Monday September 26, 1977

Work was quite lazy. We made a birthday card for Michael Robertshaw, whose birthday it is today - his 21st. Eileen has been quite a misery since returning from honeymoon and today she smiled once or twice but is still quite off -hand with me. The reason for this I fail to understand but it must have something to do with Christine Byram's party. I have no intention of worrying about it anyway.

A Woody Allen film on the BBC tonight.'Play it Again, Sam'. Thoroughly hilarious. That actor is one of the funniest men alive I'm sure.

Mr Fishmonger's book.

Roddy Llewellyn.

Edith Blackwell has lent us a copy of 'Margaret: Princess without a cause' by Willie Fishsomethingorother. I fully intended purchasing it but after glancing over it I am so glad I haven't wasted the £5.50. It is just like the Helen Cathcart biography with a bit of extra spice gathered from the cheap Sunday newspapers and gossip from the European and American journals. Coincidentally the papers today have stories about Margaret in them. According to one, Roderic Victor Llewellyn (born October 9, 1947, son of Sir Harry Llewellyn, KB, and grandson of Sir David Llewellyn, 1st Baronet) is being groomed as a courtier with the intention of marrying him to Princess Margaret after her divorce next year. From his pedigree it's easy to see he is not the sort of low 'drop out' he's been made out to be. He is at least in Burke's  Peerage. Grandson on the paternal side of a baronet and on the maternal side of the 5th Baron de Saumarez. The young man no longer wears an ear ring and the t-shirt embossed with 'Roddy for PM' on the front has been replaced by pin striped suits and sober ties. It certainly seems he is being prepared for the trappings of royalty.

I retired to bed with Willie Fishmonger's boring, bitty book. I could do a better job and certainly get more of the facts right. Mr Fish 'n Chips in merely a profiteer, a sensationalist, a scoundrel. In fact I'm in two minds whether or not to go on reading it. 'Decline and Fall' by Mr Waugh is far more entertaining and certainly more of a bedtime book. Who knows what nightmares I'd be subjected to if I were to drift off to sleep after reading of the sexual exploits of Princess Margaret, which I am sure are based on nothing more than the idle chatter of ignorant people.

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Sunday September 25, 1977

16th after Trinity. John's 21st birthday. ________.WE ARE A UNITED FAMILY.

John: 21st birthday.

Decline and Fall.

Joy went back to Leeds last night and is going to visit Paul (with the handbag) in Halifax today. Jacqui slept here on the settee. We had breakfast at about 11.30 and John came up afterwards and we celebrated his birthday with a few bottles of wine, which saw us through until about 2. Dom(inic) Melville, whose birthday was yesterday, joined us. Jacqui demonstrated the art of tap dancing on our kitchen floor which was hilarious. Lynn loved every minute of it.

John (who had gone home at 12) returned at 2 in pouring rain to commandeer Pete and I for a spot of labouring work. We dismantled a porch and carried it from Netherfield Road to some remote part of Guiseley and helped to erect it there. It was his birthday present. (The labouring). I haven't given him a proper present yet. He quite understood. He called me a 'bastard'. The three of us did a lot of laughing. John was especially cheerful.

Peter and I returned to Pine Tops and had a late lunch, or tea. Jacqui had a pleasant chat with Mum and Lynn. We watched TV and I refused to leave my chair until after 8.

Joy returned at about 7.30. She hadn't been to Halifax and instead her lover came to Leeds. The poor soul has no sense of direction. They left at about 8.30 and I promised to go to Muswell Hill on October 8. Jacqui is a nice girl.

In bed tonight reading 'Decline and Fall' by Evelyn Waugh. A very good novel. In fact I was sat laughing in bed. Ho Ho Ho.

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Saturday September 24, 1977

Out of bed at 9.30. Yes, half past nine. I went to Guiseley for a large family-size tin of Eno's Liver Salts and a bottle of orange barley water. Home by 10 feeling much better for my walk. David and Dad were on the drive at work on the Toyota.

Jacq & Joy on Ilkley Moor.

I was commanded to an audience with Mama. It's the usual story. Complaints about things that go pop, bang, and what have you, in the night, or perhaps I should say early morning. She was quite adamant this time about orgies, and future orgies in hours of darkness, and so pained that I vow never again to bring a living soul home after a night out. Mama, whilst sipping her morning tea, threatened terrorist action. When angered I suppose she could make the Bader-Meinhoff gang resemble the Wombles. I went cold with fear.

I have an amusing tale to recount to you. Do you recall M___P___? The mama of Carole? Yes, now you do. Well, it seems she's been caught altering price tickets at Presto again. Terribly sad I know, but there it is. Anyhow, it came to pass that Susan was reading of this incident, and peering over the top of the local paper she said quite seriously to Mama: "My God. That woman must be a nymphomaniac".

Jacqui and Joy came at about 3.30 and we went to Ilkley Moor where I leapt around with a camera. We made spectacles of ourselves before moving to Bolton Abbey for further revelries. The girls are mad. Truly insane. They have never before been north of Luton and are impressed by the rolling greenery of Wharfedale, but I make a terrible guide.

