Friday October 31, 1975

All Hallow's Eve, no less. However, I failed to see a witch, wizard, ghoul, ghost, nymph, gnome, or anything like that on my travels this night. How can we be expected to believe in things like this when they don't even bother to make an attempt to scare people to death on this truly evil night?

Quite busy at the YP today and I worked through my lunch hour and came home at 3.30. I didn't feel all that fit this afternoon. Stomach ache and all that. But it goes before I'm home.

Tonight Dave L rings. I'd quite forgotten that he'd be home and the sound of his voice made a pleasant change. He meets John and I at the Hare at 8.15, but I leave minutes later to meet Carole. Mr Phillips sits contemplating me for a few minutes and then says quite sharply: "Please tell your friends to be more quiet when bringing Carole home in the early hours of the morning." I mumble and stumble for a few minutes, and before I can answer he goes on to say: "...and I must say it isn't a pleasant sight to come downstairs at 3 o'clock in the morning to find someone using my garage as a public convenience."

I was very nearly embarrassed. But Michael Rhodes is NEVER embarrassed by any one or anything.

After half an hour in the Hare we go to the Craven Heifer. I am dying to say to someone that we, the Rhodes clan, may one day be resident at this public house. Carole, Maria and CD sit in a corner like three old witches, which is quite appropriate for All Hallow's Eve, and they leave CB, Dave L and me gassing away merrily. Dave and Lynn and all the others are with us too. At 11pm we emerge and CB pinches a sign from a house next door which reads: "BUDGIES FOR SALE". Back at our place I display the stolen sign in Monkman's garden next door. Let's hope that someone will bang on their door at 6.30 tomorrow morning and ask for a pair of blue breeders!


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Thursday October 30, 1975

Took one and a half hours for my lunch today, and went to the hairdresser in the Empire Arcade for a shearing session. I emerged 30 minutes later looking considerably cropped, but feel a good deal better. My ears will certainly feel the pinch in all this fog, buit I hope it won't be with us for much longer (the fog - not my ears). I also laid possession to a blue cardigan with a zip-up front and a pair of pale blue trousers which drained me of £17 in all! The thought is unbearable and nauseating.

Leave work at 5pm and journey home with British Rail for a change. It's a good deal faster than by bus, and what's the point in having to stand all the way as far as Horsforth in a smoke-filled contraption when it's just as easy to rocket straight home in a fast moving train of the '70s. (No, I'm not taking up a job as publicity officer for British Rail. I wouldn't mind Richard Marsh's job though).

Mum likes my hair, and I notice that Dad's is shorter round the ears. They went to view the Craven Heifer this afternoon and said it was good except that ________.All they need now is a loan from the Yorkshire Bank.

At 8.30 I met Carole off her bus at the foot of the lane, and we walked down to the Yorkshire Rose for a quick one. The night is clear and crisp and we argued like hell about nothing in particular. After having a 'noisy' drink we walk back up the lane and watch Harold Macmillan on TV. He's a brilliant old boy and should still be leading the Tory party if you ask me. Margaret Thatcher is useless.

Carole and I just haven't got on this evening. Why I do not know. She's obviously mad about something, but she never tells me anything.

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Wednesday October 29, 1975

Go down to Carole's at 8.15 and see that her Mum and Dad are still not on friendly terms with her. In fact, they didn't say much to me either.

We go across to the Hare & Hounds but I don't feel like drinking really. At 10.30 we are straight outside into the fog and I'm on a Bradford bus in next to no time. We arrange to meet tomorrow. I'm going to surprise her with a hair cut which I've kept secret. I'll be a bald, idiotic coote.

By the way, I journeyed home at 4.30 from Leeds with the Dowager Mrs Phillips, mother of Carole's dad. She is a bit of a sweet old thing, and seems to be a bit of a ditherer. I find it hard to believe that she's the ogre that Carole makes her out to be. Mind you, you can't tell me about monstrous grandparents. I had my share with Mr X, but I suppose they are never the same to outsiders. Nasty and monstrous grandparents are like sweet old things when outsiders are anywhere near. That is the frustration of them.

