Saturday December 13, 1975

Carole gives up smoking?

Carole's Auntie Anne had a stroke last night and at 2 o'clock the two of us go to Otley Hospital to see her. The coldest day of the year. We walked through Otley with ice hanging from all our prominent extremities.

Auntie isn't as bad as we thought and she'll probably be out of hospital by Christmas. She is in a private room, and we, the relations and friends, made a terrible racket. Her son, Geoffrey, sat flicking live matches at Carole, and she retaliated by giving a high pitched scream every time a missile struck. Little Paul drank all the patient's Lucozade, and Mrs Phillips sat hurling nothing but abuse at her only daughter. I'm quite positive that we can't have done Auntie Anne much good. The three of us, Geoffrey, Carole and me, left auntie in her smouldering bed at 4pm, and walked into town.

Carole demolished a display in one of the supermarkets and we were forced to make a hasty exit. Back to her place where we collected a few presents to go under our Christmas tree (see below) and then go on to Pine Tops. Lynn and David are erecting the tree in the lounge whilst everyone looks on.

I ate a couple of kippers and Lynn and Dave had scrambled eggs on toast.

Back to Carole's at 7.30 and she gets herself ready to go out. We go across to the Hare where Dave L is in residence. We stand about for an hour or so then we go up to the Craven Heifer where Carole renounces tobacco smoking for ALL TIME!!!???!!!...or so she says anyway. Then up to the Cow and Calf with Peter M. Hear from Carol Smith that ________. I had no idea at all. No wonder ______ has been a bit weird of late.

Arrange with Carole to go on a long walk tomorrow morning. I intend getting up at 7.30am. Will he do it? This is the question on the tip of all your tongues.


-==-

Friday December 12, 1975

It's been a long week and you have no idea just what it feels like to be sat at home on a Friday evening with the prospect of a good weekend before you.

I was never designed for work one bit. I should be in St Tropez with three debutantes around each arm and a crate of good champagne on the table before me. Alas, we members of the Landless Peasantry don't stand much chance.

Home on the train and feel more than half-knackered. However, after tea, and a session with the stereo I'm quite rejuvenated.

CB rings to say she's going out with Philip again tonight. Do I envisage a reconciliation? It is Christmas coming and you know what they say about good will? It would ease my conscience slightly if they breach was healed because sometimes I cannot look Philip in the face without thinking 'Oh you swine, Michael'. Nevertheless, CB was the one who severed the connection and all I can be labelled really is an accessory to the crime.

'Prisoner at the Bar, how do you plead?'

'Guilty, M'Lud.'

Carole and I go to the Hare & Hounds at 8.30 and see Andy and Linda who say that they are going to the airport for a meal on Dec 20th to celebrate their engagement. Carole is unenthusiastic about going, but I can't refuse really. People don't get engaged every day do they? (Well, other than Rex Harrison that is).

I came home on the bus with CD. It is an incredibly cold night and both of us dreaded having to get off into the foul, freezing night air.

Watch tv until close-down with Lynn, Dave, Sue, Peter, Mum & Dad.

-==-

Thursday December 11, 1975

Uneventful day. Do not see Carole and stay at home in front of the tv all night. Laugh with Dad at this London hostage business. If they are still being held at Christmas I can see Sir Robert Mark, the Metropoltian Police Commissioner, dressed as Santa Claus, lowering a sack full of presents down the chimney of the Balcombe Street flat!

See 'Top of the Pops' and a programme about Prince Charles being invested as a companion Water Rat. Mike Yarwood, Ronnie Corbett and all the usual bunch were taking the mickey, but HRH came over marvellously as usual. The whole nation now regards as some sort of 'Boy Wonder' and the papers are full of 'when he is King he will do this' and 'when he is King he will do that...' &c. The Sunday Trash said last week that the dear Queen will abdicate in ten years time. I cannot believe that she'd do such a thing. She is strong enough to go on for 25 years yet and I'm certain that she'll be Queen until the day she dies - communist revolutions and uprisings set aside. It is an ancient tradition, I fear, for the media to idolise the heir and cast the dear old monarch into the shadows.

See Spike Milligan at 9 o'clock on BBC2. He is a genius beyond his years. No one seems to appreciate his talents and I fear his genius won't be fully recognised until after he's gone.

Climb into the bath at 9.30 and go to bed shortly afterwards.

