Monday April 25, 1977

A revolting day. Went to the office fully expecting a battle with Kathleen, over what I don't quite know, but to my great disappointment she is taking the day off.

Scargill: signed photograph

Sarah and I joined a trade union this afternoon. Yes, Jack Jones and that lot. A revolting thing for me to do in Silver Jubilee year but no one, and I mean no one, is going to cut my throat. I'm fully expecting a signed photograph from Mr & Mrs Arthur Scargill and red badge in tomorrow's post. I do feel somewhat restless as to what I'm going to say to the beloved chief (Kathleen) in the morning  but the main theme will be centred around the Friday night working - or lack if it.  I think I'll change the subject now, anyway.

Some boring oil rig has gone and sunk, I think. Billions of gallons of crude oil is giving Bridlington's director of tourism something of a headache. Black shit all over the beach cannot be a good advertisement, can it? I can't stand Bridlington anyway and besides, the cleansing of thousands of soggy seabirds will give the out of work landladies something worthwhile to do.

Read more of the 'Dear Letters' and watched a play on TV. Nothing more startling. Spike Milligan was on followed by repeats of 1969 Monty Python. Bloody hilarious they are - so good to see good comedy for a change. Better than all that 'My Neighbour Next Door' shit and 'Never Mind the Quality Feel the Tit'.

Bed at 11.05 with 'Dear Letters'. Looking forward like Mr Churchill did on the eve of Dunkirk to sticking one over on Kathleen tomorrow. Let not victory be denied ...


-=-

Sunday April 24, 1977

2nd after Easter. Arose at 12. Edith Blackwell had just been in and Mama had entertained her to breakfast of eggs and bacon of all things. A peculiar thing to do I must say. Mind you, Edith is a peculiar old thing. (Yes, you've guessed correctly - "thing" is the word of the day).

I came down and had a cooked thing and went back up to my thingy and filled in the thing with that thingummy. Thing, Thing and Thing are covered in grease underneath John's thing on the drive. Those bleeding things never work right. I for one wouldn't have the patience to mess around with them. Not rellishing the idea of going into the thing this afternoon. No doubt thing will have left me a note informing me of a proposed catastrophic change in my social life. No Bloody chance, Kathleen!

The Hon Chris Monckton

Sue and I walked round to Ridgeway and took JPH for a ride, walk, push, call it what you will, in his pram. Jimmy was marking essays and breaking wind. He blamed the beer he'd had of late. Maria bundled baby up and Sue and I walked him in the sun up Thorpe Lane and to Pine Tops where he was pandered to and played with by his doting grandmama until his benevolent Uncle Mike returned him home at 4.

To work after dinner. Ursula confirms that Kathleen's plans for Friday nights are as sinister as I thought they were.

Chris Monckton invited me to his Silver Jubilee party at Wetherby Town Hall on June 18. I must go to that one. He has a sister you know and I'm sure a 'Hon' in the family would prove quite refreshing. The Hon Miss Monckton is about my age too.

Home by taxi at 11. The taxi driver talks of the death of the Leeds Rugby League player Sanderson who died on the pitch this afternoon during a skirmish with Salford players.

To my bedroom at 11.30 with Queen Victoria's correspondence with the Empress Frederick and vice versa, 1865-1871.

-=-

Saturday April 23, 1977

St George's Day. Up at 11 and after ten minutes or so a panic-stricken Sarah rang to say Kathleen will shortly be ringing to put a new scheme to me about working Friday nights in future following another "Mrs J Incident" yesterday afternoon when she apparently spent her working hours in a Bacchanalian orgy in the editor's office. Kathleen is now intending to work no night shifts because these disgraceful incidents only ever occur when she isn't in the office.

Kathleen rang at 11.30 but Mum told her I was out. Good old Mum who never tells lies. She did it quite convincingly too. If she insists on pushing this Friday night lark I shall go.

I rang Sarah but only Delia was in. She had me in stitches about the Harrogate Flower Show disaster. The marquee collapsed and hundreds of pounds worth of damage was caused. Queer sense of humour don't you think?

Chat with Lynn about relationships. _______.

New Knights of the Garter are the Earl of Cromer and Lord Elworthy. No one sensational like Tommy Docherty or George Best ever get it.

Peter.

Peter M came at lunchtime. He announced that Chris isn't socialising today because of forthcoming examinations and so he came to pester me for a change. We went to see Tony in Ilkley and decided to go out in a foursome tonight - Linda included.

Back for tea at 5.30. John and Maria were just leaving for their country retreat on Ridgeway and Mum and Dad head off to Wath for dinner. Susan and Peter go to Flashman's. They return with tales of wonderment but  I cannot see anything taking the place of dear Wikis.

