_.3rd Sunday in Lent
Up at 9. The cupboard was bare and so Ally and I had pea and ham soup, followed by toast, for breakfast. Ally went off to the Belfry at 10:30 and I came home on a bus and to a second more traditional breakfast with Mama and Papa. I went out to do some work in the back garden. Mr Howard, the chap over the fence at the bottom of the garden, was busily erecting something resembling a nuclear fall-out shelter. He's obviously disturbed by the recent goings on in Afghanistan.
Ally came over at about 7:30 and we went to the Fox, then the Crown at Yeadon where we encountered Philip Knowles. Then to to the White Cross. In came Martyn, Pete M and Chris R. Had such a laugh with Dave Wainwright and Gus.
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20200419
Saturday March 8, 1980
_. David B is 24 today. I pottered around in the garden for a couple of hours until Ally came at about 12. I was delighted to receive a cheque for £19.45 from the YP for my occasional tips and contributions. How wonderful. I think I have Bob Cockroft to thank for this.
Ally and I went to Burley at lunchtime where Dave gave up his birthday to work on her ailing car. I gave Lynn the £10 I owe her. I also gave her a Wedgwood plate found in a recent sale. They have bought a car from Dave's workmate Gerry. Others arrived. Richard and Mandy Baker and Chris B and Julie Harris.
Later Lynn and Dave went to the Hare & Hounds for dinner. Mum, Dad, Sue and Pete dined at Giovanni's. Ally and I went to the White Cross where we found Jim and Margaret, pissed, after a wedding. Martyn and Pete M came. I was told I look 'smooth' whatever that might mean.
Then, to Lidget Green.
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Ally and I went to Burley at lunchtime where Dave gave up his birthday to work on her ailing car. I gave Lynn the £10 I owe her. I also gave her a Wedgwood plate found in a recent sale. They have bought a car from Dave's workmate Gerry. Others arrived. Richard and Mandy Baker and Chris B and Julie Harris.
Later Lynn and Dave went to the Hare & Hounds for dinner. Mum, Dad, Sue and Pete dined at Giovanni's. Ally and I went to the White Cross where we found Jim and Margaret, pissed, after a wedding. Martyn and Pete M came. I was told I look 'smooth' whatever that might mean.
Then, to Lidget Green.
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Friday March 7, 1980
_. When my eyes opened I had that feeling that it was late. The noise outside was something of a give away. Ally was unconcerned. I shot downstairs clad only in my undies and shrieked with horror at the clock. It was 9:15. David was similarly distressed. He was supposed to be at a meeting in Manchester at 10. What should he tell his boss at Thompson & Spencer's? I came up with a plan. The house was raided by a gang of robbers last night. We were all bound hand and foot and unable to free ourselves. Dramatic, yes, but would it work? Dave wasn't convinced.
Ally and I fled from the house and I got a bus to Leeds. The bus took the scenic route and we saw the swans on the Wharfe at Pool. I was only half dressed and drained of colour. Walked into the office at 10:30. Like a zombie. I did manage to do some work.
At 1pm I went over to Len's Bar to meet Delia who I haven't seen since Christmas. We sat on a Chesterfield sofa, but I thought I might be sick all over her. Delia was on top form, dressed in her very best 'WI look' and with a new sweeping hair do which does her no justice. She snorted with laughter at a man in the bar with an artificial leg, which was very cruel of her don't you think? Sarah was in a vile mood and disappeared to Marks and Spencer's. Delia kissed me when she left, but said that perhaps we ought not to have met. I must have looked dreadful. Back at the YP I found a spot behind a filing cabinet [the African countries M-Z] knowing I'd be left to sleep for an hour.
Home at 5. Bed at 11 like a cabbage.
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Ally and I fled from the house and I got a bus to Leeds. The bus took the scenic route and we saw the swans on the Wharfe at Pool. I was only half dressed and drained of colour. Walked into the office at 10:30. Like a zombie. I did manage to do some work.
At 1pm I went over to Len's Bar to meet Delia who I haven't seen since Christmas. We sat on a Chesterfield sofa, but I thought I might be sick all over her. Delia was on top form, dressed in her very best 'WI look' and with a new sweeping hair do which does her no justice. She snorted with laughter at a man in the bar with an artificial leg, which was very cruel of her don't you think? Sarah was in a vile mood and disappeared to Marks and Spencer's. Delia kissed me when she left, but said that perhaps we ought not to have met. I must have looked dreadful. Back at the YP I found a spot behind a filing cabinet [the African countries M-Z] knowing I'd be left to sleep for an hour.
Home at 5. Bed at 11 like a cabbage.
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Thursday March 6, 1980
_. Sweet Lynn is 22 today. I phoned her at her office and I felt the glow coming down the wires.
