Wednesday December 29, 1976

A massive communal breakfast with John, Sheila, Mum and Dad, Valerie, Auntie Mabel, Lynne and Lynn, &c. J & S go off to Mrs Dorothy Holland's residence at Pudsey in order to collect cousin Robert and take him back to Oxford. I feel grotty and revolting. My bones ache. All the same, Lynne and I go to the Commercial for a couple of drinks. Even she says I look ill. We go on to Burley [in Wharfedale] so that she can telephone her beloved managing director or somebody equally high up in the fibre distributing hierarchy.

Dad, Mum, Auntie Mabel, Uncle John, Valerie, Sheila & Lynne

Royal Albert

Home for 'high tea' on the Royal Albert tea service with Mum, Dad and old Maud Monkman [born March 28, 1896]. It was the old girls 55th wedding anniversary on Boxing Day. God, she had more than half a century of married life. Not my cup of tea by any means whether it's on the Royal Albert or not.

At 4.15 Lynne goes off to York to get a train to London - strictly business of course - the fibre distributing business.

I sit in a crumpled heap by the fireside - a broken man. A physical wreck. I ring Judith R. to cancel our 'Pink Panther' arrangements for tonight. [Yes, Sue, Pete and I went down to the Hare at about 9pm on Dec 26 where I arranged a clandestine meeting with Miss Rushworth for tonight]. Jude is very considerate and I insist it is more of a postponement than a cancellation. Watch TV until midnight. Stuart called in at 9.30 to enquire about Friday. Arranged to meet at the Hare & Hounds.

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Tuesday December 28, 1976

I have an alarm call at 7.30 and let myself out of the Lawson residence and go across the frost covered playing fields to the bus stop. Oh how cold it is! Stand until 8.30 and then, after waiting for an hour without a sign of public transportation of any kind, I decide to call it a day and go back to bed at David's. The house [on Tennyson Street] has a yale lock, and from this you can surmise that I am prevented from re-entering the aforementioned house and no amount of banging on my part could awaken Mr Lawson or Tosca [the toy poodle]. So, I went back across the frosty field to the bus stop and stood waiting until 9.20am. Nearly 2 hours at a cold bus stop.

Work was dead and I don't know why I bothered going in. At 12 I left for home again. [Uncle] John, Sheila, Valerie and Auntie Mabel are with Mum and Dad, JPH, Susan and Peter N. Sheila looks slimmer. She's had a hysterectomy or something. We all have lunch together and then go down to John & Maria's. Lynne comes at 7pm. Party at John & Maria's is very good. Maria has put on a good buffet. The house is packed with Rhodeses. Maria gives a recital on the piano. Home at a late hour after de-frosting Lynne's car. Surely one of the coldest nights since the Creation? Not including the Ice Age that is.

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Monday December 27, 1976

Bank Holiday in England, Ireland & Wales. No Lynne. Dave Lawson's Christmas party. What a night! In fact the afternoon wasn't that bad either. Went with Mum, Dad, Sue & Peter to John and Maria's at lunchtime. They're both still in bed. Dangled JPH on my lofty knee for a while and at 12.30 or maybe 1 o'clock Sue, Pete and I adjourned to the Commercial for something of a damp lunch. Ron [Lindley] is giving pork pies away because no one is buying them. Do you blame them? Grief! Who wants salmonella food poisoning at Christmas? Lynn and Dave join us at 1.30.

One of Ron's unwanted pies

Ron Lindley

Maria and JPH

Go to Dave L's at 3 o'clock and sample his punch and [sloe] gin. Completely pissed up by now. He is pleased to see us and looks lonely.

Back at Pine Tops Auntie Mabel has arrived on a four-day state visit. She goes with Mum, Dad, Lynn and Dave to the Baker residence tonight.

Dave's party begins somewhat quietly at the Yorkshire Rose. All the gang assemble. Well, er, when I say gang I mean all the Rhodes family plus Chris, MM and Marita. The party is tremendous. I turned my hand - or perhaps leg - to 'Go Go' dancing. It moved Marita anyway. Dave and I are left alone at 3am and I sleep in Mr & Mrs Lawson's bedroom.

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Sunday December 26, 1976

1st after Christmas. It isn't Boxing Day today. I don't think so anyway. Boxing Day cannot fall on a Sunday. However, Yuletide or not I'm well aware of the excitement you undoubtedly share for the gripping adventures of the Hay clan. Now read on.

He [William de la Haye no less See Dec 21] was granted a charter [still intact and well preserved in the Erroll papers] of the feudal barony of Erroll in the Tay estuary, county Perth, most of the witnesses being also Anglo-Normans from Cotenin. He [William de la Haye that is] married a nice lass by the name of Eva a Celtic heiress, of Pitmilly, and possibly of other lands near the Tay estuary, and the old legend that the lands of Erroll were acquired by a Falcon's flight, in reward for an ancient victory over Viking invaders, may have been derived from the clan of which she was heiress....