Pete arrived at 8 and Tony and Linda half an hour later. To the Bod in Bradford. A very good pub. Packed out with females. Laughed with Linda until my sides ached. Peter M and I were more than a little pissed. He came back home and had coffee and played the record player at full belt. The others were still out. Lynn and Dave went to see the new Barbra Streisand film.

Pete said he'd enjoyed himself for the first time in ages. _______.

-==

Friday April 22, 1977

I bet you didn't know it is St George's Day tomorrow, did you? Well it is. Who will be the new Knights of the Garter? Just wait and see. Eager thrusting peasants that you are.

Day off. Slept until noon and then came down for lunch with Mama and Papa - fish and chips. Spent all afternoon reading 'Majesty'. Yes, doing nothing else whatsoever. Bliss it was too. The only strenuous task was making the occasional cup of coffee.

The Princess, Apperley Lane 

John, Maria and the young prince came for dinner at 5.30 and when Martyn came at 7.30 we went with John and Maria to the Emmott Arms. They left after one drink and Martyn and I walked down to Gayle's residence. Carol, aka 'Emu' is there too. We went to the Princess on Apperley Lane where the barman is eight foot six inches tall, or on stilts. Carol is a bit cool at first but a couple of bitter lemons soon remedy that.

The Woolpack at Yeadon was our next port of call and then the Station on Henshaws Lane. Andy and Linda were in. Emu and I do a spot of tap dancing and somehow embarrass Gayle. Martyn was pissed but insisted on denying it. Emu doesn't believe I'm 22 and says I'm only 18 or 19. She can suit herself. I can be nothing but flattered. A marathon stroll to the Stone Trough concluded our 'crawl'. Maura was there with her entourage. A friend of Emu's says I sound 'Scottish'. Christ Almighty! I've been called some things in my time but this is the very worst. Scottish! Those oil grabbing pagans?  Oh I can't bear it. Harry Lauder and all that. It's just too much.

Back to Emu's place (Gayle is staying there). Very similar to the Dean family of Queensway. They're very broad Yorkshire and proud of it. Emu tells them I live on Hawksworth Lane and an icy pall falls over the house. Watched two revolting films whilst Martyn slept in the armchair. Emu was hysterical and said she was making herself ill with laughing. Should I become a comedian do you think?

Martyn and I came home by taxi to Pine Tops. He slept on the settee.Sue and Peter were entertaining Janet Simon and boyfriend.
-=-

Thursday April 21, 1977

Felt buggered all day. Like an old age pensioner in fact. Weak and wilting I fear.

Union Jacks flutter on the tops of masts in Leeds as indeed they are fluttering throughout the nation in honour of Her Majesty's 51st birthday. The sight of that red, white and blue surge quickened my pace somewhat but knackered I was all the same.

Martyn: 

Nothing worth mentioning about the YP other than pay day, and the least said about that pathetic subject the better.

Home for tea with just Mum and Dad. Tony called in to see if I'm going out tonight and I let him know the sad news. He too is short of cash but he's not letting it stand in his way. With that he's off back to Ilkley leaving me with my bacon pizza and chicken leg.

Martyn phoned to confirm tomorrow nights rendezvous with Emu and Gayle. He said Emu is quite nice and a good laugh which is a tremendous improvement on his last bulletin. He adds that he saw her earlier in the week and now approves of her fully after taking a sly peep down the front of her dress. We also talked about the holiday - 10 weeks away!

Saw 'Top of the Pops'. Retired to bed in the region of 11 and continued reading. Just heard Georgie Fame's new record on the old wireless and have taken a tremendous shin to it. 'Daylight' it's called, but it's far from daylight now and I'm going to bed. Oh bed, faithful old bed.

-=-

Wednesday April 20, 1977

Obtained a signed copy of 'Majesty' by Robert Lacey this afternoon. Lacey was at a YP Literary Lunch with Harold Macmillan and others and Carol managed to lay hold of a copy for me. 'To Michael In This Her Majesty's Jubilee Year' it says. Read about 80 pages before embarking for the Hare & Hounds tonight and really enjoyed it. Of course I recognised many of the quotations because I've read virtually everything on the Royal House of Windsor and I am a leading authority on Her Majesty (Yes, he's showing off again).

Peter N drove me to the pub and we had a couple of drinks together. Judith was in with Kathyrn Ann Young (I have confirmed the spelling) and a Highroyds Hospital psychiatrist is making them laugh hysterically. Peter left after after a couple of lagers and Judith and Kathryn joined me at the bar. Guinness, Pernod, Tequila, &c. I even knocked a pernod and orange clean off the bar. Heart-broken I was. John came in with Jimmy Macdonald and Fogarty. _______. Back to Judith's until 1am. I was a bit pissed.