They came back for tea with the family and then we ventured back to Leeds to get ready for John's party at Oakwood (Hall). We didn't leave Leeds until 9 o'clock and the girls and I went to the Old White Horse at Bingley with Sue and Peter. Tony and Martyn joined us. Tony said he wasn't going to Oakwood but on seeing Joy he changed his mind. We got to Oakwood for about 10.30. John and Maria came with Chris and Pete M and Steve Hudson. Joy pinched John for a dance. Jacq and I danced all night. Well, until 2. _______.


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Friday September 23, 1977

Eileen showed me an article in that glorious relic 'Woman's Own' which I found hilarious. It states that the Royal Family is becoming far too large, the biggest one in fact since Victoria's day. Laugh at the thought that by the year 2000 the south of England will be overrun by minute Queen Mothers, devouring and devastating crops and making a general nuisance of themselves. _______.

Royal Family: too large.

Burdened with a ghastly hangover today. I'm home completely shattered at the usual hour and spend the time until 9 o'clock readying myself for Angela (Singer's) party. Jacqui phoned at 9.15 and by 10.15 we were teamed up outside the Yorkshire Post and we made our way to Headingley.

I loathe going to parties stone cold sober, but I soon remedied that. It was rewarding watching bleary eyed journalists eyeing up Jacqui and Joy. Peter Fearon attempted to woo Joy with his Fleet Street routine which failed brilliantly. She then went off to dance with a Daily Express man. I became quite drunk.

Carol Johnson and Roger Ratcliffe arrived at the same time, but not together. The girls thoroughly enjoyed themselves and were very sociable. Did I do a tango with Brenda Rankin? I hope not.

Joy brought me home and I foolishly had them in for coffee, giggles and screams, slamming doors and other loud robust noises. Naturally, Mama was awakened by the commotion but made no assault on us downstairs, luckily. They set off back for the depths of Roundhay at some unbelievable hour and I departed to my chambers for a few hours shut-eye. A very pleasant party. Angela Singer deserves to be the first woman editor of a national newspaper.

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Thursday September 22, 1977

John's official birthday party with his Mummy and Daddy and brothers and sisters. He came up at 8.30. ______. The six of us, plus David and Peter, went to the Commercial where we were joined by Chris Ratcliffe ________. At 10.30 I went out with John and asked him to come back home with us for a few drinks, but he declined. _______. He said he and Maria are going to Oakwood Hall on Saturday and I said I'd go along too. Jacqui will be in Yorkshire to help me 'freak out' in true style.

Later, Dave and I clowned around with gladioli (dead ones at that) and I played with something called a shuttle that Mum had acquired from (Abraham) Moon's Mill.

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Wednesday September 21, 1977

The autumn equinox, I believe. Yes folks, with a rendering of 'Autumn Leaves' I now bid farewell to you in order to roast my chestnuts on my little garden bonfire. Oh, how I love this time of year!  The browns! The golds! The burnt yellows! No.To be honest I can take it or leave it.

An autumn without a good old general election is just not on. It's like having peaches without cream or whisky without American Dry Ginger and lots of ice. I'm sure that dear Mrs Thatcher thinks along these lines too. To see the beloved leader of the only true political party, ballot papers in hand, coming into focus through a typically misty autumn dawn would be a sight to cherish. But alas, the sorrowing nation must now wait until this gorgeous season is once again upon us before the Sainted Margaret - her hair burnished with the magnificent hue of autumn leaves - rides into Parliament as our prime minister.

Otherwise a normal day the YP and with little play.

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Tuesday September 20, 1977

Martyn phoned. We talked about Stockport, but he disagreed with everything I said. He made some comments about Carol J being a 'nice girl'. ________. Tony rang too to talk about the Jacqui/Joy visit. He suggested picking up the girls at Leeds City Station but I told him they were coming up by car.

Jacqui phoned at lunchtime to say they are staying at Elmete Lane, Roundhay, from about 9pm on Friday. They are going to phone me when they arrive and I will meet them and take them on to Angela Singer's party at Headingley. Chris phoned for John Grady's number.

John came to see us for a few minutes. We are going out on Thursday, first for a few drinks with Mum & Dad and then on to a disco with Sue, Pete, Lynn and Dave.

I made one of my irregular visits to Hough the denist who just glanced at my teeth and told me to come back at the end of October. What a wasted journey.Feeling quite energetic I walked from Rawdon to Guiseley where John (or is it Tim?) Mounsey (of Oakwood Hall fame) picked me up and brought me half way up Hillway. He's a good laugh and although we've lived near each other all these years I hardly know him.

Fred Mulley slumbering ...

Saw in one of the papers that the Defence minister, Fred Mulley, is probably going to be replaced following the embarrassing but hilarious incident at the Silver Jubilee RAF display at Finningley when he dropped off to sleep in a chair next to Her Majesty the Queen, who was not amused.

Sat and ate Susan's home made toffee this evening laughing at Magnus Magnusson on 'Mastermind'. One of the Sunday papers carried an article saying that Diana Dors is suing a magazine over allegations that twenty years ago she played strip poker with Mr Magnusson and Bernard Levin. Very improbable I know and like a Monty Python sketch, but I bet it's true. Something as ridiculous as that must have some truth in it.

Diana Dors, speaking in the Sunday People after Elvis bit the dust referred to Presley as her 'SVENGALI'. That was a new word to me. Am I illiterate?

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