Friday July 4, 1975

Independence Day, USA. Don't worry. It's now a beautiful Sunday afternoon, and I'm sat on the lawn in a stone cold sober fashion. However, it does say Friday at the top of the page, so I won't mess about any longer. Here goes: I met Sarah on the bus at 7.30, and we had to meet Carol on Broadgate Lane. We decided not to bother about the Fleece, which is too far down the road, and so we started off in the Stanhope - a tatty looking place by anyone's standards. We got off on the right footing, and I had a pint of cider, Sarah had half of cider, and Carol half of lager. Sarah was the epitome of loveliness as usual, and we continued in this pattern of alcoholic consumption in the King's Arms, Black Bull, Brown Cow, Grey Horse and the Queen's Arms. Carol and I varied it a bit in the Brown Cow by having Stella Artois, and then in the Queen's I had a whisky, and Sarah a gin, because they'd run out of cider. After the Queen's I remember very little in order. Sarah and I staggered up to her place, and I definately remember falling over once. I also remember telling Sarah that I loved her, and that was why I worked 'at that bloody place'. She bundled me onto a bus, but two stops further on I climbed off and tried to find her, but arrived instead on the main road. Luckily, or so I thought, I got a lift to Guiseley, but unluckily, the driver was homosexual, and he put his hands on me. Punches were exchanged, and I climbed out of the car. Ghastly, I know. But what can you do about a thing like that? Got home at 12.30, and then walked down to Wikis. Lynn and David were in, and I fell flat on the floor in drunkenness. A fantastic evening though, and I hope Sarah won't be offended by anything I've said to her. I meant it all, anyway.

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Thursday July 3, 1975

Another gorgeous day. We haven't had a drop of rain now for about five weeks, and it's absolutely fantastic.

Sarah Elizabeth Collis and I go to Whitelocks again, where we meet David B. Those two get on with one another like a house on fire, and David amuses Sarah really phenomenally. The two of us stagger back to work in the blazing heat and we don't tell Carol or Eileen that we've been out together. They believe what we say, though we do slip up occasionally, but quite unnoticed. A real darling, Sarah is. We're doing Town Street tomorrow night, so don't blame me if the writing on Friday's page is illegible.

See TV all evening, including 'Top of the Pops' which is full of rubbish.

I'm not writing any more now, so you can just get lost, the lot of you.

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Wednesday July 2, 1975

A horribly warm day. 77f in Leeds at lunchtime, which is hot for our climate up here.

Another Sarah day today. Dave B rings me at 11.30 to see if I want to go for a drink and I say I'll bring Sarah along too. We leave the office at 1.10 and don't get back until 2.30, but S is regent in K's absence, so who is there to complain?

We have one or two ciders and then walk back to the YP complaining that we, us two, were never meant for work. We were born to lay around all day on a beach in St Tropez or Biarritz - drinking rum from long, tall glasses, full of ice cubes the size of building bricks. Unfortunately however, that life is not to be. Great wealth is not for the likes of peasants 'like wot I am'.

Meanwhile: Back at Pine Tops: Lynn and Dave in the usual Wednesday spirit go down to the off-licence for the traditional apricot wine. The final part of 'The Poisoning of Charles Bravo' was excellent, and the beautiful Mrs Bravo died at the end. However, our drinking, and the TV play was interrupted at 9.30 when MM and Marita came to see me! Haven't seen them since Easter, and considering the time lapse, they didn't really have much to say. He'd had his hair cut.

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Tuesday July 1, 1975

Dominion Day, Canada. The start of yet another month. 1975 will be gone before we really begin to appreciate it. Warm, nice day again, but a little cloudy over Leeds.

Before I say anything else I'd just like to lodge another complaint about 'The King, the Press and the People: A Study of Edward VII' by Kinley Roby. Well, it's not a complaint as such, it's just a warning to future biographers of American birth writing about English royalty. DON'T. And when I say don't, I mean please do not write about English royalty when it's painfully obvious you know nothing about the subject. It's as bad as me writing a critical study of Abraham Lincoln!

