_. Chippy phoned this morning to make sure I was joining the party tonight. After the usual abuse he was gone but within minutes he phoned back to see whether I could escape tomorrow afternoon for a session at the Junction in Otley. I told him no because Kathleen is off tomorrow for her parents Ruby wedding anniversary, and of course Carol Johnson has been off work all week with mumps.
Met Jacq at lunchtime at Jacomelli's and we joked about the revolting illness that is mumps. We did speculate that it would be my luck to catch the disease, and that I'll be cycling home quite innocently one night and a loud crash and bang will herald my balls falling off into my socks.
Am I correct in thinking that mumps make big boys sterile, or impotent, or something? We did laugh about this.
Jacq tells me that Trixie's new boyfriend, 'John the Lorry', from Manchester, is only 28 years old! Trixie will be 51 in May. Good luck to her, anyway. The poor woman has had an unfortunate life.
Tonight: out with Pete to the White Cross. Mick Lynch was working in the bar ______________________.
Carole came in with Jill and Naomi but they fled to the Fox to avoid me. My presence was an embarrassment to her with Mick Lynch under the same roof. Joined by Chippy, Dave W, Mick and one or two others whose names escape me. I was quite pissed.
On to Oakwood Hall . Sarah was nowhere to be found. Home at 2am. It is tradition for me to leap on to Chippy's car as he drives away and I did this as ususal with Starsky & Hutch gusto. However, he broke with tradition, and gathered speed and rocketed down the lane with me hanging on the roof clutching the windscreen wipers and holding on for dear life. Gradually I began to slide down the windscreen and onto the car bonnet and Chippy took a sharp turn onto Westgate at which I was thrown from the vehicle and into the road. I cut my hand, but worst of all I tore a hole in the knee of my new trousers. Ruined they were, and I must have paid £15 for them.
-=-
20170228
Wednesday March 21, 1979
_. Awoke in a state of turmoil. Chaos reigned. Struggled to the YP and attempted to look sensible and alert without much success.
Christine phoned and played hell about me not sending her a birthday card. My excuse, and a real one, was that I had expected to see her in the Fox last Friday and so I hadn't bothered posting. She took it very well and I told her I'd see her later in the week. She told me she has taken up with a young man from Hawksworth, the name of whom escapes me. The chap says he will take her to America later in the year to visit his mother who has unfortunately lost her reason and married an American. Whether she will go or not remains to be seen. CB is an absolute Goddess and I for one will always look upon her as Horsforth's answer to Helen of Troy.
-=-
Christine phoned and played hell about me not sending her a birthday card. My excuse, and a real one, was that I had expected to see her in the Fox last Friday and so I hadn't bothered posting. She took it very well and I told her I'd see her later in the week. She told me she has taken up with a young man from Hawksworth, the name of whom escapes me. The chap says he will take her to America later in the year to visit his mother who has unfortunately lost her reason and married an American. Whether she will go or not remains to be seen. CB is an absolute Goddess and I for one will always look upon her as Horsforth's answer to Helen of Troy.
-=-
Tuesday March 20, 1979
_. Party at Pine Tops. Arrived home from work and found Lynn, Mum, Dad, Peter & Sue singing and dancing in the dining room. Within minutes I was sipping a gin and orange and playing at being a disc jockey.
Dave B came straight from work and Mum, enthusiastic as ever, attacked him, tearing the buttons off his shirt and stuffing a rolled up newspaper down his trousers. I suspect he had print from the Daily Telegraph all over his underpants. They had all been out to the Woolpack at lunchtime and Lynn hadn't even bothered going back to work. My mother is a terrible influence.
Jim and Margaret were telephoned and they arrived within minutes. Sue and Pete went to Flashman's for dinner. Lynn and Mum were soon on black coffee, but we had to send out for more whisky when the supplies became dangerously low. Sue & Pete were back at 11 and he proceeded to vomit as he stepped through the door. Dining out when riddled with gastroenteritis is hardly a wise move. But appearances have to be kept up on these anniversaries haven't they?
Bed at some hideous hour after cleaning up the debris for poor mother. My head feels like a Louis XIV commode.
-=-
Dave B came straight from work and Mum, enthusiastic as ever, attacked him, tearing the buttons off his shirt and stuffing a rolled up newspaper down his trousers. I suspect he had print from the Daily Telegraph all over his underpants. They had all been out to the Woolpack at lunchtime and Lynn hadn't even bothered going back to work. My mother is a terrible influence.
Jim and Margaret were telephoned and they arrived within minutes. Sue and Pete went to Flashman's for dinner. Lynn and Mum were soon on black coffee, but we had to send out for more whisky when the supplies became dangerously low. Sue & Pete were back at 11 and he proceeded to vomit as he stepped through the door. Dining out when riddled with gastroenteritis is hardly a wise move. But appearances have to be kept up on these anniversaries haven't they?
Bed at some hideous hour after cleaning up the debris for poor mother. My head feels like a Louis XIV commode.
-=-
Monday March 19, 1979
_. Thaw today. Met Sue & Pete in Guiseley at 5 o'clock. He tells me he is suffering from gastroenteritis - and it's the day before his 21st birthday. One could have been cruel and asked whether his celebrations were going to go with a blast, but it wouldn't be very tasteful.
Mum and Dad were out all day (and night) and when I departed to my chambers at 11:35pm - still no sign of them. I think they have been up to Grassington.
Dave phoned from Stockport asking if I want to go there for the weekend. I don't think I can go because of the sudden glut of parties. One of Pete & Chippy's old pals is throwing a melé on Friday, and on Saturday Peter is expected to provide some sort of extravaganza for his birthday.