Is this a Nut House? Surely only a loony could fill his diary with such rubbish? I wonder what Margaret Thatcher is putting in her diary at the moment? 'Lunched with Ted at his place before going over the ruddy devolution problem with Quintin [Lord Hailsham] at his place. Shirley [Williams] had a nice gown on today. She says she picked it up cheap in the C & A sales....' and so on.

Saturday December 25, 1976

Christmas Day. Wake up at 9.30 or so on Lynn & Sue's bedroom floor. Go for a 'Merry Christmas' session around the house first paying a call on John, who is sat in my bed nursing JPH. Mum and Dad are downstairs and I can hear Maria talking with Lynn and Susan. John says he has recovered from the illness that descended on our house like a plague yesterday. The baby is laughing and gurgling - so fantastic. His first Christmas.

John, Mum, Maria and JPH, Christmas Day, 1976

Meanwhile 10 minutes later: we all gather in the lounge for the present opening ceremony. The baby is amused with the Mickey Mouse brought to him by Santa. I have a black pullover from Sue & Peter, Eau Savage from Lynn & Dave, and the same from Miss Thornton-le-Dale. Mummy and Daddy gave me £5. That's enough present details. It gets monotonous. Late lunch at about 4pm. It is fabulous. A candelabra on the table and Royal Albert china. Posh eh?

Laze around for the rest of the night. See the usual things on TV like Morecambe & Wise and then Rod Steiger in 'Waterloo' and much more. Sleep kept creeping upon me and I frequently passed into unconsciousness in the chair. A lovely Christmas day - but unusual. Probably because John's always been here on Christmas Day and he was round at Molly & Jim's for lunch. Mum keeps mentioning his name as though he's miles away.

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Friday December 24, 1976

It's not only Christmas Eve. In fact it's also King John's 810th birthday today! Happy Birthday, Your Majesty*** Wherever you may be ... probably in a more sober frame of mind than I am now. Last night I slept in the spare room at Stuart's flat above Smith's, and he gave me a lift home at 7.30am. Dave B was sleeping in the lounge and his semi-pissed future brother-in-law made him a cup of tea and sat underneath the Christmas tree chatting with him for half an hour or so.

At the Central with Judith

Down to Leeds in the Spitfire at 8.30 - singing all the way, and my arrival at the YP creates something of a sensation. Why? Well, how many people go to work pissed up other than ___, _____, and the editor? Work is lousey and Mr Michael Rhodes can barely focus on the damned newspaper. Horrible. By 12 o'clock we, the blessed library staff, are having our usual Asti Spumante party behind the filing cabinets. It was all a bit flat. Is it true that good old Santa Claus is coming tonight?

At Pine Tops, Christmas Eve 1976

***I don't think King John was ever a 'Majesty'. He was a Lord Sovereign Highness, or something like that.


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Thursday December 23, 1976

What a bloody laugh. Lynne beetles her way up the lane at 7.30 and we take Sue, Pete N, & Mr & Mrs Nason to the Craiglands [hotel] in Ilkley before dropping off Martyn's 'things' at his residence. Miss Mather and I then motored to Neville's Wine Bar [she prefers Neville's to the Vineyard for some ridiculous reason] and after putting away a bottle of wine I suggest going to Stuart's flat for my jeans and pullover. An innocent enough suggestion you may think - and it certainly was meant to be one, but Oh dear, just see what occurred. 

We found Stu and Andrew attempting to clean up in readiness for Mr & Mrs Walker's visit for the festive season, but I gave them leave to crack open a bottle of Scotsmac. One or two bottles later Stuart, far from being a sober manager of W.H. Smith and Sons Ltd, happened accidentally to refer to Lynne as 'Carole' - a name not unfamiliar to Miss Mather's ear-holes. With this slight she leapt from her chair with the words: 'Come on, Michael. We're going.' With a flourish she swept from the room like Lady Bracknell. I, of course, had no intention of leaving and remained firm and defiant throughout. Minutes later she's sat in her squat little car beneath the balcony of W.H. Smith's, and I proceeded to give a Mussolini-like lecture from above. Then she was gone into the darkness, not unlike [Stanley] Baldwin's departure from Fort Belvedere in 1936. 

A much warmer atmosphere was circulating in the upper chambers of that bastion of book selling. In fact the mood of we three lads was not unreminiscent of the aura circulating in the private suite of Adolf Hitler on the night he made himself chancellor of the Third Reich. [That's enough dictators, I think]. Minutes later, Stuart, Andrew and I were at the Stoney Lea where we made merry until 2am. Andrew Walker Esq pinched someones cigarette lighter, which wasn't very nice, but things like this do happen when one is as pissed as he was. The theft of a lighter is a much nicer crime than say raping three nuns in the rear of taxi - or is it? [By the time you, dear reader, sit reading this rape may well have been legalised].

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