Friday March 4, 1977

RING ILKLEY 3173 TONIGHT!!!

Re yesterday. Isn't it funny that when I said I was pissed and unable to put pen to paper I went on to write a ruddy essay? Oh, and re Sir Frank Marshall: he was once a big noise on (Leeds City) Council - that's about it really. Oh yes, and I saw June on the bus last night and had a terrific chat with her - great kid. It seems I'm spending more time talking about yesterday than discussing the events of today. On with the show anyway:

Christine Dibb.

To the Hare & Hounds with Tony and Martyn which is dull. CB is in minus Richard Marshall and seems her old, cheerful self. We go on to the King's Bar where Miss Dibb is behaving unusually friendly. She must be having her last fling before Wednesday. Chris and Pete M meet up with us but they go at 11. The three of us - quite sober - went back to the flat where I climbed into a pair of Tony's voluminous trousers and headed off in the direction of Il Trovatore. They picked up a couple wenches - Bradfordians I think, and I met up with Andy Dale.


Andy and I have a couple of dances with Naomi's large friend who lives in the gents toilets at the rear of the Hare. He also got his hands on Miss Moorhouse. Had quite a scream. Home with Andy at 2am hotly pursued by Naomi and Karen in N's new automobile. Our two cars rendezvous at the junction half way down the lane and both parties took the piss out of one another. Oh God I'm financially ruined.

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Thursday March 3, 1977

I'm just too pissed to write large amounts tonight. In rough: went to John & Maria's from the YP and was entertained to dinner with sausage and chips in the company of Miss Phillips. She aggravated me immensely. Even after all these months we argue about nothing at all - completely incompatible. Whilst I'm dangling JPH on my alcoholic knee I hear Maria & Carole whispering in the kitchen but can't quite make out just what they are saying. Later, when John and I are entombed in the Yorkshire Rose he tells me that Carole and (Peter) Fogarty are considering becoming engaged. It had to happen really. She wants to be married. I saw it years ago and I supposed it scared the pants off me.

with Carole.

John and I marched down to the Hare (about one and a half miles I'd say) and met Tony and Martyn. Got a bit pissed on Tetley Silver Jubilee Pale Ale (half a pint of this is equivalent to 3 whiskies). John poured some of his ale into my glass. I was well away.

Back at J and M's residence I persuaded Maria to play Beethoven's 'Fur Elise' while the audience sat supping coffee.

Beethoven's Fur Elise

The recital was very much appreciated. Home at 12 just as Mum and Dad return from Auntie Mabel's. I must go over on March 11 with a birthday present. Her first birthday without Uncle Jack will be obnoxious.

Wednesday March 2, 1977

54F in Leeds today. Is bloody summer here already? I'll be 22 before you can say Takeo Miki. Anyway, it was quite a good day all in all.

At lunchtime I met Martyn at Dormie Dress Hire and we're both togged up for evening wear for David B's 21st. The suits are going to cost us £9.50 each to hire, which neither of us can afford, but it will be so worth it for the laughs we'll get and to see the look on the faces of the other guests. Very smart we'll be. I'm not telling anyone at home so as to enhance my spectacular entry into the Aero Club. Tony is getting his gear from Moss Bros. in Bradford.

Sir Frank, later Lord Marshall.

This evening Sarah and I were closeted together in our tiny lift at the YP with that great personage Sir Frank Marshall. By way of conversation I discussed our air conditioning system with him and he told us that his 'members' had enjoyed their visit too. Who or what are his members? Who, or what is Sir Frank Marshall anyway?

I have a couple of quid left over from last night's extravaganza and am sorely tempted to go out tonight for a drink. Let us pray I can withstand the temptation and may God guide me through this sinful evening.

Later that same night: Slip into a coma in an armchair. Tired and shagged out. When did I last go to bed before bewitching hour? You'll be flicking over the pages for the last couple of years to find the answer to that one. No phone calls and feel too lazy to make any. Must write to Judith and get something sorted for March 12.

Had a bath and returned to the TV. A programme glorifying the comedian Tommy Cooper. Must have my hair cropped tomorrow. I can't even afford to do that! Suicide is the only way out.

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Tuesday March 1, 1977

St David's Day. I do hope my Welsh readers have their flags flying today. It was a tiresome day at the YP keeping the conversation away from the subject of Martha Reeves and the Vandellas and Batley Variety Club. Somehow I think Carol J must suspect something because she didn't once mention the subject of tickets to Ursula.

Delia rang at 2.30 to say she is making her TV debut today at 3.45 on YTV (re her flowering arranging genius). She added that she'd just had four of five gin and tonics in the YTV bar and was tipsy. Carol, Sarah and I gathered round the office TV at the pre-arranged time and sure enough Delia emerged onto the 12inch square set in glorious black and white. She was marvellous - her usual hilarious self. I really must get an autograph or signed photo.

