Sunday September 28, 1980

_. 17th Sunday after Trinity

A cold fried breakfast again. The proprietress of the Marine guest house, whose private room abutts our room, held an orgy in her suite last night for what sounded like the Provisional IRA [Stranraer] branch. We had difficulty sleeping with the noise, and loud Irish expletives.

At Corner House Cottage.

To Corner House Cottage. Ally and I went on a walk gathering blackberries, 3lb in all. At 12:30 Mum, Dad, Lynn, Dave, Sue, Pete, Ally, JPH and I went to the Stoneykirk Hotel, a charming hotel set in its own grounds. Lunch. Scampi [again], and drank in the garden. JPH was so well behaved and charming. He found a playmate whom he referred to as 'the wee girlie'.

The question was asked. Why have we be staying at the sordid Marine Guest House when we could have stayed at the Stoneykirk?

The cottage renovations.

Later Ally and I picked more blackberries and then we left at 4. It's always a sad sight seeing John standing in the bracken waving ferociously until we disappear from view.

A tortuous journey home. Ally felt ill. She can only travel comfortably when she is the one doing the driving. We stopped at Whoop Hall, for drinks. Home at 10:30.

Saw Alan Ayckbourn's 'Bedroom Farce'. The man is a genius.

-=-

Saturday September 27, 1980

_. Maria's arrangements with the slovenly proprietress of the Marine guest house, Stranraer, saw Ally and I sharing a room last night. We have not previously paraded this aspect of our relationship before Mum and Dad before, and I felt uneasy. They ignored our cohabiting and didn't even venture near to room 9, the scene of the crime. The 'guest house' leaves a lot to be desired. The fellow inmates at breakfast, in the main suspicious Irish characters chewing on their fatty bacon and making noises over their greasy pots of tea. It was not the happiest sight to start the day.

Out to the shops at 9:30. Bought John a Barry Manilow album. He likes that sort of thing. Meanwhile at the cottage he and a slave named Bertie were busily building a brick wall around the property. No doubt to ward off gangs of local brigands. Dad was roped in and Mum was busy cuddling babies and making the caravan quiver. We escaped to Port Patrick and the Crown Inn. Had scampi again. Joked about Ally's drink problem. She drinks gin like water, and with little effect. More food at the caravan and then we ventured into Stranaer. On to the Coachman's, for loud, pulsating music. Back to Lochans at 12. All jolly.

-=-

Friday September 26, 1980

_. Up at 9. Our departure for Scotland was delayed for an hour or so. Sue, Pete, Lynn & Dave arrived and we packed the cars. Those who like meddling under cars did so. Off to Scotland at 11.

We had a lunch break at Whoop Hall, near Kirkby Lonsdale, left there at 2, and arrived at Lochans at 6. We ate, drank and made merry in the caravan until after 9 and then we went to the local pub in Lochans [name forgotten] leaving Mum and Dad with the children.

JPH seems almost school-worthy, but Catherine hasn't changed since we saw her in the Spring, and she shuffles around on her diminutive rear.

The cottage is marvellous, and almost ready for habitation. I do not know how they can stand it in the confined, claustrophobic space of the caravan.

Lynn announced her pregnancy.

-=-

Thursday September 25, 1980

_. John is 24. He phoned and sounded genuinely grieved at the loss of the Spitfire. It was his originally, and it holds memories for him dating back to the last summer of his freedom in the steaming swelter of '75.

I dashed from the YP and into the sunshine this evening feeling elated. The place is oppressive and constricting and I haven't had a decent break since the Ibiza fortnight. Pay day too. So looking forward to seeing John, Maria and the dear children.

Lynn: the smoking has ceased.

Ally came at 8, weighed down with luggage in readiness for the Scottish fling. Hilda and Tony were supposed to come too but backed out at the last minute. Tony cited the plumbing at Mabel's flat as an excuse. Joined by Jim, Margaret, Lynn and Dave. Lynn now drinks only very moderately. The smoking also ceased before her pregnancy because she's seen reports that children are born under developed when born to mothers who smoke regularly in pregnancy. Wise of her.

-=-

Wednesday September 24, 1980

_. Hungover, but soon recover thanks to Shazzo's Paracetamol tablets. Drank dark, murky coffee from the machine and attempt to recall last night's movements. Spoke to Ally, also feeling diabolical.
[She brought me as far as Rawdon in Charles at 8. I couldn't face Jennie in my frail condition].

Robert III.

Spent the day researching Lady Diana's family tree. I have found one common ancestor for both Lady Diana and the Prince of Wales. You already know that she descends from Charles II illegitimately via Lennox, Duke of Richmond. Now I find she has a legitimate line from Robert III, King of Scots. The Prince of Wales has several lines of descent from Robert, and the Queen Mother descends from Sir John Lyon, who married Robert III's sister. The majority of our old aristocratic families can find a Royal Stuart in their annals.

Watched 'Coronation Street'. Quite compulsive viewing. Ovaltine. Bed.

-=-

Tuesday September 23, 1980

Charles, the Citroen.

_. To Ally's from the YP. Historic day. Henry, the beloved Triumph Spitfire, has gone to the knackers yard and has been replaced by Charles [pronounced the French way], the Citroen Dyan. A petrol-blue P registered motor. I do hope Ally has more luck with Charles. Henry came to her in the autumn of his existence and was a constant source of pain and distress to his doting mistress.

I have found a suitably Scottish flavoured vintage portrait to make a birthday card for my brother. It's Sir Fitzroy Maclean, Bt [1835-1936], upright, clad in his splendid tartan and covered in orders of chivalry. The old boy was the last survivor of the Charge of the Light Brigade, in the Crimean War.

To the Belfry at 9:30 to collect Ally's money, and on to Guiseley with fish and chips. I was horribly intoxicated, serenading Ally with a selection of Stevie Wonder's greatest hits.

-=-

Monday September 22, 1980

_. Warm, but dull. Rain later. Read in Saturday's Guardian that the recent volcano eruptions have also ruined the weather in '81.

Sat at my desk reading the diaries of Barbara Castle, serialised in the Sunday Times. She doesn't come across as being quite as monstrous as I always imagined her to be.

Phoned Ally. She is collecting the Citroen tomorrow. I will never see the Spitfire again. Sad really.

Diana's lineage.

Researched the lineage of Lady Diana Spencer. Her aristocratic connections are phenomenal. She is descended from the Dukes of Abercorn, Richmond, Gordon [extinct], Bedford and Marlborough. The Earls of Sunderland, Gower, Howe, Cork & Orrery, the Marquesses of Hertford, Viscount Torrington, &c. Through Richmond she is a direct descendant of Charles II. Not even the future Charles III can claim that distinction. Ideal Queen material.

Dave L phoned tonight. He had finished marking his homework, and was bored by the TV. He recently went to London and sought refuge with Denise for the night. She is now back in these parts complaining that in London the only way to get on is to sleep with everyone. Tired of doing this she is now running a travel agents in Horsforth. I arranged to meet him on Oct 3, or Oct 4.

Steak and salad for dinner. Excellent. I told Mum that this is not the way to get rid of me.

