my birthday card.

Mum and Dad are in a foul mood to start with, but pull round in the afternoon. £4 from Mama, and £3 from Sue and Peter.

The Grand National today. L'Escargot won. Mum, Dad, John and I backed eight horses each. Dad had the winner and Mum the second.

To the Hare and Hounds at 7 with Mum, Dad and John. Darling Christine joins us ten minutes later, and I tell her that I'm crazy over her. She doesn't believe me. I'll have to wait to see what reaction she profers.

Everyone gathers and the coach leaves for Kikos at 8.30. A forty five minute journey and I almost burst my bladder on the way. Fantastic evening. Rum and orange all night. Involved in a slight tussle and cut my finger, but nothing horrific. Bit of an orgy really. Had a request played and carry on very nicely. Leave at 2.15 for home and have a 'Sing along' on the way with Mr Lawson and Miss Braithwaite. Cook until 5 for Jackie and Neil and crawl into bed at about 6 o'clock.

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