Last after Trinity. A wet, horrible day. I walk down the lane after lunch to meet Carole off the 3 o'clock bus from Menston. She is a bit late and I walk about kicking leaves around pretending not to notice how unpunctual she is. I don't get too wet and feel refreshed by the gales and pounding rain. She does arrive in the end and we saunter up the lane like love birds.
Last night she lost her mother's priceless bracelet at the Cow & Calf and all hell was raised at 14, Oakridge Avenue, this morning.
We watched tv, and then John and Maria came over for tea. After tea, watched tv again. Nothing like a bit of variety, eh?
John obviously doesn't have my great willpower or strength of character because he and Maria made off to the Hare after part 2,000,000 of 'Upstairs, Downstarirs'. We all grit our teeth and fought our way through the news, eighteen war films and finally a Bette Davis epic.
Dave took Carole home with Peter at midnight or so, and I crawled away to bed.
Have I mentioned already that Kathleen found a 1956 Burke's Peerage in a cupboard at the office and I am now the proud owner of it?
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20100614
Saturday November 22, 1975
Went to the Cow & Calf and the mob took rellish in a brawl which took place in the ladies toilets of all places. Two young ladies saw fit to tear one another into small pieces, and one of them was in a bloody state - quite literally. She had had her pierced ear-rings torn out. Ugh. I tell Carole I'm not going up there again, but know that next week I'll be back. The Cow & Calf is horribly rough, but we do have a laugh. _____________________________________.
CB will always be at the top of my list as far as friends go, and nothing she does will stop me._______________.She is vivacious and hilariously funny.
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CB will always be at the top of my list as far as friends go, and nothing she does will stop me._______________.She is vivacious and hilariously funny.
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Friday November 21, 1975
Uneventful day and night. We stayed in the Hare and Hounds until closing time and then I got a bus home with Susan and Peter.
Carole was feeling a bit off it, and because we had no transport we could see no point in her coming back to our place. We cannot really go on using Dave like a taxi - he may well catch on.
I rang Rhodeses Coaches this lunchtime and booked a vehicle for Nov 29th. So it's Brummels here we come on Saturday night. I shall have to contact David about the trip. He only misses them when he finds it impossible to get home, and I know how much he'd love to go. My main worry is that we won't be able to raise the £25 necessary. However, Brummels should be able to entice some of the more discerning members of the happy breed.
Juan Carlos joined the ranksof European monarchs yesterday. Old General Franco decided to call it a day after what seems like months of hanging on. Spain will probably fall into a pit of chaos and anarchy now - like Portugal - and I can't see Juan Carlos reigning for very long. One thing's for certain, he doesn't have the worry and strain of planning a Silver Jubilee like our poor, over-worked Sovereign. The London Transport people are even considering letting loose a batch of silver painted buses in 1977 to celebrate Her Majesty's 25 years on the throne! The Queen herself wants none of it, if you ask me. I'll bet you a pound to a penny that devious little Uncle Harold is going to use it to some political advantage - that's if he's still in No 10, Downing Street in 2 years time.
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Carole was feeling a bit off it, and because we had no transport we could see no point in her coming back to our place. We cannot really go on using Dave like a taxi - he may well catch on.
I rang Rhodeses Coaches this lunchtime and booked a vehicle for Nov 29th. So it's Brummels here we come on Saturday night. I shall have to contact David about the trip. He only misses them when he finds it impossible to get home, and I know how much he'd love to go. My main worry is that we won't be able to raise the £25 necessary. However, Brummels should be able to entice some of the more discerning members of the happy breed.
Juan Carlos joined the ranksof European monarchs yesterday. Old General Franco decided to call it a day after what seems like months of hanging on. Spain will probably fall into a pit of chaos and anarchy now - like Portugal - and I can't see Juan Carlos reigning for very long. One thing's for certain, he doesn't have the worry and strain of planning a Silver Jubilee like our poor, over-worked Sovereign. The London Transport people are even considering letting loose a batch of silver painted buses in 1977 to celebrate Her Majesty's 25 years on the throne! The Queen herself wants none of it, if you ask me. I'll bet you a pound to a penny that devious little Uncle Harold is going to use it to some political advantage - that's if he's still in No 10, Downing Street in 2 years time.
