Showing posts with label delia collis. Show all posts
Showing posts with label delia collis. Show all posts

20200311

Friday September 21, 1979

_. To the YP from Burley wearing the clothes I'd been out in last night. Sarah has invited me to a function at Delia's on Sunday October 7th. I told her that if Bill North is attending then I will be wearing asbestos underpants and be armed with a pair of bull-castrating shears. Horrid, but necessary.

Tonight: a gathering at Club Street attended by Mum, Dad, Sue, Peter, Lynn, Dave, Jim, Margaret and Julie N. We sat in deck chairs due to the lack of furniture. Lynn told me that the week before her miscarriage she had a terrible experience in a light aircraft which almost crashed when the pilot went to pieces in a panic attack. She sat there as he screamed and flapped and told her they were going to die. _______. Peter and Jim played cards for vast sums of money, and this drew most of the attention. We danced until almost 5am and had to push David's car out of Club Street. Lynn fell and banged her head on the road. I stayed the night.

-=-


20190614

Thursday August 16, 1979

_. Pisses down with rain all day. I feel atrocious, and not particularly with drink. Delia phoned to say how distraught she is about the Bill North groping saga. She says the man will never darken her doorstep again. As if.

Out again with Ally. First to the Cow & Calf and then the Rose and Crown in Ilkley. On to Oakwood. Better than last week. We didn't get quite so pissed. I sloshed cider everywhere but I soon dried out on the dance floor.

Tonight my thoughts turned to Christine and the many good times we shared at Oakwood Hall. Married! I simply refuse to believe it.

-=-

20170314

Monday April 9, 1979

_. It poured down from dawn till dusk. Whatever became of the long, warm Spring which was forecast in the delightful EP?

Carol J paid me £10 for doing the bathroom and asked me whether I would possibly do the wall behind the door in that same, auspicious room. I leapt at the chance. It will only take me ten minutes.

Delia phoned and was most revealing. She told me she had argued with Sarah late last week at the cruel way S had sent me to Coventry for giving her that "frightful cold". She told Sarah to pull herself together and start being nice to me once again. She can be a horrid, precocious child at times. I'd love to be given the opportunity to really sort her out. In a brutal, forceful Clint Eastwood sort of way.

The general election campaign is already in full swing. A month of codswallop and blatant lies from our beloved pin-striped PM is something I can do without. Jim Callaghan really should do the honourable thing and shoot himself. It would be far better to go now than to wait until May 3 and suffer the same fate as King Charles I, Mr Hoveyda, the former Jamaican premier and poor Zulfikar Ali Bhutto, who died by hanging last week simply because he was the leader of a defeated party. Margaret Hilda [Thatcher] seems to have the right idea. She says she is ignoring the campaign for a while because she doesn't want to bore the pants off Joe Electorate. Hoe right and clever of the sainted Margaret.

To bed at 1:12am.

-=-

20170220

Wednesday March 7, 1979

_. Didn't get to bed until 4 this morning - so I don't feel like dancing to Victor Silvester.

Delia came over for me at 9am and we went over to Headingley and Bill North's flat. To our horror, he's lurking around in his dressing gown, or robe, sneezing and coughing as though at death's door. We expected the place to be deserted, but he announces that he has taken the week off and will be 'hanging around' whilst I am attempting to dollop paint all over the walls. Delia was very concerned at the prospect of my being closeted up with Bill for the day. We went through some amateur dramatics on the corridor near the lift, and when I took leave of her she disappeared through the floor wailing like a banshee.

I rubbed down the doors, painted the walls and finished for the day at about 6:30. Knackered I was in body and mind.

At home it wasn't long before I took to my bed.

-=-

20170216

Sunday March 4, 1979

1st Sunday in Lent.

_. Went with Sarah and Delia to see Bill North at Headingley. It was my first ascent of a block of high rise flats and I was pleasantly surprised.

Bill is something of a cross between Larry Grayson and Liberace, and very suspect. We drank gin and tonic. I agreed to paint his hallway, which has ten doors leading from it, but no overall price was settled upon. He gave me £10 to be going along with though. Delia kept bursting into howls of laughter and blaming it on me, and it was all so childlike and good fun.  I am eternally grateful to that small, valiant lady, with the bunch of gladioli and campaigning spirit, who has undoubtedly saved me from prostitution & degradation.