Saw "Fawlty Towers" followed by Dame Edna Everage ~ Superstar and Housewife, which was a good laugh, but not everyone's cup of tea. Sue and Pete hated it. They deserted me at 10:30.
Richard Beckinsale, the young actor, has died aged 31.
-=-
Mum and Dad were out all day (and night) and when I departed to my chambers at 11:35pm - still no sign of them. I think they have been up to Grassington.
Dave phoned from Stockport asking if I want to go there for the weekend. I don't think I can go because of the sudden glut of parties. One of Pete & Chippy's old pals is throwing a melé on Friday, and on Saturday Peter is expected to provide some sort of extravaganza for his birthday.
Saw "Fawlty Towers" followed by Dame Edna Everage ~ Superstar and Housewife, which was a good laugh, but not everyone's cup of tea. Sue and Pete hated it. They deserted me at 10:30.
Richard Beckinsale, the young actor, has died aged 31.
-=-
20170227
Sunday March 18, 1979
_. 3rd Sunday in Lent.
Over my toast and marmalade I see in the sticky Sunday Express that all is not dead between the Prince of Wales and my favourite lady, Davina Mary Sheffield., now 28. It would appear she has been to Balmoral recently and is currently 'down under' where she is to meet HRH next week on some quiet, camera-free wallaby ranch. Oh, the excitement of it all. Come on, you two!
At lunch went with Mum, Dad, Sue & Peter to the Hare & Hounds and then the White Cross. Something of a liquid luncheon. Saw Carole who was with Mick Lynch and Chris Blades. Mum commented that Carole always manages to pick good looking ones, but adds that they 'are never any good'. This says a lot for me, doesn't it?
Back home at 3 in the snow for a miserable salad. Watched a Cary Grant film on the telly. But by 7 we were half starved and went back to the Hare for something more substantial. Steak, roast potatoes, &c. Can't recall the last time I dined in a restaurant with Mum & Dad - except for the Coniston of course, which can hardly be called a restaurant.
-=-
Over my toast and marmalade I see in the sticky Sunday Express that all is not dead between the Prince of Wales and my favourite lady, Davina Mary Sheffield., now 28. It would appear she has been to Balmoral recently and is currently 'down under' where she is to meet HRH next week on some quiet, camera-free wallaby ranch. Oh, the excitement of it all. Come on, you two!
At lunch went with Mum, Dad, Sue & Peter to the Hare & Hounds and then the White Cross. Something of a liquid luncheon. Saw Carole who was with Mick Lynch and Chris Blades. Mum commented that Carole always manages to pick good looking ones, but adds that they 'are never any good'. This says a lot for me, doesn't it?
Back home at 3 in the snow for a miserable salad. Watched a Cary Grant film on the telly. But by 7 we were half starved and went back to the Hare for something more substantial. Steak, roast potatoes, &c. Can't recall the last time I dined in a restaurant with Mum & Dad - except for the Coniston of course, which can hardly be called a restaurant.
-=-
Saturday March 17, 1979
_. St. Patrick's Day
Thick snow. British Summer time begins. Peter arrived after lunch but he was taken ill and vomited everywhere. We decided he was too sick to go home & so he occupied Susan's bed and muggins here gave his bed to his sister, and was reduced to spending the night on the sitting room settee.
Just watched TV tonight. The inactivity was like a dream after weeks of endless toil at Bill North's runny, dripping maisonette. Anyway, I'm now £50 better off, but death might not be all that far away because I failed to post Christine a birthday card for the first time ever. This recent breakdown in communications has reached a tragic, unexpected low. We'll be recalling diplomatic legations before long.
-=-
Thick snow. British Summer time begins. Peter arrived after lunch but he was taken ill and vomited everywhere. We decided he was too sick to go home & so he occupied Susan's bed and muggins here gave his bed to his sister, and was reduced to spending the night on the sitting room settee.
Just watched TV tonight. The inactivity was like a dream after weeks of endless toil at Bill North's runny, dripping maisonette. Anyway, I'm now £50 better off, but death might not be all that far away because I failed to post Christine a birthday card for the first time ever. This recent breakdown in communications has reached a tragic, unexpected low. We'll be recalling diplomatic legations before long.
-=-
Friday March 16, 1979
_. More snow today. At 5pm I battled across Leeds to complete Bill North's major operation. Was all cleaned up in a couple of hours and we parted on speaking terms, and I had all on carrying the wads of cash down the stairs. I almost danced my way to Kirkstall because the weight of responsibility had been lifted from my shoulders like a cloud of low depression being wiped from the BBC weather chart.
Bill had kept his revolting highly effeminate hands to himself throughout the refurbishment and he had avoided propositioning me for sexual favours, or offering me cash to flash my y-fronts, or the contents thereof. What an incredibly boring existence he leads. He told me that he is very often in bed at 9:30pm after the 'Archers' and various other ghastly Radio 4 programmes. By the look of things his boyfriends must be few, or far between.
Home in a snow-drift and devour a rotten dinner with no enthusiasm whatsoever. Ice-skating is on the tv. How exciting, eh? Bed at midnight. Exhausted.
-=-
Bill had kept his revolting highly effeminate hands to himself throughout the refurbishment and he had avoided propositioning me for sexual favours, or offering me cash to flash my y-fronts, or the contents thereof. What an incredibly boring existence he leads. He told me that he is very often in bed at 9:30pm after the 'Archers' and various other ghastly Radio 4 programmes. By the look of things his boyfriends must be few, or far between.
Home in a snow-drift and devour a rotten dinner with no enthusiasm whatsoever. Ice-skating is on the tv. How exciting, eh? Bed at midnight. Exhausted.
-=-
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