Home in the fog before 11pm.

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Tuesday October 28, 1975

Lynn wakes me from my slumbers at 7am. The day is a beautiful one. It is in Guiseley anyway, but things soon change when travelling to work with Jim. Passing through Horsforth we become shrouded in fog, which grows steadily more dense as we go into Leeds. The temperature falls too, and one would think Guiseley is on the French Riviera or somewhere equally tropical. (Yes, I am aware that France isn't tropical, but my description isn't meant to be taken literally).

At 4.30 I failed to get a bus home and so I walked to the West Yorkshire bus station and got the 5 o'clock 33. At Guiseley I find myself walking up home in the dark for the first time this year. I do not object to coming home in darkness, but I detest have to eat breakfast and contemplate a days work when the moon is shining and it's black as Hell at 7am.

Over tea Mum and Dad tell me about the Craven Heifer. They thought it was a bit scruffy upstairs______.They did like it though, and are optimistic about the bank financing them with the necessary cash. If they do get it we won't be moving in until February next year, so we shall have yet another Christmas at good old Pine Tops. All this waiting around and speculating about the future isn't doing me any good. I'll be a nervous wreck before I'm 21.

I rang Carole at a Menston phone box at 6.30 and we chatted for ten minutes or so. She didn't have much to say other than the fact she's bought four packs of potato crisps to eat whilst she watches a James Bond film on TV tonight.

John and Maria arrived home safely this afternoon, but as yet I haven't seen either of them. After having a coffee with Mum and Dad they went to her place where they remain unrtil this very minute. I'll report on how things went in Shrewsbury tomorrow.

Items of news: I'm saying nothing about General Franco or Juan Carlos. That matter will drag on for years yet. And the Prince of Wales's car accident in Norfolk did not injure anyone seriously, you'll be pleased to hear. HRH seems prone to road accidents.


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Monday October 27, 1975

I didn't feel like work today and was glad to get away at 4.30. The news is so monstrous lately. This Dr Herrema kidnapping has been going on for about a month; Franco doesn't know whether he's coming or going, &c.

I rang Mum this afternoon to see how they got on with the bank re the loan and she seemed optimistic. The bank manager was reported to have a wide grin on his face when Dad asked for the money and he's told them to get as much information as possible when they view the Craven Heifer tomorrow afternoon. I do so much hope that we get it this time.

Christine B rang this afternoon and asked me to go see 'The Four Musketeers' with her at Yeadon. I declined because I've already made arrangements to see Carole. She (Carole) rang twice, at 5.25 and at 7.30. She says Mr & Mrs P are still uncommunicative with her and she sounds miserable. I'll have to ring her at work tomorrow afternoon because she is always ringing me to say sweet things.

Mum and Dad go to the Craven Heifer at 8.30 and I stay at home with Sue and Peter watching the television. They come home at 11pm and agree with me that it's a great place.

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Sunday October 26, 1975

22nd after Trinity. Get up in time for lunch. Tell Mum and Dad about the Craven Heifer, wherev they have never been. They like the sound of the decorations and I tell them how impressed I was with the stone fireplaces and things.

John and Maria go to Shrewsbury this afternoon to stay with Elizabeth Macdonald, Maria's elder sister who is a lecturer. You'll laugh at what I am about to say because I always say it about John's girlfriends. I realise that I said the same thing about Christine White, Carol Smith, Naomi Downing and all the others, but this time I mean it when I say that I can hear wedding bells chiming merrily in my ears. OK, so they are always arguing, but surely that is what makes a good marriage, and besides, the time they spend together in bed must mean they like one anothers company a little bit at least. I wish them all the luck in the world anyway because Maria is my favourite of all John's mistresses. They return home on Tuesday I think.