Hilda and Tony came here again. Wine was consumed on the usual vast scale and we discussed the so-called family tree. I am sure that Tony knows more on this subject than he lets on , and when I next go to Pudsey I must look at the Wilson family Bible. I gave him the dates of the burials of John & Rella Wilson who died in Dec 1920 and March 1926 respectively. Lynn and David came and saw Auntie H for the first time in three years.

20170215

Wednesday February 28, 1979

_. There is a saying that goes "faber est quisque fortunae suae" - so where have I slipped up for God's sake?

I try to do my bit and keep out of trouble. I've never voted Labour, contracted VD or praised the Ayatollah, so why am I being singled out in this cruel way?

This evening I phoned Dave in Stockport and put him off coming at the weekend. He has postponed his trip until March 9. This is far more sensible and agreeable for all concerned. My excuse to Dave - an outright lie - was that I have found employment decorating at the weekend. This may prove more accurate than you may think. Delia phoned me this afternoon in a state of great intoxication. She immediately put me onto a male flower arranging friend [bent as a nine bob note] who wants paint slapped over some of the walls of his flat. The delightful sum of fifty quid was mentioned. Naturally, I leapt eighteen feet into the air and suffered a major respiratory collapse.  £50 is just the right sum to save me from incarceration in the Chateau d'If, and putting emulsion paint on walls is simplicity itself. Further arrangements will be made on Friday but it seems that good old Delia has found me salvation.

-=-

Saturday February 24, 1979

_. Spent the whole day alone like a recluse, lost in solitude and very deep, serious thought.  Mum and Dad went out to Clapham [near Settle] for the afternoon leaving me slumped over the typewriter dashing out a tale to Delia and then compiling a 'Stockport County Quiz' for David in that town.  I was far from satisfied with my efforts and by 5:30 all I had to show for a days toil was cold feet and a dull, aching pain in the back of my kneck. [Does kneck begin with a K? Of course not. Oh dear, I must be thinking of knickers].

Susan and Peter went to a cousin's 21st [a Miss Sanderson?] - at a club in Otley this afternoon, and Peter returned with glassy eyes and hair jutting out. They were off out again within minutes and then the walkers staggered in from the dales.

Watched TV with Mum and Dad. I didn't realise I was being morose or dull until Mama, that ever vigilant all seeing woman, pointed out that I hadn't said a word in hours. I blamed my lengthy silence on the long day in solitary confinement. I did feel like the Count of Monte Cristo - alone in my mustard coloured cell, commonly called the dining room, with no company other than the rats and vermin who have accumulated outside since the onset of the dustmen's strike - about eight long weeks ago.

-=-

Friday February 23, 1979

_. Warm & sunshine. A spring-like day with the birds clucking overhead and the daffs forcing themselves up from 'neath the leaden earth. I think our esteemed prime minister has done a deal with the lads at the World Meteorological Conference to arrange this, and if the weathermen at the BBC suddenly have a wage rise of 60 per cent we'll all know what's happened.

At lunchtime I met Sarah and Delia at Len's Bar. Delia was moaning about the head of the Leeds museums, who refuses to let her decorate the museum at Kirkstall with garlands of flowers, inside and out. She's already been refused permission to drape garlands over the famous Leeds lions at the Town Hall and is mortally wounded by the general apathy and dreary attitude of those employed in local government. It would appear that Harewood House is Delia's only retreat, and venue for her floral displays, but she hated her last encounter with the Countess [of Harewood] .

Delia discussed Jo T_____, the previous flower chairman,  saying she is undoubtedly 'perverted' and between sips of bitter lemon, adds that the woman is 'slightly lesbian'. Sarah spluttered lager everywhere. Or was it cider?

Delia says I ought to be a scriptwriter. __________.

Back to the YP at 2:30 totally cheesed off with my financial situation. Looking around the office I don't care what I do in future just as long as I can escape the clutches of the Yorkshire Post.  I do so miss 'The Times' - since that paper collapsed I long for the feel of that delicate, exquisite paper between my fingers. Alas, no more.

Sat tonight over whisky with Mum & Dad. We discussed the question of wages and what different workers deserve. Are ambulance men really necessary?  If Field Marshals were to withdraw labour would anybody notice? This dragged on for hours.

Saw Peter Sellers in a late night movie which was hilarious. The man is undoubtedly a genius. Bed at 2am.

