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Tuesday August 7, 1979

_. People are telling me I'm putting on weight. I'm paying now for being a ten stone weakling for my first quarter of a century. Is 12st excessive for a 6ft 25 year old? On a happier note a trainee journalist approached me today and mistook me for a classmate. The pimply 19 year-old youth thought I was a teenager.

Took a bath. Early to bed.

-=-


Monday August 6, 1979

_. Bank Holiday in Scotland & Irish Republic

A wet, hideous day. Home at five to see Hilda and Tony who came over to collect Ruby and Arthur. Maria and the children come here too. She misses John. The Gadsbys make off with the Pearces to Pudsey. Ruby cannot be long for this world.

JPH stayed to tea and ate roast beef, chips, salad, and mounds of chocolate cake. At 7 I carried the monster home to Ridgeway so that he could talk to his Papa - who phoned just as we arrived.

Molly went on for what seemed like ages on the pros and cons of buying a swing for the garden. I sipped my ale peacefully, trying not to glaze over.

-=-

Sunday August 5, 1979

_. 8th Sunday after Trinity

Never have I felt so diabolical. I regained consciousness at 11am. Poor Ally was next to me shrouded in sheets and resembled the tomb of Princess Charlotte of Wales in St George's Chapel, Windsor.

Later we took presents to Karen & Steve's house, but we didn't stay long. Came home in the Spitfire with roof down to blow away the cobwebs. We collapsed onto the sofa listening to Tchaikovsky's 'Romeo & Juliet' , but this tranquil scene was shattered by the arrival of Maria with JPH and Catherine. They walked from Ridgeway, Maria pushing the pram. Mum and Dad had gone out for the day into the Dales with Ruby and Arthur. Maria laughed at our pathetic state.

-=-

Saturday August 4, 1979

_. Lynn phoned at breakfast time to say they were safely in Cornwall. Susan slept from Shipley to Dartmoor where they had a moorland breakfast.

I tore up roses in the garden and various other blooms and made floral arrangements for our button-holes. Mum and Dad left for Pudsey at 11:15 with Ruby and Arthur, and Ally and I went up to Morrisons to cash a cheque and didn't get to the church until noon, just before the bride arrived. Pudsey Parish Church was looking somewhat tatty. I haven't entered the place since the bride's parents married here on Christmas Eve 1955.

The wedding breakfast took place at the Civic Centre. Ham salad followed by trifle. At 4pm some inconsiderate guest let off a stink bomb, which brought the proceedings to a sudden end. We sought refuge at Auntie Hilda's where we had drinks on the lawn. Hilarious. Something of a piss-up. I wore Mum's hat, and Tony was wearing a fetching blue creation. Mum met her old friend Shirley Hardaker.

Later the party continued at Farsley Celtic Football Club. Me wearing my Hawaiian-style shirt. A tolerable evening. Back to Hilda's where Ally and I drank rum and orange with Jill and Tim. We all slept in various corners of the house, but not until about 4am.

-=-

Friday August 3, 1979

_. I'm reading more Evelyn Waugh. It's 'Brideshead Revisited' now, and I think the house is based on Castle Howard. Mr Waugh was such a brilliant geezer with a pen. Not really fashionable in the 1970s, but that's probably why I'm drawn to him.

Ally and I decided to stay at home tonight in front of a TV set. Ruby and Arthur stayed in to entertain us. Entertain isn't the word. Ruby's arthritis seemed to put a wet blanker over us all. In order to kill some of the pain in her feet she ceaselessly marches up and down the sitting room, leaning on two sticks and gasping and moaning in the process. Like a wounded animal. Poor Arthur, now 75, says they should never have travelled here.

Edward G. Robinson on the telly.

Hasn't the Queen done well in Zambia? They hail her 'Queen of the World' and everyone is saying how she helped break the ice for Margaret Thatcher, who wasn't getting on very well with Mr Kaunda at the [Commonwealth] conference.  I do wish Jim Rawnsley was the gambling type because I'd take from him every penny he's got on the subject of the monarchy. He says the UK will be a republic by 2000 and that the poor Prince of Wales will never be King. Ludicrous don't you think?

Lynn, Dave, Sue and Peter left for St Ives at about 11:30pm.

-=-

Wednesday May 9, 1984

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds, &c Still dull outside. Who cares? Our alarm clock is on the blink and refuses to sound off. Samuel laid patiently...