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Thursday November 20, 1975
Carole's 18th birthday. Go to her place with Dave and Lynn at 7.30 and meet her parents for a few drinks of pernod and home-made lager. John and Maria come soon afterwards and we all have a good laugh. Paul, her 10 year-old brother drank a glass of pernod and went upstairs to be sick. Carole looked great in her new dress. She'd been drinking since 6.30 and was well on the way when we arrived, and so Lynn took over the responsibility of playing hostess, which she does well. I refused to give Carole my present in front of all the others and so I waited until she went upstairs, and then sneaked up afterwards and adorned her neck with the item of jewelry. It's probably not as good as Liz Taylor's, but it's the thought that counts after all.
At 8.30 John, Maria, Lynn, Dave, Carole and I - plus CD - made our way to the Hare for a few pre-meal slurps. Carole had her eighth pernod or something equally ludicrous, and could hardly stand by 9 o'clock. The meal is lost in something of a dream. Carole was sick twice but insisted it was nothing to do with the chicken. I devoured a T-bone steak and the best part of a bottle of wine, and helped myself to an ashtray on the way out. A thief, that's what I am.
__________________________________.We went to her place at midnight and I stayed a couple of hours. We were quite alone and it was the most romantic time of my life. Walked home at 2.30 in the frosty air.
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At 8.30 John, Maria, Lynn, Dave, Carole and I - plus CD - made our way to the Hare for a few pre-meal slurps. Carole had her eighth pernod or something equally ludicrous, and could hardly stand by 9 o'clock. The meal is lost in something of a dream. Carole was sick twice but insisted it was nothing to do with the chicken. I devoured a T-bone steak and the best part of a bottle of wine, and helped myself to an ashtray on the way out. A thief, that's what I am.
__________________________________.We went to her place at midnight and I stayed a couple of hours. We were quite alone and it was the most romantic time of my life. Walked home at 2.30 in the frosty air.
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Wednesday November 19, 1975
Wet day. Much more mild than it's been for a couple of days, and I set off down the lane at great risk of getting a thorough soaking.
Work was quite busy and I work through lunch and 'hold the fort' whilst the girls go on a spree into town. I leave at 3.30 to get Carole a birthday card. Dash across Leeds in the cold and drizzle in order to find her a decent card. Why do birthday cards always have to be slimy and pathetic? I hate sloppy verses.
I am so glad that the Prime Minister is making a firm stand on this devolution subject. It is obvious that he wants nothing to do with it, but has been forced to drop promises here and there from the Queen's Speech in order to pacify the rabid Scottish Nationalists and insane Welsh MPs. This feeble legislation is only making things worse because the devolutionists expected and wanted a good deal more. It will be a grim day indeed when we wake up to find Scotland, Wales, Rutland and Humberside all with individual administrative bodies. I don't mind the Commonwealth going, but I draw the line when matters get closer to home.
Carole rings at 5.30 and I tell her I have bought her a card. Sue, Pete and I walk to her place at 8 o'clock and we sit with her brother, Paul, whilst she tries on her new dress. A beauty it is. Suits her down to the ground, if you'll pardon the pun, and goes well with the new hairstyle.
The four of us go over to the Hare. John and Maria join us, and Sue and Pete leave at 9.30. We have a good laugh really and book a meal in the restaurant for 9 o'clock tomorrow. It will be our first meal out together - alone. We went to Maria's birthday thing in July, but that was a drunken affair when Carole meant little or nothing to me.
We walk up to Harry Ramsden's at 10pm and sit about on a wall discussing marriage, and children's names, of all things. She says that a would-be son of hers would have to be called Michael. I love her and think she is sexy beyond everyone else. Carole gets so jealous over me and CB. I wonder at times whether I am good enough for her. A pure Angel she is, and naive and vulnerable too. ________.
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Work was quite busy and I work through lunch and 'hold the fort' whilst the girls go on a spree into town. I leave at 3.30 to get Carole a birthday card. Dash across Leeds in the cold and drizzle in order to find her a decent card. Why do birthday cards always have to be slimy and pathetic? I hate sloppy verses.
