Friday March 11, 1977

CB's 21st party. It's a happy birthday also today to Lady Falkender's best friend.

CB: pot fulls of pernod.

Up at 9. Yes, it's my day off too. Leapt into the bath and then prepared for my visit to Pudsey. Susan contributes a few bob to my Auntie Mabel Flower Appeal. To Auntie Mabel's for lunch. On the way I bump into Uncle Peter and Auntie Jean who are out shopping. Chat for a few minutes. Stay with Auntie M until 4pm.

CB's 21st (birthday) party at the Hare. Only spent 67p. Everyone got incredibly pissed up. Remember Marion Read? Maura Tobin? (see diary for Jan or Feb '75). Howled with Marion. She's quite mad. CB drank pot fulls of pernod all night (the pot is in fact a Silver Jubilee Commemorative mug).  At one point I was having to hold her up and we danced round the crowded room. We even kissed. She kept saying 'I didn't know I had so many friends'. David L came but was quiet. I chatted with MM. Tried to seduce Marita. Fondled the future Mrs Christine Airey. Judith said 'yes' to tomorrow night. Good.

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Thursday March 10, 1977

Half dead all day after the excesses of last night. Buggered is the word.

News: Gough Whitlam said some ill mannered things about the Queen at a banquet in her honour. What can we expect from the Aussies? Culture? Manners? Prince Edward is a teenager. President Carter has been making strange phone calls to lots of weird people in America.

To Batley Variety Club with Tony and Martyn. Madeline Bell sang. Absolutely brilliant. Why she hasn't been more of a success I will never know. Blue Mink, the group with whom she was the singer, were good in their day but she's a star in her own right. She has a good sense of humour too. I only spent 60p or so. Yes, it was one of my first attempts to 'pull in' as Denis Healey would say.

Tony says I've become subdued over the past couple of weeks. Why? He tells me that Carole and Fogarty are not contemplating an engagement. _____propaganda machine must be failing, eh? It's Tony's birthday next Wednesday and he's taking Martyn and Carole to Batley. I'd like to go but with £3 left it's impossible. Besides, with Miss P attending I'd only spoil things.

Thank God no work tomorrow. I feel as though I've been slaving away non stop for weeks on end. Should I perhaps change my job? I do need the cash desperately  but I'd miss the mob at the YP and the dear old news cuttings.

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Wednesday March 9, 1977

Christine Dibb and Graham Airey got engaged. It was a good party - better than I expected. Went with Tony, Martyn and Gayle (Martyn's distant cousin of Oakwood Hall fame). Teamed up with CB and we danced together. I could see Mr ____________seething. Why does Mr _______always accuse other males of stealing his so-called women when everyone knows all along that they were not his women in the first place? CB was fabulous anyway.

Christine & Graham.

Laughed with Lynn about Mr _____ and _____gossiping. In fact Mrs ______was far from pleasant this evening. Bitchy really. Carole came in minus a toe nail and spent most of the evening with Tony. I ate nothing and drank much. Pissed up really.

Peter M told me that dear Lynne is now the regular escort of an officer of the Queen's Dragoon Guards or the Green Howards. Peter says the new specimen is worse than me.

Tony talks about a trip to Brands Hatch a week on Saturday. So far me, Naomi and Martyn are going. Camping for just the one night. Is Brands Hatch in Kent?

Sue and Peter were quaint and  John stayed in the bar avoiding ________lampooning. I mislaid my jacket but CB retrieved it for me. Home at 12, 1 or 2. I don't know. Take your pick. Sit in bed feeling pissed. Still reading Evelyn Waugh (diaries). Really bogged eyed. Pathetic really. It was all for a good cause anyway. Will the engagement last?

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Tuesday March 8, 1977

David's 21st and Auntie Mabel's 58th. I phoned Auntie M at Marlene's and she seemed quite cheerful. It's her first (birthday) without Uncle Jack and it must be weird.

David: 21st birthday.

Not a particularly good day.Went to the EMI shop and bought 'Songs In the Key of Life' by Stevie Wonder on behalf of Mum for dear David___________.

I received a jolt over breakfast when Lynn informed me that my ex-consort, Miss Mather, will be attending David's party. Nothing to worry about I suppose. Made an effort to ring Tony but he didn't answer. I think he may be out with Martyn and  the Il Trovatore ladies (see Friday's entry).

The Queen made a slip today at the state opening of the Australian parliament. HM referring to her Silver Jubilee celebrations as 'the twenty fifth reign of my year' instead of 'the twenty fifth year of my reign'. Not a big mistake but it gets world-wide notice because she's usually word perfect.

No more tonight. It's becoming a drag having to sit into the early hours of the morning copiously filling in all the useless information.








