Tuesday March 28, 1978

Annunciation (transference)

Jacqui

Phoned Jacqui today. She isn't coming up now until next Monday. This is better I suppose because now it won't clash with Dave's weekend of sin and debauchery. She had a good Easter. Last night Chris attempted to draw information of Jacqui's move northward from me. He didn't get much. He said he could foresee 'Ding Dong Merrily on High' for us in the near future. Whether this refers to a marriage or a premature Christmas I'm unsure. ________________________. I do think a lot of our Jacq and regard her as a leading contender for my hand. But you know what I'm like. I'll probably be 80 before anyone traps me.

Winding my way home this evening I encountered the recumbent form of the Rev. Downing. He was bent tearing up dandelion leaves on Hawksworth Lane. He held me in conversation for ages on the subject of my writing. The dear old man described my 'epistle' to Naomi  accepting the invitation to her 21st birthday party as a 'brilliant piece of work'. I cowered in my modesty as he went on to say I should take up writing on a permanent basis. He asked me, midst the dandelions, why I am not a journalist. I told him it didn't appeal to me. Crikey, Bernard Shaw and Noel Coward were not NUJ members and I don't think it held them back. I said I'd like to be an author and was surprised that he didn't laugh hysterically ~ he just nodded thoughtfully and said what a good idea it was. This makes me think seriously about my 'talent' when ageing theologians and academics express delight at my shoddy, cheap, vulgar 'epistles'. I can appreciate my own friends being amused, because nobody writes these days.


-=-

Thursday December 8, 1977

The snow disappears. Feel much better. I have tired of GBS's plays and I am 'glued' to a romantic novel about John of Gaunt and Katherine Swynford. Not my usual style of reading but it's excellent.

Master Phillips is to be christened Peter Mark Andrew by Dr Coggan at Buckingham Palace on Dec 22. The Queen's grandson called Pete! I suppose they've named him after Mark's Dad, Maj Phillips. Andrew is for the baby's uncle of course. Mark is self explanatory.

Carole phoned. They are letting her out tomorrow. David G phoned. Why don't I go over on Saturday, he asks? Why not indeed. _________. For a couple of quid who can argue with the lad? Blimey, Stockport one week, Muswell Hill the next. I'm the nearest thing to a peasant jet-setter. Dave says Glenn is back from his Miami sojourn.

I'm going to Leeds tomorrow to collect my pittance and purchase five or six 'Chrisy' presents.

-=-

Tuesday December 6, 1977

_.A day at home. Feeling much, much better. Read 'The Millionairess' by G.B.S. Finished it.

Carole will have received my letter today. I hope she likes it. She has been complaining that I never write.

Dad brought his typewriter home from the office and so I wrote to Jacqui. I enjoy typing.

We turned off the television fairly early. Mama is knitting me a large, chunky pullover. _________.

-=-

Monday December 5, 1977

_.Much better today. Out of bed by 10:30 and spent the day reading 'The Millionairess' by G.B.S. I'm in stitches at much of the dialogue. It's far better than 'The Apple Cart'.

Had kippers at lunch and pork this evening.

Harold Pinter.

Peter N hobbled up to see us. Lynn spent the evening with David at Pool in Wharfedale.

The TV was crap except for Barry Humphries, but he was only on for 30 minutes or so. At 9 o'clock we switched off. I walked around the house, hands in pockets, complaining I had nothing to do. It was reminiscent of my childhood. I have decided to write a play. I'm going to be a second Mr Shaw or Harold Pinter.

Jacqui phoned. She can't get any specs like Groucho Marx, or at least she can't from Derek Sate. I tackled Ernest tonight and he said he might have a pair somewhere. Back to Jacqui: she was in high spirits and sympathetic about the Bubonic plague (my illness). I also wrote to Carole and told her I'm at home. _____.

-==

Monday November 21, 1977

Wet, cold and wicked is an apt description of today. The YP was quiet and inoffensive. Eileen is in hospital having something done to her nose again and won't be back before Easter _________.

Anwar Sadat.

Masses of drivel in the papers on President Sadat's hysterical trip to Jerusalem. The PLO will have him done away with before you can say Golda Meir. The poor man is doing his utmost to achieve peace.

Jacqui phoned at 1pm to ask whether I can stay in London from Dec 16 to the morning of Dec 19 so enabling me to be entertained to dinner by her mum on the night of Sunday Dec 18. I shall have to see what I can do. It all sounds very nice especially in these miserable times up here. I can think of nothing nicer than escaping to the metropolis for three whole days.