TV tonight. 'The French Connection' again. Auntie Hilda phoned Mum. Phil and Denise were married on Saturday.  Retired at 11:30.

-=-

Sunday September 21, 1980

_. 16th Sunday after Trinity

Sunny. Could it be Carol's Indian Summer?  Up at 10. Breakfast with Ally, Frank, Bessie, and Andrew. Frank is such a quiet man. To Haworth at 11:30 for lunch at the Old Sun Inn. Frank payed again. Andrew pulls his father's leg so marvellously. 'Old Jug Ears' is perhaps his favourite insult at the moment. Endured Andrew's Judas Priest cassette in the car. We endured it in silence. Horrified that I may be growing to like it. Back to Lidget Green, and then they went on to Colne.

Ally has arranged a weekend at Martyr Worthy for the gang on Nov 28.

Drank lager and blackcurrant all afternoon listening to Mick Jagger and the Rolling Stones warbling loudly. We are both rock crazy at the moment. Walked down Oak Lane and we were almost overcome by the curry fumes. Ally was almost physically sick.

Got a bus on Manningham Lane and returned to Guiseley at 7. We fancied having a night by a warm TV. Watched a Goldie Hawn film. She's always so good.

-=-

Saturday September 20, 1980

_. Woke up grinning broadly thinking of Peter's perplexed face finding his spare room vacant. I will of course send him a ridiculous letter explaining the reason for my hasty departure.

Bessie and Frank.

Ally rang at 10:30 to say that Frank and Bessie have arrived at Club Street and that they are coming over in Frank's new BMW to collect me in an hour. To Cracoe in Frank's new BMW. Scampi. Frank always insists on paying for everything. Bessie looks better, and is slim and bright. I am very fond of her. She gives such expressive and affectionate glances, and need say nothing. From Cracoe we drove around Skipton, Grassington, Appletreewick, &c. Crowded with Saturday motorists. Frank was almost violent in the car park in Skipton. Purple with rage. Since his operation he is more prone to irritability. He does, however, have many good points. Ally and Bessie are continually apologising for his rudeness.

At 8, back at Club St, Mum, Dad, Lynn and Dave, followed by Sue and Pete arrived for drinks and a light supper. The gathering passed off very well. Bessie seemed to hit it off with Mum. Andrew sat behind a spider plant sinking lager like a man after my own heart. I drank gin and ate all the cheese. They all left at about 1am.

-=-

Friday September 19, 1980

Peter M.

_. Out to Parker's wine bar with Sarah at 1pm. Ghastly afternoon. Felt ill due to lack of food. Home at 6 and recovered in time to go out with Pete M and Steve Hudson to the Shoulder at 8:30. I sat in the back of his open van, hair blowing in the breeze, looking like Charlton Heston in 'Ben Hur'. Peter told me in strictest confidence that he wished he could be fashionable like me. He wasn't taking the mickey either. Oh dear. You've either got it, or you haven't. On to the White Cross. Saw Sue and Pete who were with Audrey Rycroft and her bearded silent, brooding husband. By now we were all very drunk. Steve has a funny heart. It was palpitating again. Transplant material, perhaps? From the Cross to the New Inn. Saw Chippy and Dave W outside the pub and offered them a suitable V sign from my chariot. Exchanged abuse with Dave W which is always fun. Steve left at 11, and after failing to persuade Pete to go on to a disco we went back to his place in Otley for bacon sandwiches and fish fingers. Lynne came down and wasn't too pleased to see me. Donald and Vera, his parents, were at the house in Thornton-le-Dale, and Karl was out on the town. He gave me a room for the night, but at some unearthly hour I left the house and it's sleeping occupants and walked home.

-=-

Thursday September 18, 1980

PC Rhodes: no future.

_. The papers today were full of Lady Diana Spencer. They have all decided it's settled and tied up. I'm not speculating at the moment.

Home at 5:30 to find Mama and Papa in the middle of a fracas. Mum had raise the subject of the future beyond Dad's service in the police force, and Dad had brought the conversation to something of an impasse by saying he had no intention of discussing the future, because as far as he is concerned he doesn't have one. Mum was upset, but far from shattered. I think she is learning to live with his little peculiarities.

Ally came over on the bus at 7:30. The atmosphere in the house was far from harmonious, and so we walked out into Guiseley, for a tour of some of the hostelries. The Yorkshire Rose, the Drop, and the New Inn. This was the first time Ally has been to ours without a car. She once came over with Admiral Dave last year, but that's all. We enjoyed our walk. Autumn is definitely here. Home in a fine drizzle at 11. Saw Lynn and Dave on the lane driving back to Burley. Arranged to go to Dave A and Elaine's on Oct 2. Saw Jim and Margaret. Bed at 1:30.

Wednesday September 17, 1980

_. To Ally's at 5. Listened to music and cuddled until 12. Forgive the crossing out. All my fault.

-=-

Tuesday September 16,1980

_. Shazzo is back from Crete looking decidedly pale and very reticent. What can she have been doing for three weeks? She tells such lies I wouldn't be at all surprised to discover she's really been to Filey, in one of those dreadful caravans. Kathleen was appalling all day, and Sarah made no appearance. She's vomiting.

Phoned at Ally at 2 and spoke to the dreadful Derek Jenkins. She sounded bored, but brightened. I vowed to visit her tomorrow. A Rolling Stones and lager session would be nice.

We are planning a Halloween party on Saturday Nov 1. Obviously, nobody will come, but at least we are making an effort. Some people never give parties but are always the first to attend them.

Benn: wide-eyed pipe smoking maniac.

I am worried about the antics in recent days of Mr Wedgwood Benn and his fanatical band of Labour Lefties. The Labour party conference is looming on the battle scarred horizon and it's clear to me that Callaghan will be slaughtered in favour of this wide-eyed pipe smoking maniac. It's Dad's opinion that Benn and Co will ensure Labour stay in the wilderness for another ten years at least, leaving a clear run for dear Margaret Hilda and that nice Mr Prior. I cannot share my father's optimism. I envisage a Red administration coming to power in 1984 bringing nothing but chaos, anarchy, and useless change for changes sake. What's wrong with the House of Lords, and Eton, cucumber sandwiches and Aston Martin cars?

Saw a programme about the Spitfire plane. Bed at 11:45.

-=-

Monday September 15, 1980

_. Frank Dixon's birthday, and the 40th anniversary of the climax of the Battle of Britain.

Diana: ideal candidate

I spent the morning furiously whistling the theme tune from The Dambusters, under the impression that it was the Battle of Britain theme tune. Never mind. At least I was on the right track.

Spoke to Bob Cockroft about Lady Diana Spencer. She is the ideal candidate for future Queen, but we'll be kept in the dark until the actual day of the engagement announcement.

Spoke to Ally. She was miserable about Henry [the car] and is still sat at her desk buried in Agatha Christie novels. She is going mad with boredom. Catherine Brook doesn't return from Menorca until Wednesday.

Spoke to John tonight. His job as a paint sprayer is now in jeopardy. Corner House Cottage is coming along nicely, and Maria's been rolling the soil in readiness for the turf laying.

