Saturday June 4, 1977

Tony and Martyn come this morning to help me put up the Jubilee bunting for the party. A large poster of the Queen in full regalia in the ballroom at Buckingham Palace goes up in a prominent position in the lounge along with Jubilee balloons and a Norman Parkinson portrait too. Very patriotic indeed.

The lads went to Bradford but I stayed at home waiting for Dave and Glen to join us. They arrived at 3.30 and after lunch I took them to Otley where we find an of-licence shop for wine and ale. The three of us spent about £3 each.  We get on famously and Dave is anxious to know when I'm going to Stockport again. The night at the Poco Club was a fabulous evening and it's a shame we don't all meet up more frequently.

Edith & Ernest

Tony, Martyn, Dave, Glen and I went to the Commercial together. Mum, Dad, John, Maria, Sue, Peter, Lynn, Dave B, Dave L, MM, Marita, Sarah, Peter B, Chris, Peter N are in the pub. Not many, and no 'spare' ladies at all. Chris and Pete _________.They're shocked when I say I won't be going to Denise's 21st. I'll be in Stockport on July 9. They took this news very badly. Peter Baker and Sarah had some sort of disagreement in the pub and he took her off home after half an hour or so much to my astonishment. I rang her at 11.30 but she hadn't arrived home and so I presume they must have 'made up' and gone elsewhere.

The throng was joined at home by Edith and Ernest and Mike and Maureen Eccles (the new neighbours). Not many at all really and Lynn says it's the quietest party of all time. I wasn't too pissed and yet I cannot recall much to report. Parties tend to blend together and a six hour spree can be condensed into the space of a few minutes. Glen and I were the last men standing and we were in the dining room listening to Cinzano and drinking the Santana LP 'Abraxas' ...or was it the other way round? I had a couple of cigarettes. That's the minute of my miserable life. It was agonizing watching the dawn break over Tranmere Park and the dreadful racket made by the birds. Oh, my head!

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Friday June 3, 1977

Dave of Stockport rings to say Glen is having a spot of car trouble and that they are now coming tomorrow instead.

Tony.

Tony and I spent the whole day in the garden sunbathing. Just sprawled out in the garden covered in sun tan lotion with the radio serenading us. Wonderful. Mother brought a halt to this when she asked us to go to Morrison's to do the weekly shop for her. We went up at 4 o'clock. Just imagine - me and Tony with a trolley and shopping bags. He's quite a good bargain finder too - he must be used to it what with him once being a married man & the obligations that go with that institution. Mother was very relieved and grateful when she saw the £14 worth of goods piled in the kitchen awaiting her inspection. She loathes shopping.

Meanwhile: that night. Out with Tony and Martyn to the Bod (Bradford) where we meet Michelle and her friends. A nice girl called Mary caught my eye. I have a feeling that Michelle fancies me. Do I fancy her? Well, she's very nice looking, perhaps a bit fat, but endowed with a sweet personality.

We all go on to the Hare & Hounds at Heaton which is very full. Martyn paled with anger and became quite violent in the seething pack of sweating bodies. Took Michelle and the girls home. We kissed against the car. Tony found this very funny sand suggested that Martyn might drive the car in future so that he could sit in the back. He couldn't see why I should have all the fun. In by 11.30pm.

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Thursday June 2, 1977

Oakwood Hall

Hot day. Clad in my new white trousers I went down the lane at 7.30 to meet Carole but my shoes were crippling me and after meeting C we set off back home so I could change my footwear. Carole called in to see Naomi while I was changing. Eventually set off to Bingley at about 8.30, and we went in a cheerful condition. Neither of us argued today and things went much better. Carole told me that _________.The only 'touchy' moment came at Oakwood (Hall) when I said I could never forgive her parents for what they did to her last year. She said it was cruel and nasty of me. No comment.

Oakwood Hall was packed out and the heat so intense that I felt grotty and tired towards the end. We danced a little but seemed to spend most of the night in conversation. Home by taxi at 2am. She is going to arrange the visit to London on June11. Let's hope I'll have a few bob to spend by then because I'm quite sick of having no money. Are the IMF on the phone perhaps. May be worth trying.

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Wednesday June 1, 1977

Phoned Carole this afternoon. She used some marvellous adjectives and in the space of a few minutes referred to me as 'chicken', 'lamb' and 'poppet'. We discussed going to London on June 11 but have no idea how to go about it. Grange's Coaches have gone bankrupt.

The only sad thing about going on the rampage on the continent with Martyn is Carole. I'm more attached to her now than I ever was before - even though things get somewhat stormy at times. Neither of us are particularly placid and we just fail to see eye to eye at times. This doesn't mean we think any less of each other.

On to a more unpleasant subject: Money. Barclaycard want £70 from me by June 6. They've brought my bloody credit payment day forward by three bloody weeks! No chance of paying so I'll just have to pay what I can manage and hope that some idiot in Stockton-on-Tees (or wherever Barclaycard hangs out) is endowed with a loving, gentle nature.

Think of poor Christine. The funeral is tomorrow and I only hope they both bear up. The agony must be incredible. However, I shan't bother her for a week or so because people like me must only be a hindrance at such a time as this.