Home to bed with 'Majesty' and read as far as King Edward VIII and his brief reign. Yes, even in a state of intoxication I can open a volume of a serious nature and pass a pleasant half hour. You are indeed looking at the diary of brilliant scholar, can't pass exams, but brilliant all the same.

-=-

Tuesday April 19, 1977

Got to work and felt particularly violent towards the moronic inhabitants of the crumbling building of my employ. Matt Shelley for one moved to the top of my assassinations list. Blimey, just because he's got no legs he thinks he can get away with bloody murder. Well, I for one don't have one ounce of pity or sorrow for him. Being pushed around all day eh! OK Big Matt I must say that reduces me to tears. If you want to go messing around with fast cars you must suffer the consequences. Piss off, old man!

Isn't it strange how I become enraged by certain people? Am I perhaps the murdering kind? No doubt at this very minute a Scotland Yard detective is combing these very pages for evidence. Well, hard luck, Constable. I'm not telling you just who I've killed or under which cabbage patch he or she is buried.

The Prince of Wales dined at Chequers last night and met the Cabinet. Queen Victoria wouldn't have liked that idea at all.

with Carole

Two phone calls at tea time. Auntie Mabel phones to say she met the ancient sister of one of Grandma Wilson's bridesmaids in Pudsey who told her that John Wilson married Levinyer Wood at St Paul's, Richardshaw Lane, and that my great-grandmother Wood had a baby daughter who died, also named Mabel. Good old auntie doing some family research for me.

Martyn rang to say the date with Gayle and 'Emu' is on for Friday. He suggested Manningham Fair but we debate whether the fair will still be there by Friday. Who can we contact to find out? Martyn suggests the Minister for Home AFFAIRS. No doubt my FAIRY godmother will drop in later with the answer.

Martyn thinks I'm insane dating the famous Emu. Even Tony, who falls for anything in knickers, gives great belly laughs when he hears her name mentioned. Do they know something perhaps which I do not? Can one catch horrible, incurable diseases from the emu? Tell me now before it's too late.

At 7.30 I went round to Ridgeway to see John and Maria who are in residence in the absence abroad of Jim and Molly. John is out with George (Waite) and Maria is entertaining Carole - our first meeting since March 9. Why does Carole bring out the imbecile in me? I go incredibly childish, and so too does Maria. The atmosphere is so infectious. We made such a racket laughing and forgot about the baby until John came in and reminded us. It must have been Ridgeway too .... memories of Carole, John, Maria, &c. You know the rest. She didn't mention Fogarty and neither did I. John drove me home at 10.30.

See funny old President Carter on the BBC.

-=-

Monday April 18, 1977

Vera Lynn

Slept quite late and went to Leeds on the bus at 9.30am. Uninteresting day and don't propose to say any more about ghastly work. Didn't get home until 6.30. The road works on Kirkstall Road held everything up but, as in times of national strife and war, we passengers pulled together and sang songs and danced into the early hours. The soup kitchens rang to the sound of gay chatter and sea shanties. Vera Lynn would have finished things off nicely but we had to make do with a flea bitten excuse for a bus conductress.

Judith rang from the Hare to see if I wanted to join her in a few droplets (of ale) but I declined the honour. Or should I say I put it off until Wednesday. Couldn't face anything tonight. I have just been thinking about the Peter Mather ________Saga. Unbelieveable.________. Dave L cannot get over it.

Retired to my chambers at 12.30 after a recent Susan Hayward film. I do believe she's dead isn't she? Starring Lee J. Cobb too and Sir Cedric Hardwicke, Douglas Fairbanks (senior), Anna Mae Wong, Paulette Goddard, Vivien Leigh, Fidel Castro, Dr Crippen, Oscar Petersen, Olav V, King of Sweden and many more. I'm insane.

-=-

Sunday April 17, 1977

Low Sunday. Come to think of it, I didn't feel particularly high today. Don't get me wrong, I'm not really 'low' but I have been 'higher' at former times of my existence. For instance, I was very 'high' on New Year's Eve. Oh, belt up, you fool.

John brought the car up (it ceased to function this morning) and he spent all day with Dad and Dave B messing about with it in sub-Spring-like temperatures on the drive. I read 'Your Dear Letter'. Watched a Margaret Rutherford/Alastair Sim epic. Films of this nature are usually about half way through when Dad comes in and rolls on the floor moaning: 'now you know why so many cinemas closed down in the 1950s'. I happen to like old films.

To the YP this evening. Yes, work. Low Sunday really fits now. Nothing of interest at the YP. Get on with Ursula so very well but need not comment on it here.

Saturday's nationals all fell for the Kensington Palace  'deliberate mistake' re the so-called 'Lord Culloden' fiasco. The Times especially went on to comment on what a delightful title it is, and how apt it should come back into circulation in this year, the 230th since the death of the Duke of Monmouth (sic) lost in battle there. Bollocks, if you pardon my expression.

