Saturday October 21, 1978

Sun rises 07:34 Sun sets 17:56

I came out of my coma at approximately 8 o'clock this morning. I thought, once again, that my end had come. These feelings of forthcoming doom, yeah of death, are recurring and on an increasing and alarming scale.

I took Jacq into town where she had to show her face at Dacre Son & Hartley and I got a bus home for 10 o'clock. Had a cup of tea with Mum and Dad and then fell into my wondrous bed until 3pm when I was awakened by Lynn on the phone wanting Alison's number. She wants to ring to discuss details of the wedding next week. I went back to bed until 5.

I emerged to have tea and within minutes Lynn and Dave arrived from Pool (in Wharfedale) and she was sobbing like a baby. The worst has happened. John P called off the wedding this morning. Alison will be distraught. Lynn had spoken to Mrs Dixon, who had only been told ten minutes before. The situation is terrible. _________________________.

I was out to Leeds again at 7:30 and Jacq and I went to the George where Haydn and his friends were gathered before heading to another party. Neither of us were in party spirits. Tiredness from last night and the sad news from Winchester just seem to have flattened the whole evening.

We went back to the Y.W.C.A and drank fruity punch and watched Iranians, Greeks, and other various nationalities leaping around to Boney M and the delights of 'Rasputin'.

At 2am and after a 5ft Persian homosexual had asked me if I wanted to dance with him, I sent Jacq to bed and proceeded to walk home. It was almost 5am, and drizzling slightly, when I fell through the door. Knackered.


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Friday October 20, 1978

Steve Sharp's leaving party this evening.

This afternoon Sarah, Carol J and I went to Parker's and then to Len's for a few lunchtime drinkies to get me in the right frame of mind for the festivities. The girls are refusing to go to Steve's orgy because the Eagle pub on North Street is something of a rough dive, they say. What does it matter?

At 6 o'clock John Mac took Alan Macgregor and I to the Eagle. Timothy Taylor's bitter was drained in vast quantities from the outset. I sat with Steve, Geoff Winter, Sue Tirbutt, Jill Armstrong, Fred (Manby) &c. I collected Jacq at 7:30 after fighting my way through the vast crowds in Leeds queueing to see Mr Revolta in 'Grease'. I am shocked that millions of apparently educated people should sink to such depths of incredible madness.

By 10:30 we were all quite pissed. At one point Steve used the back of my tie to write down a lengthy drinks order. Oh My God! It all looked very 'punk' anyway.

Jacq and I went with John MacM and a new lady YP reporter to Steve's place at Alwoodley where we drank ourselves stupid. I was violently sick on the manicured front lawn, and after a few gins I passed into a tranquil state of unconsciousness from which I didn't emerge until morn. In the meantime Jacq was mauled by Campbell Spray, and she sustained injuries to her left ankle on the dance floor.

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Thursday October 19, 1978

King John died seven hundred and sixty two years ago today, and blimey, Newark Castle, Notts, appears to have been the fortunate spot selected for this event.

Jacq and I had a meeting at the Ostlers.

Margaret and Jim tonight again. A very drunken occasion. For some daft reason Mama was drinking Pernod, and she and Jim were staggering by 11 o'clock. Pete joined us too, and he was worse for wear. A burst of dancing broke out in the dining room, but I declined Mama's frequent invitations to get up off my backside and 'groove it'.

Obviously, after the guests had departed in the small hours Mum was taken ill. Her reaction to the massive quantity of Pernod was to do what Lord Nelson always did when he was aboard HMS Victory. Yes, she threw up.

(I bet you thought I was going to say she found an eye patch and paced up and down the bridge saying "I see no ships. Hic" Alas, no).

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Wednesday October 18, 1978

St Luke

Laughter. Sarah and I went out at lunchtime and I posed for some ridiculous locket photographs in a booth at the bus station. Quite hideous. I have never been photogenic, but these are the ultimate. Mel Hulme, the EP photographer, also took pics of me in the YP car park to illustrate the article going in Postscript regarding my adventure on the Father's Day trip to Blackpool in June. Tony Green came over after lunch and took down the sordid story of my motorway excursion from Hell. I'm sure he thinks I am raving mad.