We are all out of cash at home. Mum is, at this very moment, hatching a plot to mug the electricity man when he comes to read the metre in the morning. She has just ransacked a cupboard, and shaken the change from Dad's trousers to muster  up 90p for my bus fares. Pathetic, isn't it?

In the News: Turkey has had another bloodless coup d'etat. John Anderson is gaining popularity in the coming US presidential election campaign. The Marchioness of Northampton has given birth to a daughter. Oh yes, and Mandy Baker is expecting a baby in mid-March. To bed at 12:30.

-=-

Sunday September 14, 1980

_. A guy by the name of Andy phoned this afternoon and asked to speak to Alison. I'm curious. Could it be Prince Andrew perhaps, or Andrew, the chef at the Belfry? I phoned Ally, who was quite mystified. Wrong number? Strange coincidence?

Clouseau: exquisite

Saw one of those Sunday afternoon old films. Leslie Howard as R.J. Mitchell, the inventor of the Spitfire [the plane, not the car]. Corny and dreadful, but in an endearing way.

Pork for dinner. Ate too much. Just Mama and I, because Papa was out in his constabulary role beating up innocent members of the public.

Saw Peter Sellers as Inspector Clouseau tonight. Exquisite. Also watched Lord Olivier playing Lord Dowding in 'The Battle of Britain', or was it Lord Dowding playing Lord Olivier in 'The Battle of Marston Moor'? William Walton's battle theme is so good, but the film did go on a bit.

Bed at almost 1am.

-=-

Saturday September 13, 1980

_. Ally phoned at 10:45 and got me out of bed. She came here an hour later and we drove out in the ailing motor car to Grassington, stopping first for a drink in Burnsall. I have offered to pay Ally £15 to be my personal shoe-cleaner. At least I would see her at weekends. She says she may soon be taking me up on the offer because the Belfry is dying on its feet.

In Grassington

To the Black Horse in Grassington. Our last visit here ended so badly.  Back at Pine Tops by 4:30, Sue and Pete were with Mum and Dad. I fiddled around tuning my new portable telly, which arrived yesterday. I now know how it feels to be a man of property.

The Triumph Spitfire began making ridiculous noises and so Ally deposited the car at Sue's and we went out with them to the Burley Gates [formerly the pizza place Burley House], just for one tipple, and then on to the New Inn, which seemed to be full of convicts and potential psychotic killers. Sue went to chat with one of her girlfriends who was with a fiend who daily hacks chunks out of her with a meat cleaver.

Back to West End Terrace for vodka and hotdogs, then Ally and I returned home. I watched an ancient 1930s gangster movie on my new telly, and Ally slept next to me twitching in her sleep reminiscent of an old tabby cat. __________.

-=-

Friday September 12, 1980

Sarah: back from Rhodes

_. Sarah is back from the Island of Rhodes looking decidedly pale. We went to Parker's at 12. She is full of praise for the Greek satellite. Booze was dirt cheap, the food plentiful and the sun blazed down from dawn until dusk. No cars, just donkeys. She saw a host of celebrities there including Angela Rippon, the majority of Pink Floyd, Trevor Eve, &c. Her relationship with Trevor is strong as ever, but she didn't really hit it off with his wild friends. They teamed up with a couple called Penny and Arthur. Why is it that one always meets an Arthur on holiday?

Out tonight with Pete Mather. He phoned at 6:30. Out we went to the Shoulder of M and then the Mucky Duck on Manningham Lane [Black Swan?]. Both pubs were packed. Pete told me tales of Lynne M. On to the Hare and Hounds at Heaton. Joked and clowned around with Sue Martindale. We went on to Oakwood. Pete says he feels so old watching the young ones. Christ Almighty, we are still young, and I for one refuse to give in to this so-called ageing process which is eating away at everyone else.

Home at 12:30.

-=-

Thursday September 11, 1980

_. Marlene is 35 today.

To Ally's after work. Mounds of fish cakes and cauliflower cheese. Back to Guiseley at 8:30 to the Drop and the New Inn. Home at 10 to find Mum playing a hilarious joke on Margaret. Every time Margaret left the room to visit the loo Mum switched a spider plant for a larger one. The poor woman thought the plant was growing before her very eyes. She wasn't amused on discovering the treachery.

I collected some last will and testament forms from a law stationers in Leeds for Mum and Dad. Sounds dreadful, doesn't it? But anyone who owns property should have things settled on paper. Look at the trouble brought about by my the death of my grandfather, John Wilson, in 1961. _______.

-=-

Wednesday September 10, 1980

_. I cannot hear my alarm clock. Useless thing it is.

Spoke to Ally and arranged to go out tonight. It's Wednesday, I know. We never go out on Wednesday, but tonight is an exception.

To the New Inn at 8:30. We huddled together and felt cold. On to the Fox and Hounds. Later, Ally stayed in Sue's old room and I retired to my suite feeling listless and scroggy.

-=-

Tuesday September 9, 1980

Sue: Wendy Wanderers

_. Home at 5:45 and went straight out to Fieldhead playing fields to see Sue play football for the Wendy Wanderers team. They lost 13-4 to a pack of heavies from Huby. Really pathetic. Joined by Jim, Margaret and Julie, who came to lend true Nason support. Afterwards we repaired to the Yorkshire Rose. Lynn and Dave, celebrating 2 years of marriage, put in an appearance before going on to the Emmott Arms for dinner. Dave announced that he has given his notice at Thompson & Spencer after seven years of dedicated service. He has found better employment with another firm of architects in Leeds for £2,000 per annum more.

Susan's friend Audrey ____ devours every man with her eyes. [Can you devour with your eyes?]. A bride of six months, her husband was nowhere to be seen. Pie & peas, &c.

To the White Cross with Sue and Pete for one last drink. Saw 'Flu' and the horrid Sharon. Pete brought me home at 11. Mum and Dad were in bed but I went in and gave them a very biased match report.

-=-

Monday September 8, 1980

_. To Sue and Pete's at 5 from the chaos of the YP. Carol J is having 'man trouble' and felt unable to work today.

Lady Diana: nineteen

The dreadful Sun newspaper told us this morning that the Prince of Wales is now in love with Lady Diana Spencer, the 19 year-old sister of Lady Sarah McCorquodale. She could, of course, be a red herring. Diana's connections with the Royal Household are numerous. Both grannies have been in waiting on the Queen Mother, and her brother-in-law, Robert Fellowes, is the assistant private secretary to the Queen. Nineteen is just the right age. The girl has no past and is 'English Rose' material.

Delia came into the office at 3 and I went down to the foyer to see her. She told Mike Holman that I am her nephew. He gave us peculiar glances as we chortled on a settee.

Sue made fish and chips, peas, cheesecake, washed down with vodka and orange and coffee. Both seem very happy. We sat watching their tiny TV set. Sue is playing football for the Wendy Wanderers at Fieldhead Rd tomorrow against a vicious team of girls from Huby. Peter is coaching her and advises that she must never touch the ball, not even for a second. To do so could result in serious injury, or even death. He must have been advising Leeds Utd too. Susan hates being kissed, and so I made all the more of it when parting. She is lovely and sweet.

Bed at 12.

