_. A revolting hangover today. Annie & Arthur Greenhoff returned to Mexborough and obscurity, and we rolled around on the lawn drinking cheap, fizzy plonk. Lynn & David had stayed the night, and it was she who organised the booze on the lawn. The idea hadn't entered my head.
Alison slept on the lawn from lunchtime until 6pm, making the occasional grunting sound and hideous slurping noises.
Mum and Dad seem sublimely happy. They have given each other rings. I smile at Papa because he keeps holding out his hand to admire the golden adornment. Mum had said that she would not buy him a ring until he promised to give up the hideous habit of nail biting, but she has obviously given up all hope.
Had fish and chips. Went out to cut the lawns. The grass was flat and yellow where Lynn had been sitting. The patch looked as though eighty tons of pig iron had been resting upon it for six months. It is, I know, an uncharitable comment to make about my blooming, rotund sister, but true.
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20180620
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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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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