I am so glad that the Prime Minister is making a firm stand on this devolution subject. It is obvious that he wants nothing to do with it, but has been forced to drop promises here and there from the Queen's Speech in order to pacify the rabid Scottish Nationalists and insane Welsh MPs. This feeble legislation is only making things worse because the devolutionists expected and wanted a good deal more. It will be a grim day indeed when we wake up to find Scotland, Wales, Rutland and Humberside all with individual administrative bodies. I don't mind the Commonwealth going, but I draw the line when matters get closer to home.
Carole rings at 5.30 and I tell her I have bought her a card. Sue, Pete and I walk to her place at 8 o'clock and we sit with her brother, Paul, whilst she tries on her new dress. A beauty it is. Suits her down to the ground, if you'll pardon the pun, and goes well with the new hairstyle.
The four of us go over to the Hare. John and Maria join us, and Sue and Pete leave at 9.30. We have a good laugh really and book a meal in the restaurant for 9 o'clock tomorrow. It will be our first meal out together - alone. We went to Maria's birthday thing in July, but that was a drunken affair when Carole meant little or nothing to me.
We walk up to Harry Ramsden's at 10pm and sit about on a wall discussing marriage, and children's names, of all things. She says that a would-be son of hers would have to be called Michael. I love her and think she is sexy beyond everyone else. Carole gets so jealous over me and CB. I wonder at times whether I am good enough for her. A pure Angel she is, and naive and vulnerable too. ________.
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Tuesday November 18, 1975
Another bright, wintry day. Almost like January or February really.
Busy day at the office. I make sure that the Duchess of Kent's cuttings and pictures are all in order for next Tuesday. She will be coming through the library and I have warned everyone that I intend bowing if the need arises. Rabid socialist Kathleen says she will never curtsey, which to me seems childish, and she amused me by saying I really ought to take down my chart showing the order of succession to the throne. 'It might dishearten her to see it', she said. I am sure that the duchess is well aware of the position held by her husband and children in relation to the Throne.
The Daily Mail makes me sick. The Daily Mail Diary especially deserves my wrath. The Prince of Wales may be a 'self-confessed Romeo' but why should that give licence to the press to open up a 'let's expose Prince Charles's sex-life campaign'. Every day without fail they tell how the prince can be found in the bar at Annabel's, the London disco, with a vodka and lime in one hand and a blond deb(utante) in the other. OK, so he does have sexual urges like the rest of us, but why plague us to death with the details? It's not even as though any of these women will get him in the end. The latest to be named is blond, nubile Claire Leveson, sister of Lady Hopetoun. I'm saying no more but I thought I'd tell you just in case he springs an engagement on us all. I wouldn't like to think the prince had popped the question without my having given you any prior warning.
Carole rings at 5.30 to say she bought the black dress we saw in Miss Selfridge a week last Saturday. It really is nice, and she intends covering her Aphrtodite-like form with it on Thursday. Sue and Pete are coming out with us tomorrow for a few celebratory drinks, and of course Lynn and Dave are joining me for a pernod party on the birthday in question.
Lynn was ________when I showed her the locket I bought Carole. She told me it looked cheap. A cruel, hard piece she can be at times. Do nothing all evening other than watch snatches of a Doris Day epic. Saw the BBC news about three times.
Yet another bomb exploded in London tonight. One can hardly go for a scampi and chips these days without returning home with shell-shock and a leg missing.
--==--
Busy day at the office. I make sure that the Duchess of Kent's cuttings and pictures are all in order for next Tuesday. She will be coming through the library and I have warned everyone that I intend bowing if the need arises. Rabid socialist Kathleen says she will never curtsey, which to me seems childish, and she amused me by saying I really ought to take down my chart showing the order of succession to the throne. 'It might dishearten her to see it', she said. I am sure that the duchess is well aware of the position held by her husband and children in relation to the Throne.