-=-

Sunday September 7, 1980

_. 14th Sunday after Trinity

Woke up with no hangover. Most unusual. In Sunday tradition I was deposited on Manningham Lane, but Ally almost crashed the car kissing me goodbye.

Had breakfast with Mum & Dad. Ally rattled over at 3 and we paid a visit to Lynn & Dave. Chris B and Julie H dropped in for coffee. They leave for a fortnight's holiday in the south of France tomorrow. Lynn had made some cream buns and Ally laughed at my guzzling. I am taking on a Billy Bunter appearance.

Ally deposited me at home at 6 o'clock and returned to her labours at the Belfry. I told her of Martyn's news.

Dined on chicken with Mum and Dad and we then slept like the inmates of a geriatric hospital. Attempted to watch a violent American film at 10, but fell asleep missing the vital, blood thirsty finish.

-=-

Saturday September 6, 1980

_. Tried to contact Ally all day without success. Played Rachmaninov, drank coffee, sat in the garden [yes, it was fine]. Lynn and Dave called in during the afternoon. At 5 in walked Ally saying she's spent the day in Colne visiting her Auntie Annie.

Phil Knowles.

On to Club St. Back to Guiseley at 8:30 and the rustic delights of the New Inn. Met a drunken Maura again in the company of Marian Read, the cartographer recently returned from the United States, and madder than ever. [See journal, Feb 7, 1975, Feb 15-16, 1975, Feb 18, 1975]. Ally thoroughly approves of my former escorts and we followed them to the White Cross, where Maura was all over Phil Knowles. She would like to capture him, but of course she was formerly engaged to Phil's brother, Dave, which complicates matters. Phil and Ally seemed to get on better than they usually do and Maura, perceptive as ever, said this was entirely down to the fact that Ally wasn't wearing a bra. We saw Chris R and Pete M and I apologised for last night's assault on his house. He took it very well.

On to Bradford for a curry. Marian found a coin in her mince curry and almost broke a tooth.

Ally and I back to Club St.

-=-

Friday September 5, 1980

_. I escaped from the YP at 12. Ventured out this evening with Sue and Pete to the White Cross where we met Frank, Gus, Chippy, Debbie, &c. 

On to the Shoulder where I collided in the gents with Pete M. He filled me in on months of gossip. Martyn is getting married on Oct 4. I passed this news to Sue & Pete. Mr Mather took Mr Hudson home and returned to the White Cross. I was very drunk, staggering around like a space age Freddie Frinton. Saw Maura Tobin [see journal Jan 11, 1975] who was similarly stewed. Maura gave me her telephone number much to the annoyance of her large, tattooed escort. Phil Knowles was there too. On with Pete M to a dull Il Trovatore in Ilkley, and at 1:30 we made a SAS style raid on 21, Victoria Dr, Horsforth, the Ratcliffe residence. The boy [Chris] was far from amused, and he sat in his dressing gown puffing out smoke like a Lowry landscape.

-=-

Thursday September 4, 1980

_. Warm day. Industrious too. Out at lunchtime buying steak, cheese and asparagus - yes, you've heard it all before. On to Bradford at 5 and found Ally in sombre mood worrying about money. She visited her bank manager this afternoon enquiring after a £800 loan for the Citroen. He had to carry her screaming to the door and deposit her in the bustling Bradford street. The thing is he actually said he would have given her the money had she not been the daughter of Mr Frank Dixon, a local director of Barclays Bank, and his life wouldn't have been worth living had he handed over the cash without first consulting the almighty Frank.

Lynn and Dave came to dine at 7. Lynn looked well and ate like a horse. We toasted the future Baker baby and Ally, who has now lived here for a year. George Benson entertained us on the stereo, and we sang the praises of the butcher whose shop is in the shadow of Leeds Town Hall. Ally does do a fine steak, and professionally.

David dismantled the car radio and we looked on in mournful silence. This is the end of an era [as I keep saying]. They left at 12. I stayed at Club St.

-=-

Wednesday September 3, 1980

_. Hot day. Carol J says we are having an Indian Summer. Surely, we are still in the normal summer? Surely, an Indian summer implies a warm spell in late autumn? I wasn't raised on the Pears Encyclopaedia for nothing, you know.

Speaking of Carol [and who isn't these days?] I was amazed to see her on the omnibus this morning heading into work. Disappearing with a running cold as she did on Monday I had given up hope of seeing her until at least next week. The rush of elation which shook my bronzed frame as she emerged up the stairs to the top deck can only be compared to the emotions felt by Stanley on meeting Dr Livingstone.

Industrious day at the YP. I wrote to Ally, and spoke to her on the phone. Derek Jenkins says she should go have an allergy test because she's been sneezing throughout the day. The girl must be allergic to early Indian summers. The man at the Citroen garage insists she buys the turquoise Citroen Dyan. So, it's bye bye Spitty.

Home at 5:30 to pizza pie. The 'Get Michael Married' vendetta continues its disgraceful course. I fully expect Papa to start cultivating geraniums, because he knows how much I despise them. [I sneeze at the very sight of those furry, dust-clinging leaves]. He's having a key cut to lock me out of my bedroom, and is planning to hang a large portrait of Clive Jenkins [a revolting Welsh trade unionist] over the mantlepiece. It has pushed Ally in the opposite direction. She is frightened and upset that people expect us to marry. It's too convenient, thinks she. One thing's for sure, I won't ask Chippy to be my best man.

To bed at 11:50.

-=-

Tuesday September 2, 1980

_. YP: Carol stayed away with her heavy cold leaving only Kathleen and I. Busy all day.

Spitfire: end of an era

I conversed with Ally, only briefly, this afternoon. She is bored without Catherine Brook in the office. She's holidaying in Menorca. She has discovered the joys of P.G. Wodehouse, and cannot put him down. The Triumph Spitfire may be going on Wednesday. The end of an era, and all that.

Home at 6 to a salad before setting about the jungle at the rear of the house with the lawn mower.

In the news: Poland could be invaded by Russia any day now. Roddy Llewellyn is reported to be in Scotland visiting [Princess] Margaret at Colin Tennant's place. The pound is up against the dollar. Another heart transplant patient has bit the dust. The delegates at the TUC conference in Brighton demand a red revolution. Yootha Joyce, a dreadful peroxide blonde actress, has died from alcoholic poisoning. The Prince of Wales, we are told, spends £300 on his suits.

Tommy Cooper was on TV tonight. Saw Nureyev dancing 'Aureole' with the Royal Danish Ballet - impressive. Bed at 11:30. Felt like reading but didn't know what.

-=-

Monday September 1, 1980

_. Something of a rotten day, really. Carol staggered in to work showing all the signs of pneumonia, and sat around sneezing, wheezing and dribbling until lunchtime and then left leaving me on my own. Kathleen, of course, never works Mondays.

Saw in the the death notices of Saturday's Daily Telegraph that Naomi's Dad died on August 28. The Rev Benjamin Downing was something of a character. I remember seeing him buried in the foliage on Hawksworth Lane digging, on all fours, for dandelions for his pet rabbit's evening meal. Naomi was spotted only this weekend making merry in the White Cross.