-=-

20170210

Friday February 16, 1979

_. Slept until 11. Wrapped up well before leaving for Sarah's at Horsforth at 12 o'clock. Mum was grumpy because I was venturing out when I'm supposed to be ill and off work. To Ivory Towers [238, West End Lane, Horsforth] where I collected a pile of clothes ordered from the Grattans catalogue. Delia, Sarah and I went first to Morrisons and then a wallpaper shop. It wasn't an easy thing selecting wallpaper. We all had very different opinions. Just why was I there?
They are lovely women.

Home at 5:30. Tonight, to the Shoulder with Sue, Peter, Chippy, Debbie, "Floo" and his moll. Quite boring really. Peter M, Chris R and Steve came in and I chatted with them to break the monotony.  Home at 11, sober and dull. I argued with Motherdear about something ridiculous.

Pnuemocallaghanicosis is sweeping the country. It affects its victims in a serious, embarrassing way. The symptoms are a] not wanting to work, b] an inability to dispose of refuse or move the bins, c] the appetite is unaffected and d] the victim is still quite capable of consuming vast quantities of alcohol, e] he looks outwardly healthy but is dim witted and slow to grasp the situation, and f] he becomes belligerent to those who might want to boost the economy, or be inclined to labour for the greater good. The only known cure is to give the victim an immediate pay rise of over 50 per cent.

-=-

20150215

Tuesday January 9, 1979

Slight snow. Boring at the YP. We played cards all lunchtime. I'm becoming quite fanatical about poker. I do have an addictive personality. It was Dave Lawson who said that greyhound racing would be my downfall.

To the library in town with Sarah. Took out the Crossman Diaries 1964-68 which should see me nicely into autumn.

Poor Sarah wanted a volume on rugby league, but the whole of Leeds City Library was ransacked without success. Ray Fletcher will see her right.

On the subject of books I have just finished reading "Handful of Dust" by Evelyn Waugh. Quite the most entertaining volume I've read in years, but sad and frustrating.

Went to Delia's with S(arah) this evening. Delia gave me red wine and spoke about the possibility of decorating the exterior of Leeds Town Hall with garlands of gladioli, &c. She is insane. She is a marvellous friend is Delia Collis with the mind of a teenager. She cooked pork fillet in prunes which was delicious. Sarah and I ate chocolates afterwards and enjoyed a few hands of rummy. The dog, Sophie, resembles a long-haired caramel seal.

At 6:30 we left for Leeds and met Marilyn (Wheeler) at the ABC cinema. Saw Christopher Reeve, Marlon Brando and others in 'Superman'. It started well but was weak. Did a good deal of laughing, but in inappropriate places. It's Sarah's opinion that the advertisements are very often better produced and far more entertaining than the epic on screen. Marlon Brando was paid £200,000 a minute for his brief appearance, I believe.

The journey home was tedious. Marilyn is no conversationalist. She sat there like a dummy. Sarah sat smoking like a chimney, similarly uncommunicative. Pissed up football hooligans were on the upper deck of the bus. Much use of the word 'fuck'.

Home at 11:45. Had cheese on toast. To bed at 12:53am.

-=-


20131129

Monday November 6, 1978

Miserable day at the YP. Sarah not in a happy mood. I sat admiring a new batch of photographs of Princess Michael of Kent. A classic beauty, stylish, &c. Sarah came out with a tirade of abuse directed at the images of HRH and said she looks 'plain'. Plain?

Delia phoned wanting to know Princess Marina's date of death. I told her (August, 1968). She didn't ask to speak to her daughter, which was just as well.

On the home front all is calm. Susan and Mum spent the night knitting with gusto. In fact it looked just like the war effort all over again. Peter didn't come up tonight because Margaret & Jim have taken his car and gone to see Lynn and Dave, and Pete always refuses to scale the heights of Hawksworth Lane on foot. (Even Sherpa Tenzing Norgay did it by car).

I had piles of sandwiches heavily coated in Mama's own pickle. Stupendous.

Jacq phoned to say Derek is taking us out to dinner on Saturday night at his golf club and so could I possibly pack something other than jeans. That rubbed me up the wrong way. When do I ever go anywhere taking only jeans?

