Sunday January 30, 1977

4th after Epiphany. Up at 12 noon just as John and Maria arrive with JPH in his perambulator. He's parked in the lounge and the usual race follows to see which member of the family can first lay hands on him. The porridge he'd had for breakfast at Molly's didn't stay down. In fact he brought a fair amount of it up all over me. Lynne clears off in the direction of Chris's at Horsforth to collect Peter M for the great trek back to Ty-Onnen. Why do they have to go home just for one bloody night?

John and his first-born.

We had lunch at 2. Peter N included which is quite a laugh because he always 'has a go' at Mum. He has a great sense of humour.

I work tonight. Yes, I give the YP use of my amazing brain for one whole evening. Work 6.20pm - 1am. Not too bad an onslaught really. Did about 48m tons of filing. Oh God, I'm confused again. Women, I'm afraid. Ring Judith and arrange to go see the 'Pink Panther' next Wednesday. We joke about our constant failure to see the danmed thing. Since the Wednesday after Christmas the arrangements have gone hay-wire. Rang Dave Glynn and had a chat.


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Saturday January 29, 1977

Emerge (from my bed) at 11 or so and hear that Lynn and Lynne are going shopping together to Bradford this afternoon which is a relief because NEVER AGAIN will I go shopping with Miss Mather. Our shopping excursion the Saturday before Christmas was one of the most nauseating experiences I have ever had. I'm not joking either. She goes down to Burley-in-W (Lynne that is) to see Stephanie Ferguson about sharing her country residence and comes back saying the rental for the room is £7 plus food and half the bills. Not bad because she forks out £7 already in petrol each week.

Lynn in her dungarees.

Lynn and Lynne return from Bradford at 5 o'clock with a pair of dungarees each. _______. We go to to the Hare at 9 o'clock after collecting John and Maria from Molly & Jim's. Chris, Pete M, Lynne, Lynn, Dave B, Sue, Peter N, Christine D, Graham (Airey), CB (with Rick Marshall !!). Quite a good evening really, especially when Chris gave me the £5 he'd borrowed and which I'd quite forgotten about. Stay at the Hare until 11 and then we take John & Maria back to Molly & Jim's where we remain until 3.15am talking with Molly. She went into great detail about an Edward G. Robinson film that had just finished on the telly. I think she's tremendous and sit enthralled, but by 2.45 John and Lynne were asleep. Only Maria and I survived.

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Friday January 28, 1977

Meet Miss Denise Akroyd outside the YP at 1pm and we go over to the Central and meet Marita who buys us both a pint of lager in honour of her twenty second birthday tomorrow. D and I sit until 2.30 and discuss a few controversial topics including Mr_________.She makes it all sound like Wuthering Heights. A good girl. We plan to have an orgy at her place on February 11.

Back to the YP. Ring Lynne and connect her to Stephanie Ferguson so she can enquire about the Burley-in-Wharfedale residence. Lynne is cheesed off buggering about between Thornton-le-Dale & Roundhay. Quite understandable I think.

Meanwhile: 8 o'clock,  the two of us head to the (Horsforth) Leisure Centre where we attempt to watch the squash finals. Sarah and Peter (Baker) are in foul moods, and after battling though dinner of yet another chicken leg and frozen peas I'd had just about enough. Sarah sobbing all over the dinner table didn't do much to improve the atmosphere. Lynne and I cleared off as soon as it was decently possible to Oakwood Hall, where another 'mortuary atmosphere' prevailed. Peter & Dave Lazenby, Miss Akroyd and Michelle are romping around to old Showaddywaddy singles, &c. Need I say more?

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Thursday January 27, 1977

Don't ask me how I felt today. Oh, my head! Oh my eyes! Oh, my throat &c! To be honest, I think I'm going to die. Yes, it's that bad.

Chris Ratcliffe.

