Thursday September 21, 1978

St Matthew

Pay day but all the money is gone before the packet has been open for ten minutes. I met Jacq at 1pm and we went shopping for a present for John, who is 22 on Monday. I bought him a pair of tartan socks from Schofield's, and a ridiculous, nauseating birthday card. Mum's wrapping all the gifts in one big parcel and despatching it to Stranraer in the morning.

Tonight I went to the Shoulder of Mutton, picked up on the way by Pete N with Dave W, Chippy and Gus. Dave says I look like Phil Lynott of 'Thin Lizzy' fame. Gus pokes fun at my woolly tie. Chippy makes his usual disgusting remarks. A sensational evening in the pub. At one point we had 25 pints of beer on the table because we purchased four rounds in one go because of the crowding and shortage of glasses.

Oakwood Hall wasn't enjoyable. I felt over nostalgic about the place. It was even worse when I wandered into the garden, because it reminded me of my life with Carole, and that seems such a long time ago. I put all this wallowing down to the fact I was too pissed up. Unhealthy really. Dave W picked up a nurse from Halifax, and Pete was chatting up a 15 year~old blond piece. I don't like to see him flirting with another woman when he's supposed to be attached to my sister.

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Wednesday September 20, 1978

One day when a National Front dictatorship rules over these islands led by a short, enfeebled geezer with a Charlie Chaplin moustache, I only hope I am a tax exile in Zurich, or somewhere. I simply don't like the idea. I do suppose it's up to people like me to put a stop to this growth of fascism before it gets out of hand because looking at the Germany of the 1920s the masses didn't see the danger in Mr Hitler. Pete Lazenby is now a leading activist in the Anti-Nazi League, and he is busy recruiting all the time, but I fear that his legions are made up of blood~red communists, who'd like nothing better than to see the likes of the Hon Mrs Angus Ogilvy, and her more important relatives, hanging by their necks from the turrets of Tower Bridge. It's always from one extreme to the other, don't you think?

Retired to bed with Adolf Hitler and these gloomy thoughts at 10:30.

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Tuesday September 19, 1978

Didn't phone Jacq today. Jilted John (Mac) asked if Jacq and I would like to accompany him to see the Dortmund Opera in Leeds next week. I was slightly taken aback. ____________. But at £6 a ticket!

Saw Alex Haley's 'Roots' tonight and retired to bed with John Toland's 'Adolf Hitler' which I left at Trixie's in April or May.

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Monday September 18, 1978

The Prince of Wales won't be too pleased if he's read in today's Times a proposal that the Queen should abdicate in 2002 (the year of her 50th anniversary on the throne) in favour of a youthful grandson! So by passing Charles in the succession. Perhaps Mr Rees-Mogg should be castrated for allowing this to pollute his newspaper.

Dave L, back for two days from Hockley Heath, phoned and asked if I'd like to accompany him and Christine to the pub tonight. I was thinking CB was still at the Italian Grand Prix, but obviously not. I phoned Jacq and asked if she'd like to come too as an alternative to doing her washing and she immediately said yes. I told her I am penniless but she says she has £6 and so we'll be able to scrape through without embarrassment.

Dave came up at 7:45 and we collected Jacq at the bus stop and then went for Christine in Horsforth. Our first port of call was the Old Ball, which is unbearable. The bar there reminds me of the school dining hall at Fieldhead. From the Old Ball we tormented the inmates of the Emmott Arms, and then we shot off to Pool~in~Wharfedale and the Half Moon._____________________________________. However, it was so good to see Dave & Christine.


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Sunday September 17, 1978

17th after Trinity

Out of bed at 11. Jacq and I kept Mum awake in the small hours of the morning playing records. Sue and Pete announce they are going to Cracoe near Skipton for lunch and they invited Jacq and I to join them at the Devonshire Arms. The four of us piled into Pete's car and headed for the Dales.

At Cracoe Jacq and I only had 2 drinks and no food due to gross financial embarrassment and we watched Sue and Pete eat prawn sandwiches and chips. From here we left for Malham but Pete announced he was short of fuel, and we were compelled to stop off at Foxup, where his cousin farms, to snatch petrol. The smell of the roast dinner at Foxup Farm almost drove me mad.

Back home at 5 we had fish and chips and half an hour later Mum, Dad, Jim, Margaret and Julie left to collect Lynn and Dave from East Midlands Airport. Sue and Pete went down to his house, and Jacq and I watched the telly. Lynn, Dave and party returned at 11. They looked brown, happy and well.

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Saturday September 16, 1978

Full Moon 20:01 Sun rises 06:36 Sun sets 19:14

Jacq came at 8 with a parcel for me from Trixie consisting of ties, more paints, my forgotten Hitler volume, paint brushes and Japanese palet knives from Pete Holroyd's collection. The bundle must have rushed her a couple of quid in the post.

I'm in low spirits with a feeling of impending disaster hanging over me. One of Jacq's shoes fell apart at the bottom of the lane and I ran all the way home for a pair from Sue's collection. Knackered, sweaty and broncil by 9:30.

We made our way to the Crown at Yeadon in the drizzle and shit and propped up the bar there until 11. Chippy, Gus, Johnny and others came in. I hailed 'Hullo' to Chippy and he told me to 'fuck off' which I can only put down to the episode of the buggered spectacles. At 11 we staggered to Guiseley. Jacq was wearing all my clothes because she felt cold.

We bumped into Jim and Margaret and they took us back to 58, Fieldhead Road for a few beers. Margaret attempted to persuade the budgie to do his Churchill impersonation but Joey (as he's affectionately know) refused to fight them on the beaches, and said nowt.

Back at Pine Tops for 12:30. Jacq and I sat until 4:30.

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Friday September 15, 1978

To the Odeon at Leeds with Jacq at 8pm to see Mel Brook's 'High Anxiety'. Very funny. Jacq didn't laugh quite as loudly as I did. In places I found myself roaring with laughter, but quite alone. Rather like giggling in Westminster Abbey.

Home at 11 after having a quick drink at the Wayfinder, which is full of potential Ripper victims and greasy haired males resembling the Kray Twins and other leaders of organised crime. I must make a note to avoid this pub in future.

Felt buggered. Collapsed in a chair and slept for half an hour on my arrival home.

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