Susan and Peter came to dinner this evening [roast pork]. She told me 'the lads' have missed me since I haven't been out with them since the wedding. They were all at the Square and Compass on Saturday. After dinner we watched 'Marathon Man' a 1976 Dustin Hoffman film in which Laurence Olivier plays a Nazi war criminal. Mum seethed over her knitting every time anybody said 'fuck'. I puzzle over why such adulation is sprayed over Sir Larry, a vastly over-rated and declining actor. His Hamlet may have been spot on, but that was 1947. Can he live off this forever?

Dad was called to an incident this afternoon where a man was burned to death whilst carrying out repairs on his car. Ugh.

To bed at 12.

-=-

Sunday August 31, 1980

_. 13th Sunday after Trinity

My grandmother, Ruth Ellen Upton would have been eighty today. She married Albert Rhodes in 1922, bore him seven living children, and died, exhausted, in June, 1959.

Said goodbye to Ally at 10:30 and returned home. Met David on the lane and he joined us for breakfast. Mum and Dad went off to a 60th birthday party at Uppermill, and I walked to Burley-in-W which took about an hour. Lynn gave me steak and chips, and afterwards I helped Dave lay a few paving stones, and then joined Lynn in a deckchair [not the same one]. Later they went on to Mr & Mrs Baker's residence at Pool, and dropped me at my deserted home.

Sat with a mug of soup watching TV. A play about Tutankhamun's curse, which was interesting. Didn't the Earl of Carnarvon's daughter, Lady Evelyn Beauchamp die very recently? Bed at 12:30. Mum and Dad came in at 1:30 and Tony woke me.

-=-

Saturday August 30, 1980

_. Breakfast with Mama and Papa and then I disappeared to Ally's, where I found her doing housework. Washing and cleaning like something possessed. That chap Grahame who wrote The Wind in the Willows would have found a suitable adjective to describe Ally's activities, but I fail to do. She asked me to join her, in this dubious spurt of energy, but I clung fiercely to the arms of my chair. After some slight persuasion she transformed from scullery wench to Italian countess, and we headed out in the dying Spitfire to the Bod.

We spent an hour at the Bod, shovelling coins, wildly, and with regularity, into the juke box.  Afterwards we visited the Citroen garage nearby and attempted to inspect a car. We left unsatisfied, after thumbing through 1968 editions of Leeds Topic. The garage proprietor simply vanished.

Back at Club St we found a bottle of David Greenwood's rhubarb wine. Ally concocted a spaghetti bolognese. I ventured into the garden and pulled weeds. Inside, Ally arranged a night out with Lynn and Dave.

Out at 8:30, drunk, and loudly conversing, and Lynn and Dave joined us in the Drop just as we were about to propose marriage in unison, but the words were put off until a later date. Lynn was rosy and well, but is sharp with me when my noisy banter embarrassed her. Bad of me, really. Drank until 11. Saw Walter, the greengrocer, with his mistress of long standing, or long laying. He informed Mrs Hanson, the landlady, that Lynn and I are children of the famous local police sleuth, Lawrence Rhodes. She was somewhat taken aback, and on composing herself reeled off the various incidents in her life where Papa had been a guiding light. Once, she told us through the bottom of a half pint glass, Dad had ejected her forcibly from a polling station after she had a disagreement with an election official.

Lynn and Dave went on to Burley-in-W and we went back to Bradford.

-=-

Friday August 29, 1980

_. Rain. Saw Christine B in town at 12. She was chatty and told me she'd seen Denise Akroyd in The Bank [pub] last night. I marched around Leeds chewing gum, avoiding the sandwich shops. I break out in a cold sweat at the thought of growing fat.

Viscount Linley has gone on holiday to the USA accompanied by a young lady by the name of Claudia Graham-Dixon.

Stayed home with Mum and Dad tonight. We howled with laughter at a Vincent Price 'horror film' 'The Oblong Box', truly pathetic. Laughing likes inmates of an asylum over our coffee and ginger biscuits.

Bed at 1am.

-=-

Thursday August 28, 1980

_. Sunny. A busy lunchtime buying goodies in town. I bought the 'Emotional Rescue' album at last, and the traditional rump steak, asparagus spears and extortionately priced tinned mushrooms. But who buys tinned mushrooms?

I also visited Jacq at Dacre, Son & Hartley with a copy of the Elvis Presley 3rd anniversary EP supplement. Some misguided wench in the office forgot to buy one on the anniversary of the singer's death 2 weeks ago. Jacq looked thin, slumped over her typewriter. Before I left though she did tell me how Trixie had been involved in the Alexandra Palace fire. I won't bother repeating it here.

The offending wallpaper. [We are sat on the loo]

To Ally's at 5. She had been battling with the wallpaper in the bathroom and was up to her knees in damp paper. Ate at 7 and then went to the Bod. We intended going to Oakwood Hall, but a phenomenal wave of common sense, the likes of which I have never seen or felt before, swept over us, and we returned to Club St at 11:30. Sampled homemade orange wine and listened to Mick Jagger, Grace Jones and Donna Summer. I do suppose that by boycotting Oakwood I saved some money.

My brother is throwing a 'cottage warming party' on September 27, for the cream of Lochans society. Mum is put off that outsiders will be attending, but will still make the journey.

To bed at about 1am.

-=-

Wednesday August 27, 1980

_. Heavy mist. Hot later. Three billion Britons are now officially unemployed, or is it two million, one thousand, two hundred and 80? Whatever, it's the worst unemployment figure since the Relief of Ladysmith. Can't say I'm moved to tears. What would St Francis of Assisi have had to say about the situation?

Industrious day at the YP. Spoke to Ally. She's been ripping off wallpaper in her bathroom, for some reason. I'm venturing to Rue Club tomorrow with gifts of pans and beads, rather like David Attenborough does when visiting remote South American tribes.

Delia phoned this morning to discuss a Lit. Lunch. She said Sarah had been dreading going on holiday and almost had to be carried onto the plane at Manchester. She does share my cruel sense of humour.

Getting off my bus at 6 I collided with Lynn. She had walked from Yorkshire Light Aircraft to Guiseley.

Jacq phoned enquiring about an Elvis [Presley] bites the dust EP supplement. I told her I'd find her a copy tomorrow.

Festered in front of the TV tonight. Devoured a hot beef curry and was incapacitated thereafter. Watched a programme about the dreadful Gracie Fields.

Earl Mountbatten died a year ago today. A new book claims that Lady M had an affair with Nehru. Pull the other one, Mr Hough. And I suppose the Queen Mother was having it off with Mr Bhutto.

-=-

Tuesday August 26, 1980

_. Got into the YP on time, for a change. I can never climb out of bed without being cajoled by Sue, so it's difficult now she is gone.

Sarah had a dreadful experience at the party in Cawood yesterday. The girls were set upon by a riotous, drunken mob, and they were deposited, fully clad, in the swimming pool at the orgy. Watches and clothes were ruined. She says she sobbed uncontrollably for hours. Carol J had been deposited in at the deep end, and she cannot swim. Sarah is badly bruised.