We do little else in the office but laugh about President Tito. We've studied the headlines carried in the YP since January relating to the sturdy, little Yugoslav leader. On January 4 he was in hospital having the blood vessels in his leg examined, on Jan 8 he saw his top aides and on Jan 14 he was 'better' after surgery for a blood clot, on Jan 15 'Fears growing after surgery', Jan 16 'Tito alarm puts nation on guard', Jan 18 he was 'Fighting for his life', Jan 19 'Tito fighting gangrene', Jan 21 'Tito loses leg', but looking up on Jan 22 'Tito better', Jan 23 'Tito for comeback', by Jan 25 it was 'Tito back to work', so much so that by Jan 28 we saw 'Tito checking defence moves'. Sadly, on Feb 11 'Tito develops kidney and digestion problems', then on February 12 'Tito's heart weakens', Feb 14 'Tito fading', 'Tito sinking', 'Tito in coma', but February 19 'Tito fighting on', Feb 21 'Battling Tito feels better', Feb 23 'Tito kept alive by kidney machine', Feb 27 'Tito weakening', Feb 28 'Tito still grave', Feb 29 'Tito sinking fast', March 1 'Tito failing', March 3 'Tito still weakening', March 4 'Tito still grave', March 5 'Tito still responding', March 6 'Tito stays stable'. Bloody Hell, at this rate I fully expect the old boy to represent Yugoslavia in the boxing at the Moscow Olympics.
At lunchtime I went to buy Lynn and David's birthday presents. I purchased a Camel cigarette mirror for £6.50 and an old 'Victor Gas' geyser instructions sign that I know they will appreciate. They'll look very well on the bathroom wall.
Home at 5. Splashed around in a steaming bath. Ally arrived in her rusting sports car. To dinner at Lawn Rd with Mum, Dad, Sue, Pete, Jim, Margaret, and Julie N. Dave looked pale and was wearing his specs. I took up my usual position in the kitchen clutching a glass of Scotch. Lynn has an eccentric and peculiar taste in music and we had to endure Dame Gracie Fields warbling party songs. They all left in the early hours but Ally and I stayed until morning. We did giggle. The beds at Lawn Rd are always freezing.
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 |
| Tito: sinking fast |
At lunchtime I went to buy Lynn and David's birthday presents. I purchased a Camel cigarette mirror for £6.50 and an old 'Victor Gas' geyser instructions sign that I know they will appreciate. They'll look very well on the bathroom wall.
Home at 5. Splashed around in a steaming bath. Ally arrived in her rusting sports car. To dinner at Lawn Rd with Mum, Dad, Sue, Pete, Jim, Margaret, and Julie N. Dave looked pale and was wearing his specs. I took up my usual position in the kitchen clutching a glass of Scotch. Lynn has an eccentric and peculiar taste in music and we had to endure Dame Gracie Fields warbling party songs. They all left in the early hours but Ally and I stayed until morning. We did giggle. The beds at Lawn Rd are always freezing.
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Wednesday March 5, 1980
_. Phoned Ally this morning. She complains of a blister on her lip and thinks she now resembles something a combination of Oliver Cromwell and the Phantom of the Opera. I was in no position to tell her otherwise.
The mood at the YP not much better either. Sarah was down in the dumps following her monthly 'full moon' argument with Mr Burke, and doubly morose because of the silence and halting of communications from the mega-star rugby player John Holmes.
We are lunching with Auntie Delia at Len's on Friday. I look upon Delia Collis as something of a legend. I'm sure she would love me to play Roddy Llewellyn to her Princess Margaret.
At lunchtime I bought Lynn a birthday card. A 12p stamp saw it on its way to Burley-in-W. The poor thing is 22. Lynn, I think, was born at 2:30am, and according to Mama it snowed heavily on that wintry night in 1958. One of my first memories is of that morning, with John, peeping into the cradle next to Mum's bed, at the baby clad in pink.
Watched Michael Parkinson. He interviewed Wayne Sleep.
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The mood at the YP not much better either. Sarah was down in the dumps following her monthly 'full moon' argument with Mr Burke, and doubly morose because of the silence and halting of communications from the mega-star rugby player John Holmes.
We are lunching with Auntie Delia at Len's on Friday. I look upon Delia Collis as something of a legend. I'm sure she would love me to play Roddy Llewellyn to her Princess Margaret.
At lunchtime I bought Lynn a birthday card. A 12p stamp saw it on its way to Burley-in-W. The poor thing is 22. Lynn, I think, was born at 2:30am, and according to Mama it snowed heavily on that wintry night in 1958. One of my first memories is of that morning, with John, peeping into the cradle next to Mum's bed, at the baby clad in pink.
Watched Michael Parkinson. He interviewed Wayne Sleep.
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Tuesday March 4, 1980
 |
| Mugabe: slithered into power. |
Did a little more painting. Sue and Pete have seen a solicitor about 23, West End Terrace. It is almost signed and sealed.
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Monday March 3, 1980
_. I moved back into my newly decorated bedroom. I must say the whole thing looks wonderful. Like bathing inside a chocolate Easter egg, with a sheen resembling the glow of Muhammad Ali's backside. Yes, a peculiar description but I can think of nothing better. Blimey, I'm no W.H. Auden, speaking of which, didn't he have a craggy face like Gordale Scar? Or was that E.M. Forster? I'm not too clever when it comes to poets. Rupert Brooke, I know a bit about him, but if you ask me poets are just novelists who decide to take the easy way out. This modern stuff is the biggest con inflicted on the literary world. The literature, art, architecture - you name it - of today is all diabolical. In one hundred years time what, other than this journal, will be looked upon as a worthwhile contribution to the artistic life of the late 20th century? What will the Japanese be flocking to our shores to photograph in say 2080? