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.

-=-