Phoned Ally, still celebrating the Bank Holiday. She says she may visit an elderly aunt in Colne. She seldom, if ever, visits Lancashire and her elderly aunts, and so I take this to signify a measure of protest.  I told her I'd be there on Thursday. She rang back at 10 to say the aunt visiting had never materialised and that instead she had stripped the wallpaper from the bathroom walls.

Saw Keith Michell play Henry VIII in part 5 of 'The Six Wives of Henry VIII', first shown in 1972, I think. To bed at 10:30 with a very mug of Ovaltine, like water.

-=-

Monday August 25, 1980

_. Bank Holiday in England, N. Ireland & Wales

Bank Holiday maybe, but I was in the office throughout. It was a hot day too, which is frustrating, but at least I get the extra cash. Just Sarah and I. She went off to a party at Cawood at 2 leaving me holding the fort until 4. Made good my escape on a rare omnibus.

Out with Ally at 7:30 to the Dog and Gun at Apperley Bridge, and then went to inspect the menu at the George and Dragon, but we decided it didn't come up to standard. Onward to Leeds and the delights of Jacomelli's on Boar Lane. Steak restaurant. We had rare rump steaks and chatted away happily ___________.

Tony and Hilda were with Mum and Dad and T pointed out several discrepancies on my family tree.

-=-

Sunday August 24, 1980

_. 12th Sunday after Trinity

Have a blocked head, sniffles, green dribbles. Warm enough to sprawl in a deckchair in the garden, and I did so clutching Joyce Grenfell's autobiography, a well-written tale. The book is on loan to Mum from Auntie Mabel. Joyce's husband, Reggie, is the brother of Lady Waldegrave and Lady Ballantrae [killed in a gale last March in Stranraer, when a tree fell on her], and Mrs Patrick Campbell-Preston, Lady-in-Waiting to the Queen Mother, and Joyce is a niece of Lady Astor [Nancy], the battling MP, who gave Churchill heartburn. No name dropping from Joyce in the book of course. I've worked it out for myself.

Ally came here in her break at 3:30 and stayed until 6. She says she really thinks she should not have bothered coming because I am 'snappy'. So snappy in fact that my deckchair almost caught fire. Fortunately she found it funny. I saw nothing funny. I'm always grumpy when unwell. I sat gasping like an asthmatic pug, drowning to the sound of Tony Blackburn  from the depths of my transistor radio.

Mum and Dad went to Giovanni's until 12:30 leaving me watching TV. Saw the end of the French saga about Molière. Bed late.

-=-

Saturday August 23, 1980

_. Up at 11 and straight on the blower to Ally to discuss the agenda for the day. Rock with horror when she informed me that she is doing the nauseating Mrs Stringer  'a favour' by working both day and night at the Belfry. Evidently, a deaf and dumb couple are being joined in Holy Matrimony, and clearly deaf and dumb nuptials take precedence over my entertainment. Ally is very gifted and can no doubt hold a tray of 'welcome' drinks and perform sign language at the same time. I left the conversation shocked and disturbed.

I took up a copy of the late Joyce Grenfell's biography and read. This was the sum of my day.

Rathbone as Richard III.

Tonight Mama and Papa went to Joe and Anne Grunwell's, leaving me with Joyce Grenfell on paper, and Basil Rathbone as Richard III on film, and a 1938 film at that. Far from satisfactory.

John and Maria were on the phone from Lochans. I answered the call and an appealing voice said: 'Hi'. I replied: 'Hello, JPH.' Long pause, and I said: 'You don't know who this is, do you?' He replied: 'Of course I do, Christopher.' I asked my nephew about Catherine, to which he replied in a Scottish tones: 'She's away to her bed. She's only a wee baby.' Surely, an amazing child.

To bed at 1:45am.

-=-

Friday August 22, 1980

Dallas: over-rated

_. Part from Ally at 7:45 and took the express coach to Leeds, arriving an hour later. Felt sick and tired like I usually do on a Friday morn. At noon I could stand no more, and left for home. Found Mum and Dad in the garden. I bid my farewells and went to bed until 6pm, much to Mum's disgust.

Up at 6pm to a 'breakfast' of bacon and beans, just like Jesse James might have done a century ago. Afterwards, my parents left, in paint covered rags, to Mabel's, yet again, leaving me in my solitude by a steaming television set.

Watched 'Dallas', an over-rated, much publicised US TV series, and then a play about Molière, which was good. Mum and Dad came in at 11:30 and I was in the middle of Lawrence of Arabia. Dad, of course, is named after T.E. Lawrence, a particularly favourite hero of my scatty grandfather. Bed at 1am. Mum and Dad had seen Mum's dreadful sister-in-law, Kathleen, at Mabel's. Poor thing.

-=-

Thursday August 21, 1980

Anna Wallace: engaged

_. The usual blurb in the Press heralds Princess Margaret's 50th birthday. Roddy, they say, is reputedly fading, but I cannot imagine why.

Anna Wallace, once tipped as a future Queen, has announced her engagement to Lord Hesketh's brother, Johnny. Very disturbing. Will the Prince of Wales ever succeed in getting his gal?

To Ally's at 5. Hot and sunny. Broke the Baker news to her. She has been expecting this news since their holiday, and she thinks Lynn looked 'plump' on Sue's wedding photos.

Out at 8:30 to the Junction [?] in Thornton where we were joined at 9 by Catherine Brook, and her accomplice David. ________. A steady, careful couple. Ally and I [after fish and chips in the car] went to Oakwood. No comparison to Nito's. Home at 2 and drank black coffee until 3. Booked an alarm call for morning, just to be on the safe side.

-=-

Wednesday August 20, 1980

_. Home at 5:30. Lynn was there for tea. She sat in the sitting room [where else?] looking pale and tired. Dave arrived at about 7:30 and she asked me how I fancy being an uncle in April! Bless them. They are expecting a tiny Baker. She is now going part-time at Yorkshire Light Aircraft. The doctor only confirmed her condition at 5:15, and she wants to keep the pregnancy secret until October. The baby is due on my 26th birthday. Dave has a bad head, and they left for Burley at about 8:30. I told Lynn to name a daughter Christiana, after our great-grandmother, who was born in Dec, 1866.

-=-

Tuesday August 19, 1980

_. YP: Kathleen's father hasn't succumbed to a heart attack. He had a diabetic collapse, whatever that is. K took the whole of last week as sick leave. Nobody else would have got away with this. Officially, you get three days off for a death in the immediate family, and one day for a birth.

My contributions to the People column are at a standstill owing to the absence, only temporarily, of Bob Cockroft. A Van Straubenzee girl has become engaged  to a nephew of the Marquess of Anglesey, but otherwise all is quiet in the bracken.

Susie phoned tonight and Mum and Dad went down to West End Terrace for an hour leaving me slouched in front of the TV.

-=-

Monday August 18, 1980

_. To Pudsey at 5 from the YP. Auntie Mabel made me a large dinner including dumplings, which flattened me for the rest of the evening. I gloss painted her bedroom, but became unstuck on the bedroom door, and I lost all faith and interest in my life as a decorator. Was joined at 8 by Ally who howled with laughter at old photographs with Mum and Mabel. Auntie's laugh is very infectious. Uncle Tony, in overalls, put in an appearance, and so did Frank.

