Monday December 22, 1980

 _. Ally had another 'fuddle' at Mamma Mia's. I took an early lunch at 11 to avoid the crowds and bought a hanging basket for Ally, then returned to the office bemoaning a lack of finances.

The Press today is silent on Lady Diana, but a steady flow of photos from different agencies show that some organs of the media expect HM to announce Wales's engagement in her Christmas broadcast. Fools that they are.

Later Ally came to Pine Tops like Santa Claus bearing whisky and rum and we sat by a roaring TV with Mama and Papa.

Ally is such a little belter. Whatever did I do in the days before she appeared?

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Sunday December 21, 1980

 _.4th Sunday in Advent

Day of recuperation. Ally and I watched 'The Wizard of Oz' on the BBC. Amazingly enough, she's never seen it. Judy Garland is horrible. I cannot see how 36 men happened to fall in love with her and marry her.

Question: Why is it that since visiting the dentist three weeks ago I've had nothing but trouble from a newly filled tooth which previous gave me nothing but loyal, painless service and selfless satisfaction? Could it be that Hough's successor is a butcher? Thinking now of Laurence Olivier attacking Dustin Hoffman in 'The Marathon Man'. Ghastly.

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Saturday December 20, 1980

 _. To Bingley Christmas shopping this morning. 

Lazenby's party at Park Rd. Ally and I began at the New Inn, packed with juveniles covered in shaving foam and behaving like third formers. Come to think of it, I'm usually covered in shaving foam and behaving like a third former which means a) I'm getting old, b) I'm out of shaving foam, or c) I've stopped shaving.

Previously in the day Ally and I joined Mama and Papa at Sue and Pete's for drinks at West End Terrace. [I have made a hash of today's journal entry. It's all back to front and upside down].

Needless to say, Lazenby's party was tremendous. Not as packed as last year, but excellent all the same. Bob Schofield insisted on bringing his dog, and a huge joint of roast beef in garlic appeared. Ally was certain that an old friend of mine [who I only tend to see once a year on this festive night] is in fact the Yorkshire Ripper. Jack [the Ripper] has done for Yorkshire what Leonard Cheshire did for Nagasaki.

Home at almost 8am. Ally was exhausted, even tearful.

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Friday December 19, 1980

 _. Over to Ally's at 6 and straight out to Mamma Mia's pizzeria on Manningham Lane for a naughty Italian dinner [naughty, owing to the fact we have little spare money, and Ally is writing cheques like no tomorrow]. After piping hot lasagne we went on to the Bod and then back to Rue Club for the night. Is Yuletide here?

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Thursday December 18, 1980

 _. Pay day. To the Drop with Ally and then the New Inn where we 'accidentally' meet Sue, Audrey and the diminutive Christine. Quite boozed up. At home for 11. Jim and Margaret and Lynn [no Dave, he was out working] were making merry. Lynn expands daily. Spend hours persuading Mum and Dad to take a pub, but somehow I cannot see it coming off. Is Papa 'cut out' for the pub landlord role? Methinks he is far too argumentative and intolerant for such a vital PR existence.

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Wednesday December 17, 1980

 _. Nothing to report. Didn't see Ally. I miss her presence. Three days apart, in love, is a long time. 

Still pouring over Parson Woodforde's journal, made all the more interesting by Papa who says he's visited many of the Norfolk villages mentioned by Woodforde. Dad says that some of the pubs visited by Woodforde are still in existence. Also read Hardy. [The Book is upstairs and I can't be bothered going up for it to tell you the title].

Later, upstairs: The book is 'Desperate Remedies'.

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Tuesday December 16, 1980

 _. Warm day for the time of year, don't you think? Certain organs allegedly reporting the meteorological office say we are in for a 'White Christmas'. The last serious white Christmas was in 1970. John and I were doing paper rounds for James Bywater at the Quality House newsagent. We both fell off our bicycles in the ice on Hillway, Tranmere Park. Mum, that year, had a large party at which both Wilson and Rhodes relatives flocked. It was one of the last times I saw my cousin Sam. Uncle Harry and Mavis split up in February '71, and I haven't laid eyes on her since. Where is Uncle H? I really do miss him.

Busy day. No Kathleen. Sarah took a half-day. Spent the afternoon typing up the files of Foot's Shadow Cabinet appointments. I shudder at the thought of what damage this mob could do if they ever found office. Anthony Wedgwood Benn is conspicuous by his absence and I'm very easy uneasy about this. Like a phoenix he'll rise again. Most of Foot's appointments appear to be Welshmen. Will they LEEK some of Labour's secrets to the press? [Geddit?]

Spoke twice to Ally after work. I phoned her at 7 and she rang me at 8:30 to tell me that she had just heard on the radio that the Prince of Wales has taken up residence at Highgrove. At the mention of Buckingham Palace poor Ally almost fainted with expectancy thinking it was the engagement to Lady D.F.S.

Sat with Mum until Dad came in off duty at 10. She is sick and tired of his unsociable hours of work. They both pray for September 1982, when he retires. 