Carole rings at 2pm to say that she and her parents have had yet another disagreement. She stormed out of the house and refused to devour her Sunday lunch. I meet her down the lane at 3 o'clock and we go for a walk over the golf course. The sun is shining brilliantly and I'm looking forward with rellish to a decent hike over Baildon Moor when suddenly her shoe capsises beneath her, and though she protests that all is well, I make her accompany me home. It's dangerous to walk on uneven ground in damaged footwear. Broken bones is not the thing I want my darling to get. (Clever grammar isn't it?) We get back home and play records and listen to the radio until 7, and then we watch TV until 10. A good film starring Warren Mitchell was on, but she had to leave before it finished to wash her lovely locks, &c. I walked her to the bus stop and managed to be home in time to see the end of the film. Romantic little devil, aren't I?

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Saturday October 25, 1975

I get up at 10.30 and after a small breakfast Mum gives me a lift into Guiseley where I meet Carole at White Cross. We go into Leeds and spend a couple of hours chasing around different shops. I buy a pair of trousers and contemplate getting a cardigan but Carole advises me otherwise.

At 1pm we go see 'Love Story' starring Ally McGraw and Ryan O'Neal. Though it's already a few years old I have never seen this so-called 'weepy' classic. Lynn and Sue saw it with Mum and Jackie M years ago, and when Denise and Marita went to see it they had to sit for an hour afterwards to cry it off. I thoroughly enjoyed it, and have to admit to feeling choked at the end. Carole wept like a three year-old. It was just too much for some people when the second feature was about a ten year-old boy dying from an incurable disease. A woman in front of me sobbed very loudly for two hours or more.

Mum had a letter this morning from Dacre Son & Hartley saying that the Craven Heifer at Addingham is on the market for £50,000. She's actually going to see the bank manager on Monday about the possibilities of getting a loan. Addingham is a fantastic place and I intend investigating the Craven Heifer as soon as possible.

To the Hare with Carole at 8.30. She has false finger nails and they look and feel fantastic. I have this erotic thing about being mauled by a lady with beautifully pointed finger-nails. Perhaps it will come one day.

At 10.30 we go to the Craven Heifer with Martyn, Alison, Peter, CB, CD, Chris, Lynn and Dave. Would you believe John and Maria are babysitting!!! The pub is immaculate and just the thing Mum & Dad will like. I can see them in it now.

On to the Cow and Calf until 2am. Christine B and Carole: one word -bitchy.I hate that.

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Friday October 24, 1975

Busy day at the office. Pictures of the one-year old Earl of Ulster, son of the Duke and Duchess of Gloucester, are in most of the papers. The likeness between the earl and his father is striking indeed, though I wouldn't say he is a particularly good looking child.

On the subject of the peerage I must say something about Chris Monckton. Chris Dawson was in the office today and he tried to get Sarah to 'take him (Monckton) out' - Chris M must really fancy Sarah because Dawson never seems to be able to let it drop. Sarah says she couldn't possibly date a future viscount whilst the Prince of Wales is still unattached! A clever girl is our Sarah, but I think she should settle for Monckton. I believe in the old saying about 'a bird in the hand', &c.

News: General Franco is getting worse, but this time I'll keep my mouth shut on the subject of Juan Carlos and whether he'll be King of Spain tomorrow. Franco could linger for years and years.

Tonight I go down to Carole's and we make our trip across to the Hare & Hounds. Stand with Sue and Pete for most of the night, and are joined by Alison and Martyn. It's a quiet night really and nothing sensational happens (other than Carole of course, who is always sensational). At 11 Carole, Sue, Pete, CD and I go up to Harry Ramsden's for supper. The other three leave for home on foot shortly afterwards while Carole and I play around in the leaves for nearly two hours. The night is warm and we have a great laugh, and more and more I am realising that Carole means a lot to me. I know I've said it all before about other girls, but I am sure that I am in love.

I walk home in the beautiful night air, and on my arrival home sit with Mum, Lynn and Dave until 3.30. We argued about official nicknames and Dave didn't believe me when I said that Harry was often used as a nickname for Henry.

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Thursday October 23, 1975

Beautiful autumn day. I wandered through town this afternoon in my shirt sleeves and didn't feel a bit uncomfortable.