Auntie Mabel gave me a 1914 studio portrait of my great-grandmother, Sarah Ann Wood [nee Carling], who died in December, 1926, aged 60, and a pic of Uncle Albert and Uncle Oliver, in uniform, dating from the Great War. I will treasure both photos.

Home covered in white paint at 12. Ally onward to Bradford.

-=-

Sunday August 17, 1980

_. 11th Sunday after Trinity

Ally was at the Belfry all day. Sunny at times, yet wet. To one of Graham's pubs at 1pm with Anthony [very humorous] and Philip and Carol, who being newly married talk of nothing but mortgages and pressure cookers. We collected Ally at 3 and went to a diabolical transport cafe in the heart of Bradford in order to feed Graham before his journey home. Ally, making a bad choice again, had moussaka, which tasted like bread pudding, and made her feel sick afterwards. We laughed a good deal. Anthony, disgusted at his surroundings, hid behind a plastic flower arrangement, in fear of being recognised in such a dive.

They all departed at 5, and at 6:15 Ally deposited me on Manningham Lane, and I returned home. Spent the evening in tranquil repose. Tomorrow I am going back to Auntie Mabel's to continue painting.

-=-

Saturday August 16, 1980

_. Graham and Gill collected me at 12 and we had a drink at the Shoulder of Mutton, where they played on the space invader machine. We went at 1 to join Ally at Lidget Green. I was surprised to find Ally was visiting her next door neighbour on Club St, and we were called in to have an audience with Ethel Greenwood, 92, in her urine reeking chamber. Ally had a fit of inappropriate giggles when old Ethel announced: 'I buried my husband when he was 57.' Not a turn of phrase used these days, but the old are so fascinating, don't you think? She said that one day we should return to hear her vivid recollections of Bradford at the turn of the 20th century.

Graham's very amusing, yet effete, friend, Anthony came and we all went to Leeds, yes Leeds, first to a bar called The Bank, which was ridiculously expensive, and then to Bistro 5 for excellent pizzas. Ally chose the wrong dish and had a disappointing lasagne. From here we took a walk in the afternoon sun, and Ally and I broke away from the others and delving into a record shop I bought 'Private Life' by Grace Jones, and a book 'Do Butlers Burgle Banks?' by P.G. Wodehouse. We returned to Bistro 5 for coffee and cake and were back in Lidget Green for 6 o'clock.

Graham and Gill left for a dinner party with Philip and Carol Middlebrough, and Ally and I listened to Grace Jones. We later went to Baildon, and a pub [not a success], and the Bod on Manchester Rd, arriving back at 11. We listened to deafening, yet heavenly music, and were joined by the bloated lodgers at about 3am.

-=-

Friday August 15, 1980

_. To Leeds from Bradford, again. Telephoned Mama to make her feel wanted. I have barely seen her or Papa since we returned from Ibiza. I suspect they are enjoying their new found long overdue seclusion.

Ally did a shift at the Belfry tonight and I went to 5, St Lawrence Close with Lynn, Dave, Hilda, Tony, Mum, Dad, Marlene, Frank, &c. We went to Standale Rise to remove the last of Auntie Mabel's furniture. We all struggled in the flat arranging her bulky furniture in the small square lounge. Like a silly scene from a silent movie. The women giggled so much that the Tv flickered with the peals of laughter.

Mum, Dad and I went on to Hilda's where we found ourselves locked out. Tim and Jill had locked up and gone boozing at St Lawrence Cricket Club. Hilda hoisted herself up onto a window ledge and squeezed herself through a tiny kitchen window, serenaded by the yelping of the confused Yorkshire Terrier below. I wish I could have captured the scene on camera.

Tim, Jill, Karen and Steve came with Tony's former Liberal party agent, Peter. We had a Chinese takeaway. I went into Bradford with Tony and Steve to collect curry for some of them, from a filthy looking place there. Home at one, or was it 2?

-=-

Thursday August 14, 1980

_. Breakfast with Ally leaving Graham and Gill in bed, and then went to the YP by bus.

A foul, wet day. Home to tea with Mum and Dad. The house is quiet without Susan. Her laughter is missed.

Graham, Gill and Ally came for me at 8 and they met Mum and Dad for the first time. Out over the moors to Baildon, where we met Philip and Carol Middlebrough again. From there we visited several grossly miserable pubs where Ally and I would never patronise in a million years if left to our own devices.

Gill told us tales of her life as a teacher at Andover Girls' School, or whatever they call the public school where she teaches. It's all very reminiscent of Evelyn Waugh's 'Decline and Fall.' I am sure that Graham regards me as something of an idiot. I do like him.

We had fish and chips in Lidget Green and drank all Ally's Ibiza gin. To bed quite late, and quite drunk. Graham marvelled at the way Ally and I fit into such a tiny bed.

-=-

Wednesday August 13, 1980

_. Graham and Gill arrived at Ally's, taking her by surprise. They are staying with her until Sunday.

This evening we went to Haworth meeting Philip and Carol Middlebrough en route. Ally played wealthy benefactor, owing to my lack of cash.

Graham was on top form. Silly as ever and so delightfully opinionated. We went to The Old Silent Inn, but didn't eat because the prices were too steep. On to a more reasonably priced, nameless pub for scampi and chips, and then a pub at Harden near Bingley. In Graham's car we listened to 'Derek and Clive Live' by Peter Cook and Dudley Moore - funny, in places.

Back to Ally's for the night.

-=-

Tuesday August 12, 1980

_. To Pudsey with Mum and Dad at 10:30 and spent the day painting Auntie Mabel's bedroom. I left them at 4:30 and got a bus to Leeds. Saw Sarah, who looked exhausted. She is back with RL superstar John Holmes. I am informed that Kathleen's papa suffered a heart attack yesterday and that subsequently the boss won't be putting in an appearance for the rest of the week.

A dull night at the YP. Home at 12:15am. Something has happened that I've been expecting with trepidation for some time. My taxi driver is years younger than me. A mere boy. I sat in silence brooding about the passage of time. I think I can appreciate now how one reads of 80 year-olds who insist that only feel 21. Time just rockets by. I clearly remember being 17 and feel no different now. Cruel, isn't it?

Had salad sandwiches and swigged tea, reading The Times, such a wonderful newspaper.

--=-

Monday August 11, 1980

_. Rain. Still reeking of garlic from three thousand miles away.

Eileen had a baby boy on August 5, weighing something in the region of 6lb. He is to be Philip Michael.

Auntie Mabel has finally found a flat at 5, St Lawrence Close, Pudsey. Ally and I went to see her, in driving rain, after depositing her luggage at Club St. It's a decent flat with only one drawback, a tiny bath designed for a dwarf. Cousin Jackie was there, and Marlene and Frank were beavering around with paint brushes and rolls of wallpaper.

Home at 7. Fish and chips. We had every intention of going out, but I had an attack of diarrhoea. Susan suggested I might be going into labour.

-=-

Sunday August 10, 1980

_. 10th Sunday after Trinity

End of our holiday. Spent an hour packing my suitcase and clearing the room. We deposited our luggage in reception and went to a bar where I made the mistake of eating grilled prawns in garlic. For the rest of the day I was ostracised.

