Tuesday June 19, 1979

_. Mum & Dad's Silver wedding day dawned to brilliant blazing sunshine. Laid, as I was, on the settee, I could hear the chinking of glasses and slurping of champagne at 9am. What a good start.

It was Alison who provided the Moet & Chandon and some silver goblets to boot. Breakfasted with the happy couple and Annie and Arthur, who are terrible bores. Their sole topic of conversation is centred upon Barry, their son and heir, and after several hours it becomes infuriating. We made for the garden and lounged until noon.

Dave G phoned to say he has eventually secured a night off and would be arriving at about 3. To the Commercial with Mum, Dad, Annie, Arthur and Ally, who managed to secure a half-day. Not a particularly exciting session. Arthur Greenhoff is the image of the bottom slapping dwarf on the Benny Hill Show. All the women naturally think that he, Arthur, is a dirty old man. Home at 2 to sprawl upon the lawn. Dave arrived with very sad news. His cat is dead. Dad, an expert on matters feline, says the peculiarity of cats is that they are very hardy creatures, but at the hint of a virus - bang - they're off.

Out at 7pm to the Yorkshire Rose. About thirty couples converged for the nostalgic trip down memory lane. I cannot possibly mention them all. Uncle Arnold and dear Auntie Janet, Hilda, Tony, Mabel, Marlene and Frank, my great-aunt Annie Kirk, Pauline Walker (Mum's large and immoral bridesmaid) the Nasons, and a host of others. I became horribly drunk and made a spectacle of myself dancing flamenco style with the Yul Brynner-like barmaid. Jim Nason was pulling Uncle Tony's leg about Jeremy Thorpe and the Liberal slaughter.

Alison shunned me like the plague. In fact she became very cold and off-putting. I ended the evening cuddling Auntie Hilda.

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