-==-

Wednesday December 10, 1975

The old Duchess of Windsor will regard this day as a special day I think. 39 years ago, the King of England packed his bags and left his country in order to win her heart. He could have reigned long and happily with her as his mistress but he would stop at nothing short of the altar. A proud old thing she really should be.

Don't hear from Carole during the day and at 7.30 John drives me up to Sarah's where we buy some of her fantastic pieces of pottery. I never imagined she was such a good, creative little thing. Spend £4 on her wares and come away entirely satisfied. Saw the new little dog, Lucy. So incredibly small. It will go through life pampered, spoiled and its every whim attended to. ___________________.

We call in at the Emmotts where Eric goes wild with excitement. Always make us welcome, they do. Even old Ivy remembered us.

Straight down to Carole's where she's quiet and surly. We go over to the Hare for an hour and then back to her place. I got the last bus, and she cheered up before I left. Sometimes she is so uncontrollable and bad tempered.

--==--

Tuesday December 9, 1975

Another boring day. It must be something to do with the time of year. Christmas cannot come too soon for my liking.

Spend most of the day with Sydney Burton who is trying to find the YP file for September 1965. We aren't successful at all.

The only good parts about the day was when Carole rang at lunchtime and when I met Judith R on Bradford Road at 5.30. Carole didn't have any news and we only discussed our next meeting which looks like tomorrow night. We laughed about the incident in the bus stop last night. Poor Carole is getting a complex about raising her voice. My meeting with Judith had a few surprises. a) She's semi-engaged at the moment to Terry, a 35 year-old male nurse, and expects to be married in about two years after his DIVORCE, and b) she's managed to get a job as a typist in Bradford. We have a laugh and she says I will have to go for weekends to her house when she is married. Would Terry be happy with such an arrangement? I think not. A Crazy bird she is indeed.

Home for tea and hear Dad on the phone to Robinson at the Craven Heifer. He is definately sending the accounts to us tomorrow, so we'll have some information at last. By February we may be resident in Addingham.

Carole rings from Maria's place again. I walk round at 8.30 and find Maria in a terrible state. After arguing with John on the phone she proceeded to drop down on the floor and wail. Mr & Mrs Mac came back from hospital and were unable to console her. Only Lynn and David (who made a surprise visit) made any impression and she cheered up quite reasonably. After several cups of coffee and a pile of cakes we walk home. Dave takes Carole home.

FIN

Monday December 8, 1975

Boring day at the office. Yet another IRA siege is going on in London, and it is dominating the newspapers. OK, it's not very nice for the hostages, but I'm damned sure the public don't want to sit around watching Frank Bough on 'Nationwide' with a plastic scale model of the house! Blimey, what's the world coming to? I'll just comment on the advice a leading psychologist has offered to the hostages on tv. He has advised them to act and behave quite normally, as though nothing is wrong. 'Do the cooking. Watch Crossroads. Take a bath. Feed the parrot, and telephone Mum in Wiltshire for a nice chat.' How the Hell can anyone act normally when sharing a tiny drawing room with four Irish murderers? They have no bog, no food and bloody Frank Bough to contend with on the telly telling everyone and everybody how dangerous the murderers are!

At 7.30 or so Carole rings from Maria's and I immediately go round. Little did I know that Carole was following me round Tranmere and before reaching Maria's she tripped on the causeway and injured her leg. When leaving Maria's about an hour later she walked smack-bang into a telegraph pole rendering herself insensible. What a girl she is!

However, on arriving at Maria's we sat in the lounge playing two new records she's bought me. She was still wearing her gloves, scarfe and coat half an hour later! To avoid any contamination from Prinny we came back to Pine Tops to watch tv. Saw Mick Jagger in 'Ned Kelly'. It isn't all that bad really but Jagger's Irish accent is hopeless.

At the bus stop at 11 we made so much noise, or perhaps I should say Carole made so much noise, that it prompted a woman to yell at us from a bedroom window: "You bigger ones really should know better." The silly cow wants her head seeing to. We were not making a massive racket, and her shouting down at us from a window made far more noise.

--==--

Sunday December 7, 1975

2nd in Advent. A bloody day. Don't want to write anything.

I went to Carole's for tea and afterwards watched 'Virgin Soldiers' on tv. A good film.

Mrs Phillips (bless her) gave me an old print entitled 'Over the sea, and far away'. I carry it home under my arm at midnight and run the risk of being taken in by Her Majesty's Police Force.

-==-