The Daily Mail makes me sick. The Daily Mail Diary especially deserves my wrath. The Prince of Wales may be a 'self-confessed Romeo' but why should that give licence to the press to open up a 'let's expose Prince Charles's sex-life campaign'. Every day without fail they tell how the prince can be found in the bar at Annabel's, the London disco, with a vodka and lime in one hand and a blond deb(utante) in the other. OK, so he does have sexual urges like the rest of us, but why plague us to death with the details? It's not even as though any of these women will get him in the end. The latest to be named is blond, nubile Claire Leveson, sister of Lady Hopetoun. I'm saying no more but I thought I'd tell you just in case he springs an engagement on us all. I wouldn't like to think the prince had popped the question without my having given you any prior warning.
Carole rings at 5.30 to say she bought the black dress we saw in Miss Selfridge a week last Saturday. It really is nice, and she intends covering her Aphrtodite-like form with it on Thursday. Sue and Pete are coming out with us tomorrow for a few celebratory drinks, and of course Lynn and Dave are joining me for a pernod party on the birthday in question.
Lynn was ________when I showed her the locket I bought Carole. She told me it looked cheap. A cruel, hard piece she can be at times. Do nothing all evening other than watch snatches of a Doris Day epic. Saw the BBC news about three times.
Yet another bomb exploded in London tonight. One can hardly go for a scampi and chips these days without returning home with shell-shock and a leg missing.
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Monday November 17, 1975
Chilly blasts and ice-cold draughts howl around my knees at 8am as I set foot out of the house for another day at the office. A hectic day too. Sarah is at her grandmother's funeral, and of course Kathleen never works Mondays. Carol is on the verge of mental collapse and Eileen reverts to her bad-mannered ways as she always seems to do at times of stress.
Someone was arguing about a quiz programme on tv yesterday. Evidently, the 50 dollar question was 'give me nine womens names beginning with the letter M'. The poor contestant could only think of six, and thus lost a chance to spend a week in St Tropez, all expenses paid. It's such an easy question too:
Mary, Marian, Mary, Mildred, Mary, Margaret, Mary, Millicent, Mary, Melissa, Mary, Maude, Mary, Mirabel, Mary, Mabel, Mary, Magdalene, Mary, Muriel, Mary, Megan, Mary, Marjorie, Mary, Michelle, Mary, Myrtle, Mary, Marianne, Mary, Marie, Mary,. Maria, Mary, Margot, Mary, Mandy. Well ok, Mandy is short for Amanda, but I bet someone somewhere is actually called Mandy.
Carole rings me and informs me that Mrs P has bought a bottle of pernod for us to get through on Thursday. Lynn and Dave and John and Maria are invited round, so we'll have a good time of it before dining out.
All I can say is I am glad we are nowhere near Londinium because you wouldn't find me in a restaurant down there. The IRA isn't going to have the pleasure of putting a stop to my happy, little existence. I intend to battle on to be over 100 whether these terrorists like it or not. Goddnight.
Someone was arguing about a quiz programme on tv yesterday. Evidently, the 50 dollar question was 'give me nine womens names beginning with the letter M'. The poor contestant could only think of six, and thus lost a chance to spend a week in St Tropez, all expenses paid. It's such an easy question too:
Mary, Marian, Mary, Mildred, Mary, Margaret, Mary, Millicent, Mary, Melissa, Mary, Maude, Mary, Mirabel, Mary, Mabel, Mary, Magdalene, Mary, Muriel, Mary, Megan, Mary, Marjorie, Mary, Michelle, Mary, Myrtle, Mary, Marianne, Mary, Marie, Mary,. Maria, Mary, Margot, Mary, Mandy. Well ok, Mandy is short for Amanda, but I bet someone somewhere is actually called Mandy.
Carole rings me and informs me that Mrs P has bought a bottle of pernod for us to get through on Thursday. Lynn and Dave and John and Maria are invited round, so we'll have a good time of it before dining out.
All I can say is I am glad we are nowhere near Londinium because you wouldn't find me in a restaurant down there. The IRA isn't going to have the pleasure of putting a stop to my happy, little existence. I intend to battle on to be over 100 whether these terrorists like it or not. Goddnight.
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