It really is remarkable how the nation is going crazy over King Edward VII and Queen Alexandra. Derek Naylor, much against his will I might add, has been forced by our beloved editor into writing a five-part feature in the EP on King Edward and the Tranby Croft 'Baccarat Scandal.'

_____It's awful working with someone when you are besotted with them (Sarah). I can understand what the situation was like with CB and Gary. It will never work out, but we can always try. Friday will be an historic night indeed, and if I don't make a move then I might never receive the opportunity again.

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Monday June 30, 1975

Pleasant day, but piles of work to do. Sarah and I go shopping at lunchtime, and I lay hands on a new T-shirt for the coming Spanish trip. It cost £2.99 which isn't bad. The last one I got was £3.50. I'm not really making excuses, but the weather was so hot we just had to have a drink. So into the Ostlers we hurried and drank three pints of cider between us ( I had two thirds of the three pints). We arrange to do Town Street again next Friday, but starting at the Fleece instead, and at 7pm too. I can hardly wait.

Home at 5 feeling starved again. After tea I chase around the back lawn with the mower and do a good job of it I think. Dad was spraying all the roses with fly killer, and Susan was watering her 'night scented stocks' - so on the whole we made an industrious little bunch.

Do sod all in the evening other than read a really revolting book about King Edward VII and the Press, by a Yank called Robey, or something, and I really think it numbers among the worst books I've ever clapped eyes on. The memoirs of Raffaelle, Duchess of Leinster were the worst, but this thing comes a close 2nd. He's convinced that Queen Victoria was perverted sexually and insists of inventing members of the House of Lords. 'Earl Russell of Clarendon' for example. There's never been such a peerage title.

Saw Mr William Hamilton, MP, on TV tonight. He was discussing his book 'My Queen and I' - a revolting pack of lies and abuse. Hermione Gingold, the actress, really pulled him, Mr H, to pieces, and he hadn't a leg to stand on. This so called 'honourable' member for Mid-Fife ought to be transported to Uganda to take the place of Denis Hills, who faces a firing squad there on Friday. I'm sure Britain wouldn't mind, and General Amin isn't bothered who dies so long as he sees blood flowing. Sad really.

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Sunday June 29, 1975

5th after Trinity. Sunny, but windy day. Get up at 10.30 and have breakfast. Mum and Dad go off to Nottingham for the day leaving us to our own devices.

Lynn goes to Dave's for the day to do the cooking whilst his Mum and Dad are away for the weekend - I'll leave the rest to your imagination (only joking), and John goes off to 'George's' for the same thing. I feel almost starved all day, and after sitting through a boring Bette Davis film I leap into a cheese sandwich and devour a nice hot bath.

An hour in the bath re-vitalises me for the evenings onslaught, and after a bit of persuading I get Sue and Peter to come to Harry Ramsden's with me for fish and chips. At 7.45 after devouring a pleasant meal, I head off towards the Hare & Hounds, where I meet Carol just getting off the bus. All the mob gathers as usual, and I find solace in Miss Rushworth, who seems adicted to the Hare these days.

Christine D and I walked home up Thorpe Lane. We laughed ourselves hoarse, and the incline of the hill didn't make things much better. Lately, I've come to appreciare the wit and humour of CD, who has everyone in stitches every time she opens her mouth. Have a coffee with her before returning home at 12. Lynn and Dave greet me on my arrival home, and I bid them goodnight.

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Saturday June 28, 1975

Last night was such a good night. It just goes to show that a change does one the world of good.

After a lazy day we all went down to the Hare & Hounds - even Sue and Peter - and I was surprised to see Helen Lockyer with the party again. She's finished with her latest boyfriend and is returned to the 'happy family' once again. We always welcome our deserters with open arms and harbour no grudges. The 'prodigal son' and all that.

I get quite merry in the Hare and at 10.30 we all, eleven of us I think, pile into Peter's van and head for the Cow & Calf. Christine tells me I'm 'off hand' but I don't think I am. Anyway, what does she expect from me? If she'd have snapped her fingers a few weeks ago I'd have been on my knees - her total slave - but now I'm hardening too. She keeps saying she'll never be hurt again, and that too applies to me.