Home at 5.30pm for chicken, &c. See in the Daily Mirror - if such a newspaper is to be believed -that Davina Sheffield has taken in a lodger at her London home. Today is her 26th birthday and it may well mark the decline of her liaison with the Prince of Wales. Who knows? Nothing more of vast importance going on in the big, wide world.

Martha Reeves & the Vandellas ...

I am afraid that the month of March is going to be a month of costly entertainment. Numerous birthdays, and an unseemly batch of orgies coming up. How am I going to last until April?

Leave for Batley at 8.30 with Tony & Martyn. Well, what can I say about Batley (Variety Club)? The seats were revoltingly uncomfortable. Either designed by a retarded chimpanzee or Sir Basil Spence. The heat was unbearable and the drinks ridiculously priced. Martha Reeves, though quite good, didn't emerge onto the floor until after 11, and she'd gone by 12. I may have made it sound a depressing night, but it wasn't. Quite good for a Tuesday.





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Monday February 28, 1977

Forgive me keeping you waiting but I mislaid my old pen and have just discovered it tucked under one of the cushions on a chair in the lounge. The last day of February. A revolting month and can't wait to see the back of it.

Martyn told me a good joke.A young man, Jim, is in the pub with Dilys, who lives in her own flat free from parental control. Jim enquires: "How about me coming back to yours for the night?" Dilys replies: "Sorry, but no. You see I'm on my menstrual cycle". "Oh" exclaimed Jim, "that's no bother. I can follow you on my Honda 50."

No Kathleen at the YP today. We chat about the possibility of an evening at Batley Variety Club tomorrow. Ursula has managed to get hold of eight free tickets and I claim three of them for Tony, Martyn and self.

Tony and Martyn come here at 9. After they'd left Lynn remarked how well they seem to get on considering the age difference. Tony is 30 next month and Martyn is only 18. Age is something I never consider.

Miss Phillips range me this morning just to see what I'm getting up to. It must be three weeks since we've spoken. Poor Carole. She should never have met me. I must be a lunatic.

Sir Ian and Lady Caroline Gilmour.

See a Clint Eastwood film and watch Sir Ian Gilmour moan on and on about defence cuts on a boring current affairs programme. Gilmour is opposition defence spokesman and married to a daughter of the Duke of Buccleuch. A regular little alcoholic encyclopaedia, aren't I?






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Sunday February 27, 1977

1st in Lent. Awakened at 10.30 by Maria and baby. Give him a nurse sat naked in bed sheets. Me naked  in bed sheets that is. JPH was fully clothed. I think he was expecting me to breast feed him. Babies are a wonder. I wouldn't mind having a few myself shortly - ones begotten on the wrong side of the sheet, or is it blanket? You know what I'm getting at anyway.

Out at 8 o'clock to the Hare with Tony and Martyn. We fall upon Judith and Kathryn. I ask if she's made any attempt to get March 12 off work to accompany me to David B's 21st. She seems to favour the idea. The three of us go to the Craven Heifer again. It's ridiculously packed - like a London air raid shelter in 1942. All very friendly. Meet three schoolgirls who work as Saturday girls at Smith's in Ilkley. One is a bespectacled Arien and is nice and witty. We are joined by an uncouth cad who has nine endorsements for various motoring offences. The women regard him as something of a sex object. We all go back to the flat for a quick coffee. The girls refer to the absent Barry as 'Mr Munnings' which is thoroughly hilarious. Home by 11.30. To bed.


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Saturday February 26, 1977

A great day. Tony and Martyn come at 12.30 and the three of us go to Bradford. The Gay Liberation movement are holding a mass rally and we seriously consider setting up a 'Kiss Me Quick' stall in Manningham Lane.

Kiss Me Quick Stall?

We go to WH Smith's and make verbal love to Michelle. Delightful bird. Tony buys a pair of shoes, and at 2pm we set off for Uncle George's** residence at Harewood. Up to our knees in mud and slime we head straight for the beer tent where the lager is unbearably cold. Three sausage rolls later we decide that the hill climb is incredibly boring and we head back to the car which is parked in a cow field. Wading through water-bogged trenches we spot the car trapped in by three or four other vehicles. It's like the Battle of Vimy Ridge. Coated in shit we dislodge the car and set off like Japanese mud wrestlers in search of a car wash.

Meanwhile: That night. Down to the Hare with Tony, John & Maria. CB is pissed and says Richard Marshall is rotting in a dungeon in Leeds following an incident at the (Leeds) United match this afternoon. Chris and Pete M come in. Go with Tony, John and Maria to the Craven Heifer at Addingham and Chris and Pete follow on. Tony is such a great lad.

** The Rt Hon. Earl of Harewood.

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