The new Pope is still alive, and I think well, which seems strange after the recent epidemic of papal stiffs over the past few months. Dr Cobweb, our revered Archbishop of Canterbury, is to attend the Pope's installation in Rome next Sunday. He was criticised last month for failing to attend Pope John Paul I's 'knees up' so I suppose he is making amends.

Lynn and Dave had a bump in the car on Queensway this morning. All the front of his car is smashed in but neither of them sustained injury. Lynn was slightly shook up. Dave estimates damage to the spitfire at £100, and the offending other driver also suffered in the entanglement.

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Tuesday October 17, 1978

A dull, uneventful day.

Sarah was wearing a locket today, but on inspection it had no photographs in it. I jokingly offered myself as a candidate to hang next to her breast for all eternity, and she leapt at the offer. We are going to do something about it tomorrow.

Mum and Dad went out to tea with Auntie Mabel. Lynn came home to see Susie and me. Sue was very quiet and Lynn commented on this. Lynn says she's only been married for six weeks and already it feels like a life time. Dave came at 8 straight from his game of Badminton. Joined by Peter at about 8:30 ~ he was in a hideous temper. Squabbling with Sue about nothing ~ almost out of habit. They act more like an established married couple than do Lynn & Dave. Oh, belt up. Michael. What do I know?

No contact with Jacq today. Watched 'Roots' on tv.

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Monday October 16, 1978

Full Moon 07:09 First Day of Tabernacles (Succoth)

There's speculation all day about the conclave of cardinals. The voting, they say, is proving more difficult this time and Rome has been shrouded beneath clouds of black smoke all day. However, the boys in velvet made a decision and at about 7:30 the news was telephoned to me by a frantic Ursula, who could find no photographs, and before the BBC news flash, and the residents of 58, Hawksworth Lane where the first people this side of Leeds to discover that the new Pope is a non~Italian for the first time since 1522. The new pontiff is in fact a Pole. In fact he's the Cardinal Archbishop of Kraków, whose name I cannot attempt to pronounce (Karol Józef Wojtyła). No doubt my Aunt Jadwega is skipping around in her massage parlour showering kisses upon the residents of Mapplerley, Notts. So, it's failure for poor Basil Hume, but amazing that the cardinals have gone for an outsider. Do our purple friends want to keep well in with the Eastern bloc now that Italy is on the verge of going completely red? Dad's immediate reaction was to ask if the new pope is a Bulgarian. On the news Angela Rippon told us that during the Second World War Pope John Paul II worked in a Nazi~occupied umbrella factory. (Unless you know about Georgei Markov you'll be in the dark about this little joke).

Watched a violent film starring Burt Reynolds. Mum says she objects to paying the tv licence to watch such rubbish, but this Mary Whitehouse attitude is quite wrong. I see nothing wrong with a spot of violence. Bed at 12:05 am.

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Sunday October 15, 1978

21st after Trinity

Woke up at about 11 ~ on the floor at Lawn Road. Had breakfast and watched the deluge outside from the window. Pissed it down. Dave slung a few records on his stereo and that that set the tone for the day. We almost froze to death too, until they lit the fire at about noon. I don't think they can afford the coal.

At 12:30 we ventured over in the rain to the Red Lion. The landlord their is probably the most miserable pub proprietor in Britain. Rude just isn't the word.

Lynn excelled herself at lunch. Pizzas, roast potatoes, peas, &c. She was beaming all day. She loves seeing us all. She told us she's been really homesick and close to tears at night time. Bless her.

In the afternoon I slept in an armchair. John, Maria and JPH came at 5:30. My nephew walked around the house with his arms clasped behind his back. He loved the journey home in the dark pointing at the 'man in the Moon'. I can already detect a Scottish accent. I must be imagining things.

At home watched 'Lillie Langtry'. It's too slow. Bed at midnight.