Don't really have a good time like last Saturday. I can't stop thinking about Sarah. Why? I've known her for eighteen months, but never before have I felt so different. I've always fancied her, but never really took it seriously, or expected anything to come of it. Admittedly, November 5 was different, but I blame that on the alcohol.

Home at 2.30 in Peter's van. Ten of us coming back because Helen rang her Dad. Immediately to bed.

-=-

Friday June 27, 1975

Feel grotty and ill for the best part of the day. Like a bloody fool, I took two more tablets with my breakfast, and they didn't agree with me at all. However, having upset Mum already, I didn't want to worry her even more, so I left for work without mentioning to her just how ill I felt.

Sarah was beautiful today. She always makes a fuss of me, and was an absolute angel about me feeling bad.

Eileen was back from Spain, all white and pickled with alcohol - and so I delegated a lot of my powers to her.

Home at 6 feeling a lot better. A bath and a brush up brings me round, and I prepare to set out for Horsforth to meet Sarah and Mrs Johnson. We attempt to do the whole of Town Street, starting at the Old Ball. But we end up four pubs further on at the Brown Cow at 10.30. Still, it gives us the excuse to do it all again next weekend.

After leaving Carol at 10.30 I walk Sarah home to West End Lane. It's lovely to get my arms around her, and I'm sure she feels a little something for me too. I met 'Auntie' Delia for the first time. Not at all what I expected, but somehow Sarah is a bit like her in character. Her Dad just walked into the room and belched, but he's endearing in a funny sort of way. I kept saying I'd walk home, but 'Auntie' protested and offered me a lift in the car. Sarah and her Mum brought me home, and I hadn't so much as laid a lip on her all night. I'll have luck one day though, you mark my words.

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Thursday June 26, 1975

A rotten day. I took several of those tablets at teatime and went out to the Fox & Hounds with Christine at 8, where I had one pint of cider. The two of us then moved on to the Hare, which was open for the first time in a week, where I had another couple of drinks. Suddenly I felt all peculiar and odd. John noticed that I was 'off hand' with him for some unknown reason, and 'George' too seemed curious about the way I was 'carrying on'.

When I got home at 11 I was rude to Mum and upset her, and then I went into semi-hysterics. Upsetting everyone in the house was unforgivable of me, and I vowed to Mum that I'd never take a tablet from that bottle again. I've not felt spot on since bloody Ludlow prescribed them for me a week ago. It really was an awful experience, and I never want to have anything like that happen to me again.

To get back to better things. I met Dave and one of his mates in Whitelocks at lunchtime and bought them a few pints each because they were so short of money. His pal is obsessed with sex and it seems horribly immature to hear people like that go on and on. We all know how we feel about the opposite sex, but I don't see why it should be the sole topic of conversation every time men gather together under one roof. I'm not odd, am I?

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Wednesday June 25, 1975

Lynn and David entertained me over a bottle of apricot wine this evening. John was, quite naturally, out with 'George', and Susan was babysitting. Mum and Dad being out at the pub, we had the house free. Saw episode two of 'The Poisoning of Charles Bravo' and all I can say is it must be a good programme because I rarely remain indoors for the sake of a TV programme, but this is an exception. 'Edward VII' is another one of course, but I never go out on Tuesdays anyway.

Bed at 11pm after having fish and chips for supper. A warm night, and I lay in bed with the curtains drawn back admiring the night sky and the beautiful stars.

(Oh, by the way. I met Christine in the Ostlers at 12.30 today, and we had a few drinks. Believe it or not, I've lost my passion for her now, and feel 'head over heels' with Sarah.)

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Tuesday June 24, 1975

I know it's naughty of me, but it's now a week since I laid pen on this diary, and even me, the genius that I am, cannot possibly recall totally what actually occurred on June 24, 1975. However, you will, no doubt, be interested to know that Sarah, Mrs Johnson and I are 'doing Town Street' on Friday. When I say 'doing Town Street' I really mean to say 'doing a pub crawl down Town Street', which means exactly the same thing, but the former covers up a good deal of what actually is going on, if you follow my meaning. Oh, shut up, Michael.

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