Saturday June 25, 1977

With Tony and Martyn to Bradford this morning. Martyn got a new pair of jeans and a T-shirt for Ibiza. I'm envious because not two pennies do I possess. Tony is in a very similar situation too.

We then took Martyn to Cleckheaton Golf Course and then went on to Otley to browse around - generally looking for old friends and acquaintances on whom to impose ourselves. Saw Jane (of Peter Mather fame, see Diary Sept 3-4, 1976) on Otley market and she's quite chatty. I'm not all that impressed with her though.

Back to the flat for tea. Read the Daily Express, watched Wimbledon and the Muppet Show and then played some ancient records in Tony's collection. I taped a batch of them so that we can have a sing-along in the car.

Harrogate Arms.

Martyn came at 8.30 and we went out a 9. First to Pool-in-Wharfedale and then to the Harrogate Arms. At the latter Carole is in the lounge with Fogarty and did her best to hide when we walked in. I didn't even spot her but Tony's eye fell on her straight away. I could laugh really. When I was at the bar she went over to chat with the boys and when I approached them laden with glasses she ducked away back to Peter. The childish, stupid bitch. Tony told her to go away and asked her to ring him tomorrow.

Back to the flat where I got horribly drunk and vomited. A concoction of brandy and whisky. Val came to see Tony and they took Martyn home at 1.30. I sat in a chair by candlelight until dawn.

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Friday June 24, 1977

Met Dave B at 1 o'clock and went to Parker's (wine bar) where we see Delia, Sarah, Marilyn and Barbara Wheeler. We had a couple of drinks. Dave chats with Stephanie Ferguson who is in with Linda Shaw and Jo, the editor's 'fallen secretary', who leaves this afternoon.

Duchess: pregnant at 44.

Sarah and I went back to the office at 2 to relieve Carol J who also went over to Parker's to annoy Jo, and no doubt get pissed up. I intended having a quiet afternoon but the phone rang and Sarah spoke to the York Office who want everything we've got on the Duchess of Kent. They say she's pregnant. I just do not believe it. The woman is 44 years-old. Speak to the news desk and yes it is confirmed. Three royal babies before next February. Quite startling really but great news to the ears of one who relishes the spread of the Royal House of Windsor.

Tony returned from the wilds of Hampshire today. He and Martyn came up tonight and the three of us went off to the Bod. Sue (WH Smith of Bradford Sue), Michelle and Co. are in the pub but I'm not too communicative. Michelle tells me she is going to Morocco tomorrow. I just smile and say "nice" but really think going to such a place can only be a mistake. She could end up in the harem of King Hassan. Poor child, she is so naive too.

Tony is fit and cheerful. Pete M, Chris and Steve Hudson came in at 10.30. We left at 11.

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Thursday June 23, 1977

The diaries of John Evelyn have been sold for a tremendous (I keep using that word) sum at Christie's or Sotheby's yesterday. Are you considering put these volumes under the hammer? You might as well.

The 'flying pickets': Grunwick Dispute

A hot day but the Yorkshire Post prevents my becoming involved in it or participating in any of its pleasures. Kathleen was infuriating.

Home at 5 for sandwiches on the lawn with Mama and Papa. Tony rang at 7.30 from deepest Hertfordshire - or wherever Bishop Thingy is. He is back among us tomorrow. It was good to hear him.

Martyn is playing golf somewhere and nothing was heard from him all night.

On the news saw the 'flying pickets' in the Grunwick Dispute. (Please refer to your history books, particularly the Dictionary of National Biography and the illustrious paragraph on Sir Arthur Scargill, KG, NUM, , &c). Someone at home asked what Mr Rees, our beloved Home Secretary, is doing about all the bother and Lynn quipped: "Oh Mrs Rees doesn't like Merlyn watching all this violence on the television and so she hasn't told him about it." Brilliant. No doubt silly Meryln goes to bed when Childrens' Hour finishes. Roll on Margaret Thatcher.

To bed at 11.30 after another squabble with Mama about my financial situation.

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Wednesday June 22, 1977

Phoned Carole and talked about very little. Not fraternising with her until next week and I can't say I'm bothered. Not exactly like Anthony and Cleopatra are we?

Tony and Cleo.

The poor dear Queen is in Wales on her jubilee tour of that boring pin-prick of a principality.

John and JPH came at tea time and we all sat on the lawn. He (JPH that is) has picked up quite a few new tricks and now sings every time his grandpapa rattles his key ring.

Lynn and David went to Salvo's (that's young David, not old David). They came home half sozzled with tales of wonderment about the size of the pizzas consumed. I became quite hungry at the thought of it.

My great-grandmother Rella Wilson was born 122 years ago today and my grandmother, Ruth Ellen Rhodes died 18 years ago today.

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Tuesday June 21, 1977

Out with Martyn, Susan and Peter to the Hare and Hounds. Lynn is dishing out the ale. Judith and Kathryn came in and I said I'd been off the scene for 'financial reasons'. Judith asked: 'Have you forgiven the manager yet?' I said I most certainly have not. From the County Mortuary we went to the Shoulder of Mutton where we were joined by Karen Cole, Julie Webster and lovers. Do not particularly like the Shoulder but the beer's wet at least. Down to the fish and chip shop where we satisfied our hunger on innocent haddock. We always have a nice time, Sue, Pete, Martyn and me. No one likes ________and Peter seems to have a pathological hatred of him. ______.

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Monday June 20, 1977

Shagged out after the riotous weekend on the booze.  Work was thoroughly boring and took immense willpower just to stop my eyes clamping together permanently.

A night in front of the television brought the time round to midnight and I was taken to the intensive car unit of a local hospital where the last rites were administered by Cardinal Hume.

If the remainder of the diary is blank please don't be surprised because I'm not sure whether they have the facilities to keep a journal where I'm going.

It's summer madness, folks.

Sunday June 19, 1977

2nd after Trinity.  The Evening Post Father's Day Trip to Blackpool with all the consequences that go with it.

Lazenby: music hall star.

Martyn, of course joined the team and the both of us were with Pete Lazenby for most of the day. We started drinking on the coach at about 9.30am and until 11pm it was really the only source of recreation.  For a couple of hours in the afternoon when the pubs closed to re-stock their shelves we went wild on the Golden Mile - clad in our eccentric head-gear as is the tradition on the annual Father's Day excursion.

Why is it that respectable old ladies will go to great lengths just to kiss the proud, upstanding wearer of a top hat?  They do, anyway.

The weather was exceptional. Warm and sunny. We couldn't participate in the ritual 'football of the beach' because for the first time in living memory, the tide was, as they say, in.

By 7.30 we were back at the Albion in Skipton for refreshment and Peter's cabaret appearance. The boy excelled himself too. His song about the royal family set to the tune of 'In an English Country Garden' received my boos and hisses and tremendous applause was given to his 'Albert and the Lion'. He'd make a brilliant music hall star. Home by 11.30 and only slightly pissed which cannot be said for the majority of merry trippers. No indeed.

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