-=-

20131115

Sunday October 8, 1978

20th after Trinity

Out of bed at 11:30. Spent the afternoon with Mummy. Dad was working and the three of us watched the television in silence until Sarah came over at about 3 to collect some of Auntie Delia's flower arranging equipment. We watched a Jack Lemmon film together and knocked back a few glasses of lager.

Lynn,Dave, Sue and Pete arrived home at 8:30 from Alison and John's bearing tidings of great sadness. At first Lynn says John has got 'cold feet' over the forthcoming wedding, and I don't think it's too serious because many people have last minute doubts, but she goes on to say more. __________________________________________.

-=-

20131114

Friday September 8, 1978

Busy day. I spent the afternoon at Esholt church with Sarah and Delia watching them arrange flowers, and came with them back to Pine Tops, laden with flowers, to decorate the house for Mama. They did the church wonderfully.

At 2pm John Pinder and I escaped to the Commercial - just for one drink. John was a bit over powered by Delia, who was going on about Lord Valentine Thynne and her recent experiences with Lord Bath at Longleat. It was just too much for him.

Mum was suffering all day after her barley wine session last night. Sue was feeling ill this evening. Her ear piercings from a few weeks ago have gone wrong.

Uncle Bert and Aunt Jadwega arrived with Cousin Reggie. Dave of Stockport closely followed. We laughed and joked. Jacq arrived bearing a bowl of jelly beans for Lynn and Dave B too put in an appearance but was sent home before midnight of course. We sat in the lounge buried beneath continental quilts ~ the house was so cold to preserve Mama's floral displays.

-=-

20131113

Thursday September 7, 1978

This evening I went down to Esholt with Delia and Sarah to dump flower arranging equipment at St Paul's church and after a gruesome interview with Mrs Smith, the church caretaker, we fell into the Commercial for a little light refreshment. We bumped into Martyn and Pete M.

Alison and John P came tonight and the pre~nuptial celebrations are underway. Presents were torn open, wine consumed and the laughter and merry~making went on into the early hours of Friday morning.

-=-

20131112

Monday August 21, 1978

Mrs Christine Newton, Princess Margaret and the Hon Gerald Lascelles are leaping around in their carpet slippers today tearing open birthday cards & presents, and devouring large chunks of iced fruit cake. I haven't laid eyes on Mrs Newton since the day of her marriage in August last year. She may be dead. She may be expecting a multiple birth to fill the bedrooms of her pleasant semi-detached property.

Sarah was taken ill at the YP with pains in her chest (again). She looked awfully pale. At 10 we kicked her off home. She told me that my letter to Delia from Nunwoman, Leaper and Nunwoman Solicitors had Barbara Wheeler wetting herself yesterday.

Met Jacq for lunch at the Ostlers for a few pints and cheeseburgers. The friendly, neolithic bar~tender, who is deaf as a post, always brings the wrong food and drink. Jacq, for instance, had a brandy and Babycham followed by a Gin Fizz ~ and we only ordered lager.

Tonight: with Dad, Dave and Lynn to Lawn Road. I made a start 'emulsioning' the lounge. Worked until 10:30.

John called to see Mama tonight. He moves to Stranraer in two weeks and starts his new job on September 11.

-=-

Friday August 18, 1978

Full Moon 11:14

Helped Mum with her shopping this morning which was a rare occurrence. In the afternoon I compiled a letter to Delia (in the guise of my solicitor Nunwoman, Leaper & Nunwoman).

Worked this evening at the YP. At 10 I joined Jacq at the Central for half an hour or so. The people in that pub are incredibly revolting and gruesome. Dregs of the earth would be putting it mildly.

Tonight my taxi driver seemed to be very well educated. No, he didn't insist that he's the world's leading authority on snakes, and no, he hadn't witnessed Mau Mau atrocities in Kenya. He made some intelligent remarks about microfilm and the Leeds Intelligencer which surprised me. They really ought to give inquisitive people like him an outlet for their energies in some sort of polytechnic. Doing essays on 'Taxis through the Ages'. How about 'The Influence of the Cab Driver on Charles Darwin and his subsequent theory of relativity'? Or, 'In what way did the gun~boat policy of Lord Palmerston affect the taxi fares in Leeds after 1861'? Or ....... King Louis XVI's Flight to Varenne: Would it have succeeded with Telecabs? Discuss.

-=-

20131111

Sunday August 13, 1978

13th after Trinity

The sun shone down upon us this morning. I was out of bed by 10am cooking breakfast for Jacq and myself.

