Sunday September 26, 1976

15th after Trinity. Don't see the light of day until 12 o'clock. Have only a slight headache from Eileen's gin, but otherwise all is well.

Dad decorates his bedroom and I do absolutely nothing amidst the busy scurrying of Mum, Lynn and Susan, who are like ants. Lynne sits crocheting a pram cover or something for a couple of hours, until I persuade her to walk up to the village [Hawksworth] with me. Warm, brilliant sun. Energetic stroll and then home for orange juice and a session with the photo albums.

Lynne goes off at 6.30 - 7 o'clock. Will go to Yeadon Airport on Wednesday to see her off to Espana for a couple of weeks or so. A great and perfect woman she is.

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Saturday September 25, 1976

John's 20th birthday. The first time that one of 'us four' have been away from home for a birthday. A wet, disgusting day. To make matter's worse Lynne's car on Edith's drive, doesn't start and it takes Dad and David 30 minutes, in pouring rain, to get the bloody thing going again. Lynn comes with Lynne and I to Leeds. The less said about shopping in monsoon-hit Leeds the better. Get John a bottle of 'Aramis' for his birthday and buy 'Givenchy Gentleman' after-shave for my own personal use. Lynne buys a white polo-necked sweater and Lynn got David a couple of presents because they've been going out for exactly 2 years next Tuesday.

Mention the drought to me mate and I'll crush your balls in a metal vice. Harsh I know but you can't expect to antagonise me and get away with it Scot free. [Or is it Scott free? And from where does this saying originate?]

[Large gap at foot of page where I was supposed to record my visit to Eileen Byram's party in Dewsbury. It is sadly lost to history.]


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Friday September 24, 1976

Lynne comes over straight from Burley [in Wharfedale] to stay for the weekend. Not a drop of alcohol passes my lips all night -except for one glass of 'Clan Dew' supped at home on our return from the cinema. Yes, we actually went to the pictures for a change. Lynne, Peter, Susan and self, that is. 'Squirm' was the film. A so-called horror movie, but only Lynne found it so. The film on the TV on our return to Pine Tops was far worse. Bed at 1.30 - 2oclock.

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Thursday September 23, 1976

A great drunken piss-up with Tony, Stuart and Andrew [Stuart's brother]. Neville's in Ilkley is a revolting, obnoxious hole. Snobbish is too mild a word to use in labelling it. Enjoy ourselves all the same. Up to Oakwood Hall where I consume vast quantities of alcoholic refreshment and become enamoured by a Bingley College of Education tart by the name of 'Skittles' or 'Peggy'. I'm getting just like King Edward VII. Lynne is my beautiful Alexandra though.

Back to Stuart and Andrew's at 2am where we discuss plans for the Queen's Silver Jubilee party. Andrew goes on and on about masturbation. "Am I back at school?" I ask myself. Oh dear. Tony & Stuart are having a party on October 16 to commemorate Tony's defection to W.H.Smith's retail section. Eat cornflakes and Rice Krispies before leaving for home - singing hymns all the way like religious fanatics. It's better than church anyway. What's the name of the Archbishop of Canterbury these days? The current one has a nice wife called Jean.

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Wednesday September 22, 1976

News: Unfortunate naval fellows drowned in HMS Littleton yesterday. Rabbit for tea. Superb too. John rings at 6.30 and we all panic, saying unto one another: "Is this it?". But he just says the car has broken down near the Co-op. Papa goes off to see what assistance he can give. _____.

Move back into my bedroom. It now resembles the Hall of Mirrors at Versailles. [You know, that was the place where Catherine the Great said: 'Let them eat cake.'] It is splendid though. I had difficulty sleeping though because of those horrid French tourists, herded together like sheep, filing through the place as though it's open to the public. What a liberty! What would Marie Antoinette have said if she'd still been living here? [Didn't she coin the phrase about not being able to have your cake and eat it?] All answers please on a stamped addressed envelope to the King George Fund for Sailors.

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Tuesday September 21, 1976

Sorry if I'm neglecting daily bulletins on Maria's condition but things really have ceased to happen. She shows as many signs of giving birth as I do. Oops, I've just had quins. No, but rely on me, as soon as I hear anything you'll be the first to know.

Oh no!! You are not going to like this at all. Do you recall what I said on the previous page about 'the YP plodding along quite nicely...' &c? Well I'm very sorry to say that the paragraph at the bottom of the page is one catastrophic error and should have appeared on this page. It was tonight that the Duke of Edinburgh didn't get lost at sea, and it was on this eventful night that Leonard James Callaghan continued to breathe and his heart continued to pump regardless of the Rhodesian question, and the somewhat 'murky' past of Davina Sheffield.

Monday night was in fact a quiet one spent in front of another Dirk Bogarde film on the BBC. Is it true that he is homosexual, or is it a figment of my imagination? [Come on you lot! Take down a copy of 'Who was Who in the Acting World of the Twentieth Century' and look up Mr Bogarde for me].

Still sleeping on a camp bed.

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Monday September 20, 1976

Another day decorating my bedroom, and Lynn & Susan's. Sue joined Dad and I today and proved a great help. A great kid is our Sukey. By 5 o'clock I've put the finishing touches to to the window in my room and the final completed effect is impressive.

Dad seems determined to go ahead with his meeting with the chief constable on Wednesday and his resignation is imminent. Mum is getting upset about it too because Dad doesn't seem to know what to do if, or when, he does eventually resign. Discuss the pub business at tea time again. Oh God - talk about history repeating itself.

The YP was plodding along quite nicely and it always gives me the feeling that it wouldn't really miss me if I didn't turn up for work. Must have something to do with the enormity of the place. Nothing in the news. The Prime Minister is still alive and the Duke of Edinburgh hasn't been lost at sea or anything, and so I take my leave at 11pm.

Have fried liver & onions and then collapse on my camp bed with revolting indigestion. Liver just doesn't go down well with me at all. Just two words before I go - Neville Chamberlain.

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