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Saturday October 14, 1978

Sun rises 07:22 Sun sets 18:10

Up at 7 o'clock and to work. Yes my first Saturday at the YP for about 4 years. Jacq and I had black coffee and toast. Got a bus at 8. In Leeds before 9. Not too busy at the YP but I had about ten phone calls on the subject of the steam train the 'Sir Nigel Gresley', which is taking hundreds of boring people on a jaunt round Yorkshire today. Why can't these bloody people just stay at home and watch 'Grandstand' or perhaps go down to their local and get thoroughly pissed instead of pestering poor, under~paid library workers?

The Times says Cardinal (Basil) Hume stands a very good chance of being elected Pope at tomorrow's conclave. It would be so great to have an Englishman at the helm in the Vatican, but I can't see them electing anyone but an Italian until at least the next century.

At 1:30 I met Jacq and we walked around town and had a few drinks in the Ostlers. Shouldn't take booze on an afternoon really.

At tea time John, Maria and JPH arrived. Scotland is clearly doing them some good.

Tonight Jacq, Sue, Pete, Mum, Dad, John, Maria, Lynn & Dave, and I went to the White Horse at Burley~in~Wharfedale to see Mum's cousin Dorothy, the landlady, who tells us she's leaving in June next year, if not before. Mum and Dad went off to meet Jim & Margaret at the Riversdale, and we had a crawl, going to the Queen's Arms and Malt Shovel. Afterwards we all had fish and chips at Lynn & Dave's. Our first all night session at Lawn Road. Jacq and I slept on the lounge floor.

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Friday October 13, 1978

Friday the Thirteenth. Nothing ghastly befell me. I had a pint of lager in the Central with Sarah at lunchtime. Poor Jilted John sat at the bar swilling gin and weeping on Dave Bruce's shoulder. He's taken Sarah's renunciation of his affections very badly. We drank our drink quickly and left.

This evening John (my prodigal brother) came at 6:30 and I told him he had to come out with us. Jacq got off a bus at 8:30, and the three of us paid a visit to the Drop where Mrs Hanson howled with laughter at Jacq and I. She's still getting over our visit there at the end of August with Trixie, Lynn and Dave. John looked very well. Maria was down at Carole's catching up on four or five weeks gossip.

From the Drop we went to the Fox and Hounds and then the Commercial, where Annie chatted merrily with us, especially John, whom she hasn't seen since he married. Anne, her niece, is coming over from America in November.

From the Commercial we had one at the Regent in Guiseley. We came back to Pine Tops for home~brew. We were all quite pissed up. Bed at 2.

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Thursday October 12, 1978

Feel shattered and quite depressed. I could have ignored the alarm clock and rolled over, but no I had to do my duty.

At 1pm I met Jacq and dragged her to the Ostlers for a few lagers. Saw a wondrous shirt in Irvine Sellers and the divine Miss Sate pulled out her Barclaycard and she lavished £9 on me. Of course I will repay her in full.

Back at the office I inspected my shirt only to discover with horror that it's the wrong size. So at 5 o'clock I was back in town and a swap was negotiated with some blank, dull assistant. Tortuous journey home and I fell through the door at 6.

Mum and Dad seemed to be quite normal. I saw no suitcases packed and waiting &c. Margaret, Jim and Julie came up at 9.

I didn't drink this evening. To bed at 12. Dad slept in his bed. The bathroom stood empty and forlorn tonight.

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Wednesday October 11, 1978

Day of Atonement {Yom Kippur}

I took a half day today. And yes it's a free and illicit one because our beloved leader is in a pub somewhere on the banks of Lake Windermere.

A wonderful, hot afternoon. I headed into the garden with my volume 'Hitler' tucked under my arm. For the biggest part of the afternoon I read and then launched an assault on the record player.

Today is Yom Kippur. Unsure, but believe it's the national kipper packers' holiday and fishmongers everywhere are happily heading to the seaside.

Tonight I hit the pillow at 12 o'clock but was awakened at 2 by the sound of Mum and Dad fighting (verbally). I lay listening to this buffoonery for almost an hour. Eventually, Dad grabbed a sleeping bag and headed for the bathroom and dropped down on the carpet. Mum followed him begging him to quit this ridiculous vigil. She came to my room and asked me to do something. What can you say to a grown man clinging with dear life to the bath taps? Sue was disturbed too. This farce dragged on half the night. Fools.

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