Afterwards Susan worked wonders with Mum's hair and they both retreated into the garden. At 11:30 Jacq and I walked down to the Commercial. She told me it's our first date 'alone' ~ with just the two of us ~ since I came back from San Antonio. She says she was getting quite a complex about it.

We sat outside at the pub drinking Stella Artois and had beef sandwiches. Jacq says she wants to be a housewife and rear about 10 kids. Evidently, Derek is keen to be a grandfather. __________.

Our solitude was interrupted by Sarah and Delia who came down at about 1 o'clock. Whilst Sarah was inside getting the drinks Delia informed us that Sarah finished with John Mac last night because he's such a boring, dull person. In front of Jacq she went on to say that I'm more Sarah's type and says I stand a good chance. Jacq almost choked on her lager and blackcurrant. Sarah and Delia went over to gaze at the church for half an hour & then shot off leaving me with a note to pass on to dear Mama.

At 2 we returned home taking a short cut across the fields. Poor Jacq wasn't dressed for the hike. We sat with Mum in the garden and devoured more sandwiches until 4:30 when we went into Leeds together.

I was at the YP for 5:30. The evening was completely dead. At 10 I met Jacq again and we had a drink at the Central. Supping shandy listening to the pulsating music. Home in a taxi at midnight. My driver told me his dream is to have a milk round. Mum had left me a dinner on a plate. I didn't get to bed until 1:09am.

-=-

20131104

Monday August 7, 1978

Bank Holiday {Scotland}

Very wet, revolting day. Lounged in bed until 11 and then had a bacon and egg sandwich and cup of tea. My rear feels slightly more painful today. Had a hot bath.

Uncle Peter dropped in at lunchtime for a sandwich. At 2 Dad drove me to Otley Hospital. A fat, old doctor with half~moon spectacles took a brief look at my buttocks and told me to come back on Monday next week to have the stitches removed.

Home for 3. Watched the end of a 1940 Jack Benny film and did a little reading. To be quite honest, I'm bored silly just lounging around the house. Jacq phoned to enquire about the state of my bottom.

At 7:30 Delia and Sarah came to see Lynn and Mum about the flowers for the wedding. Sarah thinks I look unwell. She suggests I get a doctor's note and have the rest of the week off. I decide to take tomorrow off, but go back on Wednesday.

Wedding fever is now gripping Pine Tops. Mum and Lynn spent the night chatting about flowers, cakes, cards, and booze. Saw a far~fetched Roger Moore film and retired to bed at 11:30.

-=-

20130617

Wednesday June 7, 1978

Her Majesty the Queen celebrated her (Silver) Jubilee one year ago today. Our poor, overworked monarch has a nasty duty ahead of her next week. She has to entertain the 'unspellable' president of Romania at the palace for three or four tortuous days and I don't think HM will be looking forward with an pleasure to this. Wasn't HM's great-aunt Helen, a princess of Edinburgh, and granddaughter of Queen Victoria, Queen of Romania? Helen wed into that shaky Balkan monarchy which fell in 1947. However, if the said president's visit helps Mr Callagas sell a couple of verticle take-off planes to the commies it will all have been worthwhile.

Anyway, Sarah finally got away today. Can you believe that her grandmother stood on a red table in the garden in Horsforth waving franticly as Sarah and Delia flew off from Yeadon? Such a pleasant, Goon-like sight that must have been.

The YP is hell without my whistling knee-grasping companion. Kathleen ought to retire _____________.

Tuesday June 6, 1978

Sarah goes off to Palma with Delia tomorrow, and to mark the occasion we had a wild lunchtime together. We bought sandwiches and went to Park Square and noshed and swilled tomato soup in the light drizzle. Yes folks, summer is over.

From Park Sq we went to Len's Bar and downed one, tiny drink and I bid her a fond 'bon voyage'. She and Delia are having a party on June 18 and so the ritual 'Father's Day' spectacular trip to Blackpool will be abandoned. The experience would be too great anyway, and with a holiday looming it would be sheer, unadulterated financial folly. Besides, the parties at Ivory Towers are equally entertaining.

-=-

Sunday March 25, 1984

 Moorhouse Inn British Summer Time begins 3rd Sunday in Lent Bacon sandwiches and the Sunday Telegraph. Fuss about the Queen's visit to ...