Friday April 29, 1977

CB, on the phone, wakes me at 10.45. The beautiful thing wants to know if I fancy a session at the Black Bull this afternoon but I tell her about the Official Receiver and how he simply wouldn't like me to go. We compromised and said we'd go see Maria and JPH instead.

Played the record player full belt and took a bath and before I knew it it was lunchtime. Cheese on toast with Mama and Papa. Went down to Maria's with great, gaping holes in my shoes. Like a bloody tramp.

Christine: the beautiful thing

Christine came after ten minutes and we gossipped. Yes, no other expression can be given to what we were doing. Not one of our acquaintances escaped the vile insinuations of three idle, coffee swilling peasants upon this dark, unholy afternoon. I saw a look on CB's divine face as I bounced JPH upon my knee, a look I've never seen her show before. I cannot describe it but it spoke a million words.

Paddy Braithwaite brought me home at 5.30. Christine is incredible. I will always feel exactly the same way about her but I do realise nothing will ever come if it and any deeper relationship would only lead to disaster.

Compelled this evening to go out with my peep-toed shoes and felt guilty about it until Martyn showed me the soles (or lack of them) on his feeble footwear.

Tony and I had a quick one in the Hare and collected Martyn and went to the Bod again. Packed out it was and with a profusion of our colonial friends and relations. Met a couple of ladies - one from Halifax. Peter M, Chris and Steve Hudson came in. They're taking Lynne to Manchester tomorrow because she's flying to Ibiza. Denise is going too and they're making a night of it. Peter says he's not _____________.Why? On the way back from Halifax (after taking Mary home) I told Tony that Peter told me last year that the only reason why he (Tony) associates with me is because I am a friend of Denise and he wants to be near her. We laughed. Tony sees Denise sometimes a couple of times a week. I haven't seen her more than a handful of times since last summer.

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Thursday April 28, 1977

Hangover. Rain all morning. Sunshine all afternoon. Soddin' April. Got a £10 postal order for Mr Barclaycard as a contribution to my holiday. God, I only have £50 and I need another £90 in just two weeks time! I'm ruined. Completely and utterly ruined.

Mama and JPH

John, Maria and JPH came for tea and afterwards they left the little treasure with his grandmama whilst they went off to see George Waite about an MGB GT they're thinking of purchasing.

I've a good mind to go and get married because financially things can only improve. Baby watched 'Top of the Pops' and stayed up until 10 o'clock and only grumbled slightly towards the end when his mother came and collected him. JPH is much more attentive now and he played a few games with his grandpapa - throwing his toys on the floor for the old man to pick up seemed to be the main theme.

Saw the second programme in the 'Royal Heritage' tv series. Prince Philip was showing us one of Henry VIII's weapons in the Tower of London and the Prince of Wales was all at sea on HMS Bonington going into detail about the Spanish Armada and Drake and all that lot. Very interesting.

Rang Tony at 7 but he's in Worksop having tea with John Cameron's bit of stuff - the name of whom escapes me. Rang back at 9 and arranged to meet tomorrow. He told me a sad tale indeed of Carole and Peter Fogarty at Denise's last Sunday. Tears, swear words and throwing of engagement rings. Yet they are still engaged. Spoke to Martyn too and told him about Stockport. He may have some golf planned for May 14 but he said he'd do his utmost to keep the day clear.

Don't remember what time I went to bed but it was quite early because I wanted to avoid the by-election crap on the BBC.
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Wednesday April 27, 1977

Am I becoming boring again? Do let me know if I am. A lovely day with the birds singing up above, and all that.

Glynnie.

Sarah is in high spirits and we laugh just like in old times. Everyone's become far too serious lately. O for the joys of Spring!

Rang Judith at 6. She was in the bath but her mother acted as a messenger girl and I'm told she can go out tonight but not tomorrow. I have no money but Mama - bless her - has promised to lend me a couple of quid until I come into my fortune.

John and Dad are under the car again. I will nominate both of them to His Holiness for canonization. St Lawrence, patron saint of Old Bangers, &c.

Princess Caroline

To get to the important things: The Queen and Queen Mother are visiting Baron and Baroness Philippe de Rothschild in France and the Prince of Wales and Duke of Edinburgh are on their way via Nice to Monaco. Is it wedding bells for Prince Charles and Princess Caroline? I bet the Mail and Express will be hinting at this in the morning. Sarah makes me laugh. She says Princess Caroline is "lacking in virtue".

Dave from Stockport rings at 7.30 to see when we're going over to collect his £142. May 7 or May 14 seem to be possible dates. I've only got about £50 saved up. Aaarrghh!

Met Judith at the Hare and Hounds at 9 o'clock - she is of course with Kathryn (who is very nice) but I would like to see Judith alone occasionally. Stay until about 11 and feel a bit pissed, as indeed I always do when I'm with Judith. Kathryn takes us back to her chambers at Highroyds (the asylum) where we drink wine and mess about with her typewriter. Back to Judith's for fried egg and rissole sandwiches until 2am. Home very tired and with a heavy head. Kathryn driving, of course.

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Tuesday April 26, 1977

The great battle with Kathleen never took place. She came in at 9 o'clock and did a Neville Chamberlain on me. In other words she appeased me and for a few minutes I was astounded. "Before you have chance to say no and refuse me" she said "I'm not going to ask you to work Friday nights". That's my little problem solved.

Carol: like Princess Alexandra of Kent

Sarah demanded some action on Carol's behaviour but Kathleen pointed out that the editor and other great officers of state would be on C's side. Allies as it were. Carol came in the office and paraded about as though she was Princess Alexandra of Kent. Sickening it all was, and Sarah looked piteously dejected when we left this evening. We talked of resigning.

At tea time I asked Susan whether Miss Phillips and Mr Fogarty were becoming engaged today. She says that they entered into a matrimonial agreement on Saturday. Minutes later Tony rang and he mentioned Carole. He rang her today and she told him she 'wasn't really bothered' about being engaged and it had been Peter (Fogarty) who had pushed all the way. Does the girl realise just what she is doing? I never intended leading her on but she is now actually engaged to a poor soul with whom she feels nothing but indifference. Martyn has said she is doing all this to spite me and my reaction was that it was a far fetched suggestion but now I'm not too sure. Lynn plays hell about Carole when I tell her of the conversation and she says Carole's attitude is 'immature'.

It pissed down all morning and blinded us with bright sun in the afternoon. I think I'm very tired. My eyes ache and I feel unpleasant too. I don't think I can put up with the strain much longer.

I just sat in front of the television and watched another play. The nine o'clock news boring as usual with the same old story about the 'stricken oil rig'. One oil rig is very much like another. Pleasant sort of person aren't I? Retired to bed at 11 after a bath. Sat with Queen Victoria and the Princess Royal, or Crown Princess of Prussia, or the Empress Frederick or whatever you call her.

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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 ...


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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.

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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. _______.

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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.
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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.

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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.

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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.

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