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Monday March 7, 1977

Went to Rawdon to see revolting Hough about my teeth, but he had no knowledge of my appointment. Stupid eohippus. Not wishing to waste my journey I went to see Marita, who was sat in front of the TV. She startled me by saying she was going to dancing lessons tonight and rocked me to my very foundations even more by saying MM is virtually a qualified dancing teacher. Latin American and all that!  Blimey, he's kept that quiet.

A typical day in French Revolution Paris.

Returned to Guiseley by 6 and passed a thoroughly ordinary evening at home. Well, not quite as ordinary as I would have liked it to be. Mum, Dad and Lynn became somewhat aggravated - heated - call it what you will, when I announced I was intending visiting Mr 'Tammy Wynette' Osborne, manager of the Yorkshire Bank, to obtain a loan. I was immediately declared to be on the path to ruination. Mum seemed to be beside herself with passion invoking the name of Uncle ______ as an example of how I might end up, They were successful in talking me out of seeking a bank loan for the time being, but for a while the scene was somewhat reminiscent of a typical day in French Revolution Paris.

Saw Clint Eastwood in 'A Few Dollars More' and had a hot bath at bewitching hour. Read until 1.30.



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Sunday March 6, 1977

2nd in Lent. Lynne's birthday. Oh God I've just called my sister by a strange name. It's her bloody birthday too. I am sorry. She's just been in my bedroom looking quite ravishing showing me the presents she's bought David for his 21st.  I bought her a bottle of French perfume which she seems to like. Her boss comes round at 10.30 with a bouquet making overtures of affection to her in the kitchen. ________.

Lynn: 19th birthday.

The Prince of Wales has gone off to Kenya shooting the wildlife. Good for him. This gives a good two fingers to these thoroughly boring conservationists, environmentalists, &c.

John, Maria and JPH come up at 2. Baby is making a bit more noise and says "Da Da" and then "Da Da Da" when provoked. Eat turkey, pate, ham - and sup glass after glass of Cinzano. The mean contingent keep reminding me that I have to go to work in a couple of hours and I sit sombrely contemplating the clock. Chris Baker and his girlfriend Julie Harris drop in for half an hour or so.

The YP tonight was absolutely dead. Just Ursula and I. No news. No catastrophe has struck East Ardsley or anything like that. Reading the paper I see that the Prince of Wales is not shooting crocodiles. He is in fact taking photographs of them with Claire Watson, and maybe Miss Sheffield.

Hon Claire Watson: shooting crocodiles.

Home by taxi at 12.30 with a little driver who is a leading authority on snake bites.












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Saturday March 5, 1977

By the time I had climbed out of bed, bathed and shaved it was one o'clock. Quarrel with Lynn about money. She says I am a damn fool and I end up agreeing with her. I have only £2.30 to last me until Thursday and £1.30 of that will disappear on Monday when I visit the dentist. This leaves me with 80p to enjoy myself at Christine & Graham's engagement party. I also need about 90p in bus fares! Shit. Ah well, if I start worrying about financial matters life won't be worth living & so I won't mention this again.

After lunch the sun was still shining brightly and I decided to take a stroll. With hands thrust deeply in my pockets I marched down the lane at a speed not unlike James Hunt in a Grand Prix. Pass the Hare and by 4pm I'm in Burley-in-Wharfedale. By 5 I was crawling through the doors of WH Smith in Ilkley to a warm greeting from the sultry, bespectacled shop assistant whom I fear fancies me. She is a 6th former. Mr Brotherwood entertains me to tea of sausage and mash. he finds it hard to believe I've walked the whole of the eight or nine miles from Guiseley. I passed out in a chair whilst attempting to focus on a Robert Mitchum epic.

with Christine: ruby studded turnip?

Martyn comes and we end up back at the Hare. CB is in and once again she is broken hearted and screaming for vengeance or revenge or whatever they call it when ones pride has received a sharp blow in the genitals. To the Rose and Crown. Boring. CB is incredibly attractive.


 Tony gives me his flat key and then disappears to Il Trovatore with Martyn. CB and I go back to the flat and sit drinking Southern Comfort and Scotch and listening to a Billy Paul LP. She says it's disgusting how she comes running back to me every time one of her relationships is floundering. What are pals for? We laugh and chat. She says she wants nothing but a turnip for her birthday which I'll do my utmost to obtain. I suppose if I were the Shah of Persia I'd give her a solid gold one (turnip) studded with rubies, &c. But I'm not the Shah of Persia.  The lads are ringing the doorbell at 10.30 and our  tete-a-tete comes to an end. Martyn goes home and the three of us squabble. I fail in everything I say because they're both Pisces and I'm a just a cynical Aries who argues for the sake of arguing. 

Mr Billy Paul

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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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