We left for Ibiza airport at about 5 and flew at something in the vicinity of 7. Back at the Hollywood at 10 gasping for a drink. Surprised to see Lynn and Dave there. They had thoughtfully driven over to give Ally and I a lift back to Guiseley. Left for home after 12. On the drive home Lynn filled us in on two weeks news including the Chippy trauma. Mum and Dad were in bed but we went in for a chat.

-=-

Saturday August 9, 1980

_. On San Antonio beach until 6. Party in room 305 until after 10. A wild, hilarious party. Dave and I wore bright nail polish, and we went out wearing the outfits with stuffed birds stitched to the shoulders. In the square the bandit photographer with the chimpanzee told me that my birds are more eye catching than his pathetic animal. To the OK Coral with tits [birds] and nails. They all ate but I had gin and tonic instead. To Chac Mool - seething, then Nito's and home at 5am. I took a dip in the pool with some Germans, and Ally persuaded me to get out.

-=-

Friday August 8, 1980

Hot. On San Antonio beach from 9am until 6:30. Out on pedalos with Ally, Sue and Pete. Read Agatha's Christie's 'Murder in the Mew', and the book was soggy from my perspiration. Out on the town as bloody usual. Back to the hotel at 2am due to lack of ideas.

-=-

Thursday August 7, 1980

_. Up at 10:30. To Cala Bassa for the afternoon. Ally sat on the ferry reading 'Death on the Nile' by Agatha Christie.

On the beach, burning sand, Ally decided to 'get drunk' and the gin and lemon began to flow. I stuck to orange juice. Poor Garry returned to the hotel in pain with his blisters, poor sod. I was reading, and looking up I saw Ally had gone, and was bobbing around far out to sea. I swam out to her and she was desperately trying to stand up, and couldn't understand why. She was in 30ft of sea water. That's gin for you.

Out tonight with Ally, Dave and Garry. Had chicken and chips outside a cafe. To Pete's Bar, the stifling Project Bar, Flash Bar, then Nito's until 5am.  Ally caught sight of a very large lizard basking on a white painted wall.

-=-

Wednesday August 6, 1980

_. Out at 8:30 after breakfast taking bread rolls to feed the fish at the bar near the Hawaii Hotel.

On San Antonio beach all day.

To Pinocchio's again. Then to Peter's bar [the guy who owns Nito's]. Blackbeard's for the traditional gin and tonic, then the Project Bar seething with posing Scandinavians. Only half of them were actually drinking. We returned to the Es Pla at 1 leaving Dave and Garry to the vices of San Antonio night life.

-=-

Tuesday August 5, 1980

_. Ally and Garry are blistered, quite terribly, and so we resolve to avoid the sun and take a day off. To a bar in close proximity to the hotel with a copy of the Daily Telegraph. The strain was too much and so we returned to the hotel and slept all afternoon.

Tonight: to Pinocchio's for lasagne and wine where we sat under a fan gasping for air. On to Los Gatos but we were overcome by the nauseating stench of a passing refuse lorry. On to Es Reco, El Capone's [which is now a dump and where the police sit every night waiting for English hooligans to start fighting]. Then to the faithful Project Bar and the Playboy Club [with just Ally, and oh the coolness of this class disco]. On to the Extasis until 5am where I danced about to the Rolling Stones. Out of the club to the beach and at 6am had a dip in the Med. Back to the Es Pla for breakfast at 7:30, where we sat giggling at some elderly Scots ordering boiled eggs, very loudly, shouting 'four minutes, not three' to the waitress.

-=-

Monday August 4, 1980

_. Bank Holiday in Scotland and Irish Republic

We are all blistered and glowing like leppers. The 80th birthday of HM Queen Elizabeth The Queen Mother. Up at 10:30 and take a ferry to Port Des Torrent for the day. Since last Monday the ladies have been topless on the sands. No one was more taken aback than I. It all started when a strap off Susan's bikini burst and became impossible to wear. So both girls, in a theatrical flourish, cast caution to the wind, or should I say sun?, and stripped to the waist. It's very much the done thing here. Naked bodies everywhere. The only problem is I shall have to buy a photo album with a lock and key.

Tonight Ally and I went with Dave and Garry to Nito's. Peter [the owner] bought us drinks and treated us like personal guests. David's charisma.

-=-

Sunday August 3, 1980

_.9th Sunday after Trinity

The 26th birthday of Mr David Glynn. Ally and I were up early and out into a steaming San Antonio, making our way past the Extasis Club, climbing over recumbent figures 'sleeping it off', to a patisserie where we bought six disgustingly large cream cakes and a bottle of bubbly. Back at the Es Pla we found the honeymooners, and then broke into Dave's room, showering him and Garry with bubbly, confetti and cream. We serenaded a red faced Dave, who was quite taken aback. Garry was hungover from a night at Nito's, and cowered 'neath his sheets.

Out to the beach near the Hawaii [again]. Clowned around in the sand. Ate more spaghetti. A most pleasant breeze fanned us down the beach. We larked about in beer and sand until about 7. I weakened and bought a copy of The Times. Laid on my sun lounger swigging beer & reading about E.M. Forster.

-=-

Saturday August 2, 1980

On the town....

_. On the beach all day near the Hotel Hawaii. Out to dinner, but too hot to eat. No appetite. Ally and Sue had a smelly paella. Back to the Es Pla at 12. Disgracefully early. Couldn't sleep because a diabolical band was playing by the pool and masses of geriatrics were waltzing and doing the samba into the small hours. It was like sleeping with Vince Hill. Her could have been in bed with us.

-=-

Sleeping with Vince

Friday August 1, 1980

Up at 9:15. To the beach. Devoured spaghetti. Ally and I ignored food tonight and went to Blackbeard's whilst the others found a restaurant and behaved sensibly. Very romantic tonight, with the help of a vast quantity of gin. On to the Project Bar, where I am reported to have danced on a table top with my trousers rolled up to my knees. Back at the Es Pla, overcome with the heat, I dragged the bed onto the balcony.

-=-

Thursday July 31, 1980

Balcony party ....

_. Pissed. We had a party on the balcony of 305 after a day on the beach at Cala Conta. We spent 880 pesetas on booze and the atmosphere was merry. Garry enjoys the bedroom drinks more than anything.

Out to the Project Bar, Blackbeard's - sloshed. The English couple who own Blackbeard's Bar moved in back in 1961, when only six hotels existed on the island. In fact they were here before the waters of the Mediterranean lapped warmly against her craggy reaches.

The town seems much more crowded this year. Rick is keeping a low profile. Age must be creeping up on him.

-=-

Wednesday July 30, 1980

_. Went with much complaining from Sue and Ally to the beach at San Antonio beyond the jetty.

Beans on toast for breakfast, 'neath the blazing sun.

Drank Carlsberg lager in a cool bar, and returned to the hotel knackered at about 5pm.

Slept at the hotel until 7. Tonight to Los Gatos, Blackbeard's Bar, the Project Bar. Back to the hotel at 2am.

-=-