Taxi home at 11.30pm. The driver seemed quite normal. Oh yes, I do get odd cab drivers occasionally. On particularly odd, at the forefront of my mind, considers himself to be the world's greatest living expert on snakes, and advised me how successfully to run away from one if I'm ever suddenly confronted by a venomous creature. Another is a qualified meteorologist. These cabbies trap innocent, sleepy victims, such as I, and proceed to pour out their secret plans for world domination. Oh, yes. I've met the next Adolf Hitler on several occasions en route from Leeds to Guiseley. What is worse some even attempt to be amusing.

-==-

Saturday April 16, 1977

Arose at 10.30am to a brilliant morning. The warmest of the year so far. Mum and Dad go off to the cash and carry in Leeds and they give me a lift to Guiseley with my library books. A 60p fine for allowing four miserable volumes to go two weeks overdue! A somewhat severe penalty don't you think? Blimey, one would think I'd torn them into tiny pieces and devoured them. Back home by 12.

Have two cups of coffee and look at volumes of Queen Victoria's correspondence with the Empress Frederick, 1861-1871.  I believe I've read the 'Dearest Child' letters which covers the period prior to 1868, I'm not sure. I also got two volumes of Trollope's 'Palliser' novels. Don't know whether I'll read them or not.

Later sat in deckchairs at the front of the house with Mum whilst Dad messed about under the car. John and Maria brought baby at 1.30 and Maria went off shopping to Bradford leaving both Johns with us. The baby is taking much more notice of things. A delight he really is. Expect to see Tony who said he might call in with his son, Stephen, who is two and a half, but we see no sign of him.

I retired to the lounge at 3 to watch the ancient film 'The Winslow Boy' on BBC2. Sue and Peter joined me with JPH and they attempted to feed him with chocolate buttons and a Milky Bar.

At tea time Maria returns from her shopping trip with a Boots gift token for 'someone' she tries not to mention. Is it perhaps for Miss Phillips's engagement? I wonder. Why keep it all a secret?

John announces he is going to the Hare and so I give in and say I will join him. Willpower isn't one of my strongest points really. Out to the Hare. Stand with CB for an hour until she goes off with Chris Blades. I then spotted Cowie (remember him? The Emmotts with June, Linda West and me in the Spring of 1973). I stood with him and his common-law girlfriend until closing time. He gave me his address and said something about keeping in touch. Great stuff. Pete M is hilarious. 'Orgasm' appears to be his favourite word at the moment. He must have just discovered them or something.  Supped Guinness tonight.

Tony and Linda came in at 10 o'clock. We were all laughing about Christmas babies for some reason.

-==-

Friday April 15, 1977

Spring morning. Spring afternoon. Spring evening. I have yet to have a Spring night because it's only 7.30pm, but I suppose I will do.

Duchess of Gloucester

It was announced this morning that the Duchess of Gloucester is having a baby in November too. The PA report in the EP stated that the child, if male, would assume his father's second title, Baron Culloden. Balderdash. The barony of Culloden is a courtesy title to be borne by the eldest son of the Duke of Gloucester's eldest son, the Earl of Ulster. The baby will be either Lord or Lady (Christian name) Windsor. It took me about an hour to convince the subs desk that this was so. Evidently it was a Kensington Palace spokesman who announced the crap information. Two Royal babies in Jubilee year eh? I could say the year is going with a bang, but I won't bother.

Work until 5pm and find myself in a traffic jam on Kirkstall Road for thirty minutes. It was too hot and people were dropping like flies on the omnibus. Home at 6. Dad is doing his bit 'giving blood' in Guiseley. A hideous thought which brings to mind the likes of Count Dracula and that ghoulish lot. Surely, if we're given eight or ten pints of the stuff I think it must mean we need every drop for ourselves - selfish maybe but that sort of thing just isn't for me.

Later: yes, it was a Spring night. Went to the Hare with Sue & Peter expecting to get up to our usual activities but instead met up with Dave L and a group of his friends from deepest Gloucester. The four of us go to Woodhouse Moor fair and have a great time.It is revolting that David is no longer resident in these parts. It was just like old times on the waltzer, cyclone, the toffee apples, candy floss. Back to the Hare & Hounds at 10.30. Dave and friends left at 11 and Martyn and I waited for Tony to arrive. With Chris & Pete M the 3 of us go to Oakwood Hall. Not much doing at all. Completely uninteresting and dead. The place is full of unattractive prostitutes - but no, because most of the girls here are quite willing to do it for free. Home by 1.30. Everyone got on my nerves. The trip to Oakwood ruined the whole evening. Christ. Have I mentioned that Peter M is to be Andy Graham's best man? Dave L quipped that he is on the short list to be one of the ushers.

-==-