In the news: 48 million IRA prisoners in Ulster are starving themselves to death because Mrs Thatcher has refused to give them the status of political prisoners. Let them die, that's what I say. The penultimate Duke of Portland has died only to be succeeded by his 83 year-old kid brother. Not a healthy situation.

To bed at 11:45 with Thomas Hardy.

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Monday December 15, 1980

_. Jim R took me to Leeds with the ever increasingly silent Jennie. He gave me a paperback copy of the Diary of James Woodforde, covering a forty year period 1758-1802. Fascinating. In 2155 will this, my journal, be in print perhaps?

A day of breathless excitement. The Guardian carried a front page piece claiming that the Prince of Wales, fresh back from the Himalayas, is about to announce his engagement to Lady Diana Spencer. Derek Foster, the YP News editor, latches onto this, and prepares the way for the YP to follow on. Derek Foster,  a quiet and careful man doesn't do something on a groundless or flimsy base. The Guardian article actually said that the Queen wants to announce the forthcoming nuptials in her Christmas broadcast, but has been advised against this course because no newspapers are published until Dec 27. No. A Christmas announcement doesn't ring true. Big announcements are never made over Yuletide. All afternoon we await a royal announcement, but at 6 I left the office disappointed. 

Spoke to Ally several times. I might be going to Winchester for the New Year. I don't think Mother will like this.

Watched 'Not the Nine O'clock News', which was poor. Bed with Parson Woodforde and Thomas Hardy at 11:45pm.

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Sunday December 14, 1980

_. 3rd Sunday in Advent

Uncle Tony is 45. Slept in the upper sitting room with Dave. Ally woke us at 12:15. Panic. We should have met the lads in the Nelson pub at noon. Frantic dressing. Drove into Stockport and met Billy Garry, Steve and John [the latter is due to become a father on Dec 31]. From the Nelson to the Robin Hood at 1pm. Unfortunately on this occasion the nature of our politics was not asked for and neither were we invited to remain after hours for a 'bona fide' session.

At 3 we had lunch at the Hollywood [the usual leg of lamb] and left at 4:30 returning to Bradford via Ally's old home at Grasscroft, near Dobcross. Home for 7 in time to observe 2 minutes silence for John Lennon. Even the Archbishop of Canterbury stood for a 'lone vigil' taking it a bit too far. 

One drink at the Drop, fish and chips from Westfield Fisheries, home at 9 to decorate the Christmas tree with Mum and Dad. They were drinking rum and orange celebrating the anniversary of their engagement [December 12, 1953]. Ally and I watched a film until 1, giggling like third formers. The room so fresh smelling of pine. Good old Prince Albert.

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Saturday December 13, 1980

_. Mum and Dad still feeling poorly today. At 11 Ally and I set out to Pudsey to pay a call on the other party-goers so brutally struck down. At Waterloo only Tim and Steve were in, and both were sick yesterday. The word diarrhoea was mentioned. After depositing our Christmas cards we left the house of misery and sought out Auntie Mabel at St Lawrence Close. She has shown no signs of food poisoning, and said that _____ made himself ill by the shear quantity he consumed. After a few minutes we left leaving her with Mark and Debbie.

On to Stockport at 1:30. A rogue rodent is causing havoc at the Hollywood Hotel and Dave has bought a kitten [and I name her Sybil]. Ally took an immediate liking to the creature which is odd because she generally loathes cats. Out at 7 to the Steak Kebabs restaurant in Didsbury. I ate an enormous T-bone [again], then we went on to to the Robin Hood until 1:15. The landlord had a 'lock in' after hours. At closing time he asked: 'Do you vote Labour?' When I responded: 'Of course we do' he allowed us to remain. Ally was on brilliant form showing Garry how to throw darts properly. Back to the Hollywood at 1:30. Ally played with Sybil, who clicked her dress. To bed with milky coffee.

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Friday December 12, 1980

_. A day of tranquil repose. Ally was up and off to work at 8 and I slept until she phoned me at 11:30. For a couple of hours I attempted to clean up some of the devastation but a pounding head made me give in at 1pm. Ally came home for lunch. I was slumped on the settee  getting an 'ear full' of Elgar's 'Enigma Variations'. She quickly had a salad and returned to her work at the AHA. I went back to bed until 4:30. I am so pleased I had the foresight to arrange a day off. No way could I have turned up at the YP.

We had a cosy tea together and out we went at 9 to the Belfry where she deposited her waitress uniform and collected £11 holiday pay. Chuffed to arseholes about this. On to a gay celebration in the New Inn. Our usual Friday evening burst of raucous pleasure. The regular inhabitants of Guiseley and Yeadon were making merry. Saw Dave Wainwright, Johnny, Ken, &c.

Ally has decided to throw a party on Boxing Day evening. That part of Christmas can become so boring. The turkey is gone, and the TV is spewing out old film after old film to a snoozing public. 

Home at 11:30. Mum and Dad have upset stomachs. What's worse is Hilda is suffering too. Ally immediately blames herself, and for a couple of hours I persuaded her not to.

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