Tony and Martyn came this evening and we went to the Hare & Hounds at Heaton. We had no money at all and we only drank half pints. Disgraceful, I know, especially in Jubilee week, but what else can be done?

Tony was a complete misery tonight for some reason. Home at about10 o'clock. To bed with Anne Boleyn by Marie Louise Bruce. A very interesting book and not one I'd normally read. The Tudor period is something I haven't touched upon since I was 14 or 15 years old. I'm quite ignorant on the subject.

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Tuesday May 31, 1977

CB: completely flattened

A horrible, sad day. Christine rang at about 10 and said she wouldn't probably be able to attend my Silver Jubilee party. She sounded so strange, and her voice was full of sadness. I asked why, and she told me her father had died yesterday evening. I was thoroughly lost for words and shocked. She cried a bit and I think I blurted something about going to see her straight from the YP and then put the phone down.

I last saw poor Mr Braithwaite on April 29 and to think I will never see him again leaves me cold. Death is a wicked thing. In CB's shoes I'd just fall to pieces.

Left work at 4.30. Marita picked me up on Wellington Street. I told her the news and questioned her as to whether it's quite right calling in on somebody so soon after a tragedy. She thinks it can well be a comfort and so I'm encouraged. Christine is ashen faced and quiet. She hasn't quite grasped what has happened yet. Mrs B was sat smoking and did not stop talking. In fact both of them were constantly chattering about irrelevant topics and only when a lull in the conversation occurred it became obvious that they're acutely distraught. Christine's eyes were full of tears. The poor things are completely flattened. God knows what they'll do. Mr B was always the life and soul of the party -  & even I, who barely knew him, thought of him as a kind, warm and tremendous character.

CB brought me home at 5.30 and the whole family offered some sympathy and comfort.

Although the evening was sunny and bright I felt cold & miserable.

I rang Carole at lunchtime but only her obnoxious boss was in. Said I'd ring back but never got round to it.

Tony rang at 8 to say he's finally received communication from Denise in Australia. _____________.

Just watched TV until midnight and thought constantly of poor Christine and her mother. Even Lynn, who'd been working at the Hare, reports that they've all heard the news. To bed with Anne Boleyn by Marie Louise Bruce.

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Monday May 30, 1977

Cloudy, but warm. A hectic day at the YP. Spent most of the day finding pics of all descendants of King George V and Queen Mary for Jack Stancomb's contribution to the Jubilee supplement. The chaos created by the Jubilee is quite amazing. The general public are going berserk and all think of little else at the moment.

Her Majesty at Covent Garden.

Don't get home until 5.45. Tony and Linda have finished - for good. Oh, not again! I have only just posted her birthday card too.  They'll have made up by the weekend. Or will they?

Rang Dave in Stockport. He'll be over on Friday evening. He's going to ring me on Thursday.

Saw the Queen, and many members of the royal family, on TV, at the Silver Jubilee Gala at the Royal Opera House Covent Garden. At midnight when she left in her large Rolls Royce the streets of London were packed with thousands of people waiting to catch a glimpse of Her Majesty. Jubilee fever. People are going insane with patriotism. The crowd was singing the National Anthem louder than I've heard it before. The Queen is perfection. Truly a legend. If this momentum grows with the years until the Golden Jubilee God knows what will happen.

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Saturday May 28, 1977

Don't get out of bed until 12 noon but when I do I feel better. Still slightly 'tingly' but better at least. I shudder at the sight of Lynn, clad only in a scanty bikini, laying prostrate on the lawn. 'Don't do it!' I yell from the window, but my pleas go unnoticed as the powerful suns beats down upon my poor, vulnerable sister. Will our roles of last night be reversed and will I be nursing my sister tonight? Time can only tell.

Peter the Alsatian.

Ring Tony and he and Martyn call at 12.30. To the Black Bull in Otley and then the Bowling Green. Very hot day. Feel it penetrating my shirt (the sun, that is). Move on to Otley Show which is something of a dead loss. Nothing to look at but hot dog stands and beer tents. Watch Alsatian dogs competing in some ridiculous charade, and unbelievably the winning dog was called 'Peter'. A dog called Peter?  Peter the iguana - yes, Peter the Tortoise, yes. Peter the budgie, yes. But Peter the Alsatian, no.

Lynn & Dave

Tony comes back for tea and at 8, or possibly 9, we go for Martyn and then to Skipton again. Not very enjoyable and it's back to the Rose & Crown for 10.30. Phil Hewitt and the clan were in - no comment.

Back to Tony's flat. Tony and Martyn fall asleep leaving me with a large glass of Scotch and 'Saturday Night at the Mill' on TV. Oh God, I think, what a bore. But Tony was soon awake and he took Martyn home and then came dashing back and took me to Il Trovatore, where we find Lynn and Dave B. Joined by Ruth and Linda. All back to the flat where we sat all night just talking. The girls left at 3am and Lynn and Dave at 4am. Tony went to bed at 6 and I sat in a chair dozing on and off until 11am. Am I perhaps insane? No doubt.

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