To the Hare at the usual time after taking a whole day to recover. Joined at the pub by Martyn & Chris and at first we're somewhat lethargic. I even sup tomato juice. Our indifference to enjoyment and total lack of vitality is reduced by the arrival of Denise, Naomi, Carole and Karen (a vassal of Miss Akroyd and a pupil of Fieldhead in days long gone by). The reason for the glut of female revellers can be put down to the fact that Miss Downing is celebrating her birthday tomorrow. At 10.30 in snow, shit and hail we all go to the former Minstrel's Gallery (Il Trovatore) again. Martyn wrapped himself around Naomi all night and I paid more attention to Denise than I should have done. Talked with Carole and she seems to think that I loathe her and frowns, scowls, and passes doubtful glances in my direction all night saying I've 'changed'. Well, we all have to change, don't we?

Il Trovatore, Ilkley.

Blimey, we can't go on living life exactly like we did the year before. We come home at 2.30 and Chris and I have a nasty incident in the van over the moors. He just lost control of the vehicle, went into a skid and left the road. A sobering little move it was.

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Wednesday January 26, 1977

Pissed up indeed. Lynn Rhodes (my dear sister) fancied going out for a jar or two with me in the absence of Mr Baker, and I readily agreed. We caught a bus to the Hare and immediately entered into the spirit of the thing. Simon (Denise's work-mate) and his lady friend with the name that escapes me, sat with us and he was 'eyeing' Lynn all over. He thought I was indulging in a bit of  the old 'One-Two-Three-Knees-Up-Knickers-Off-Blossom-'Op-into-Bed-with-Me-My-Old-Fruit' and seemed saddened when I explained that Lynn is my sister. CB was in. She wasn't on form. Where was that famous humour that brought tears of joy to the eyes of thousands at many of the London Palladium matinees? It was because she was driving. The curse of the 20th century is the motor car. The prime example of the 'evil' wrought by this innovation is Christine Braithwaite.

The Trav....

Martyn came into the Hare and after depositing Lynn on the last bus at 10.45 or so the two of us went to the Stoney Lea at Ilkley with Karen, his sister. What a ruddy dead loss! Only six of us in the damned place and at midnight the bar closed and we were out on the street. This did not deter us. With Andy Dale and Chris (his next-door neighbour who was in the police force) we went on to Il Trovatore, or El Lavatori, or whatever, which was once the Minstrel's Gallery. I demolished the best part of £7 and ended up in such a state. God. Was I gone? Blotto. Slept in Martyn's lounge from 4am to 7.30am. Please don't ask me how I felt.

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Tuesday January 25, 1977

You'll all be thrilled to know it's getting near 'Silver Jubilee' time. Yes, just two weeks and Her Majesty will have reigned for a quarter of a century. A new book 'Majesty' by Robert Lacey is on the market soon to commemorate this wondrous occasion. The book should be an eye opener too because it contains details of Princess Margaret psychiatric treatment and the Duke of Edinburgh's sleeping arrangements. Oh, I can't be bothered today_____________.

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Monday January 24, 1977

Bloody fog now. If it's not one thing, it's another. Down to the YP with Jim Rawnsley. Work was hellish. At lunch I went to the Register Office and got a form to send off to Worthing for my grandmother's birth certificate. She was born at Angmering actually - which is near Bognor.

Keith Brown came up at 7.30 to see if I fancy going to Sweden for the weekend on February 18. He mentioned it in the pub a few weeks ago but I haven't given it much thought since. Very tempting it is too. Mum says the trip will cost me £50 (the fare is £16.26 excluding food, drink, and pleasure), but I don't think it can cost as much as she thinks. I know it may seem extravagant after booking a holiday but I can hardly resist.

Lynne comes this evening and within minutes she's talked me out of this Scandinavian extravaganza. People all round me have 'common sense' - why? Am I such an imbecile? Is Michael Rhodes really off his rocker? These questions may never be answered, but they're worth thinking about. Down to the Hare for a couple. Sit with Judith and Kathryn. J looks delectable. She's more and more attractive.

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