Basil, our esteemed postman, is becoming ratty and upset by Christine B's references to him on the rear of the letters she writes to me. I should never have revealed the forename of Mr Postman, and I suppose CB will have to be told about his latest complaint. I don't want the Post Office taking action. On the subject of the Post Office, I should say something about them and their relationship with Yorkshire Post Newspapers Ltd. Denis Lehane was a YP leader writer until last week, when he foolishly published a piece on the PO saying they had destroyed thousands of Christmas cards and other Christmas mail two or three years ago because they couldn't cope with the amount of yuletide post. They have done nothing of the kind. Italy may well have done something similar, but what they do with glittery Santa Clauses in Rome is hardly the fault of Sir William Rylands. (Sir Gordon) Linacre sacked Lehane on the spot, and so poor Tom Greenwell is now completely alone.

A bomb exploded this morning under a car belonging to Hugh Fraser, the Tory MP. It exploded nea the Fraser home, where Caroline Kennedy, Jackie Onassis's daughter, is living temporarily. I cannot help thinking that Lady Antonia has something to do with it._________. But to be serious, the bomb killed a neighbour of Fraser's who was a leading cancer research professor. The day that capital punishment is reinstated will be a day of national benefit indeed.

I've just heard on the late news that Prince Juan Carlos is ready to take over from Franco, who is on his death bed. We may have a king of Spain tomorrow.

Carole rang at 5.30 and then at 8.30. She is worried about me not liking her latest letter. Fooilsh maiden. __________.


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Wednesday October 22, 1975

Up at 7.30 and dash around like something not right for half an hour. As usual it is to Leeds with Jim. Nothing scandalous or anything in the office at the moment so I'll narate something else instead.

I will have to start sorting out my vast collection of letters and other items of nostalgia. Drawers and cupboards in my room are packed with them. Letters from June Bottomley, Christine, Judith, Carole and Dave Lawson are just about taking over the upper part of 58, Hawksworth Lane, and certain indelicate subjects raised in Carole's latest despatch make me somewhat edgy.____________.

After tea we sit in front of the television. 'Carry On Doctor' gives everyone a laugh. I always watch these films with the intention of passing sentence of death upon them, but end up bent double with galloping hysterics.

At 8.10 John and I get in the car but it won't start. In a torrent of abuse I hurry down the lane only to miss the bus and find myself walking all the way to Carole's. I meet her with Mrs P coming out of Oakridge Avenue and I get the impression they had given me up for dead. Mrs P winds her way to Highroyds and Miss Phillips and I nip into the Hare. It is boring in the Hare tonight. After a rum with a few Coca Colas we go back to Carole's for yet another drink. At 11.15 I miss yet another bus and walk home yet again.

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Tuesday October 21, 1975

To the office with Jim Rawnsley at 8.30. Items of interest in the news: Crown Prince Fahd of Saudi Arabia arrived at Heathrow yesterday and I was amused to see our beloved Prime Minister grovelling on his hands and knees on the tarmac, in homage to the fat, arabic potentate. The Duke of Gloucester too was in the official welcoming party and I noticed him running after the crown prince in a feeble attempt to make polite chit chat. Little Richard was no match in the race to the VIP lounge and whilst Fahd and the Prime Minister were busily knocking back the duty free vodkas, HRH was fighting his way through the body guards yelling: "I'm Richard of Gloucester. I'm supposed to do the talking!" (No he didn't, I'm just getting carried away).

Nothing much else in the news other than Ireland and I'm not going to dwell on that.

Carole rang me at work and so too did CB, who was going out with Michael Ives until Saturday when she became intoxicated at Mark Naylor's 21st birthday party and left him to his own devices. A little raver she is!

Carole rang again at 8pm and we chatted for ten minutes or so. We are going out tomorrow night and I'm meeting her at 8 o'clock. I always clam up on the phone and can only really talk to Carole when we meet in the flesh.

Heard on the news tonight that General Franco had a heart attack today and is probably on his last legs. He's 82 so I'm not surprised. If I last as long I'll go quite happily.

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