Mum and Dad went to see John and Maria for a couple of hours. Mum returned very cheerful and revived. Seeing her grandson has an amazing effect upon her. __________.

Watched some TV and read 'The Count of Monte Cristo'. By 12:26 I'm on page 870. I am going to throw a party when I finish the book. Took a bath and did some more reading. Dad's been looking at Shaw's preface to 'The Apple Cart'. He thinks GBS is a silly, cynical old man. He's more than that I'm afraid ...  he's dead.

-=-

Wednesday November 16, 1977

The Press seems to forget that the nation is burning down (whilst Home Secretary Merlyn Rees fiddles at Westminster) in order to spread joy and adulation at the Royal birth.  No monarch has had a plain 'mister' for a grandson since King Edward IV, whose daughter Cicely married a licensee or fireman and had two kids and lived in a tower block in Salford. Yes, it's just like the Dark Ages all over again, folks. All we want now is a Great Fire of London in the midst of the firemen's strike.

Mum and Dad went to Ruby and Arthur's in Norfolk today.I'm glad Mum is up and about again. They're back on Sunday I expect.

Watched a David Niven film called 'Statue' on BBC2. A real telly addict these days, aren't I? I am reading everything I can lay my hands on as well. 'The Count of Monte Cristo' for instance, to name but a few, and 'The Apple Cart' by Bernard Shaw. Yes, good old G.B.S. To be precise, it's the 'Bodley Head Bernard Shaw Collected Plays with their prefaces' which includes The Apple Cart, St Joan, The Millionairess, &c, &c. Very good. I especially like his preface to the Apple Cart where he likens democracy to the sea and the fact that sometimes it is furiously violent and always uncertain.

-=-

Wednesday November 2, 1977

GBS: died 27 years ago.

Ordinary day. Nothing startling to report. But not so in days gone by. (George) Bernard Shaw died 27 years ago this day, and Queen Marie Antoinette was brought into the world 222 years ago. I wonder if this pair have anything in common? I suppose they both have entries in the Oxford Dictionary of Quotations, but that will be about it. Hang on, I've just delved into the Irish Encyclopedia under the entry for Marie Antoinette and to my amazement I see that prior to her marriage to Louis XVI she was in fact Miss Marie Antoinette Shaw, a Dublin-born shorthand typist, and a great-aunt of George Bernard Shaw, the playwright. Incredible. Isn't it a small world?

-=-

Sunday May 15, 1977

Hereward the Wake

Rogation Sunday. Up at 6.30am with the biggest hangover history has ever seen. The combined hangovers of Hereward the Wake, Edward the Confessor, Napoleon, George Bernard Shaw and Mitzi Gaynor only equal half the one I experienced this morning. Water. All I wanted was water. I would have willingly swapped my best girl for a glass of chilled H2o. Dave obliged by rushing to the bathroom and bringing me a cup full. Passed into unconsciousness and slept until about 10.30. Discuss Glenn's disappearance but we decide not to visit his residence just in case he never made it home last night. Good God. Suppose he's fallen into the Manchester Ship Canal?

Mitzi Gaynor.

Dave accidentally locked his bedroom door with the key inside and we spent half an hour trying to break in. Eventually we used a large built gent from the tap room as a battering ram. Dave and I were in the bar by 12.10 and ale was supped until 2pm. joined by Garry and another guy whose name escapes me. At 2 Dave and I take lunch in the private apartments of the Hollywood and we shared a bottle of wine (Chevalier de la Rose Grand vin De Bourgogne. Importers H. Sichel and Sons Ltd, W2). Not too bad.

Glenn called on us with his holiday money (£145) and the three of us went to the pool room for a game. Laugh myself stupid at Dave who clowns around like no one I've ever known. At 7 o'clock it's time to part. Had a word with Jim Glynn and went to the bar and bought Mrs G a drink and said farewell. The lads took me to Manchester at 7.30-ish and I was home by 10.30 with £290 in my pocket. The lads are coming on June 3 and I plan to go back to Stockport on July 9, the day before 'Operation Ibiza'.

Martyn and Tony are at Pine Tops and M gives me a blank cheque for tomorrow's pilgrimage to WH Smith and Sons. Bath and bed at approximately midnight.

-=-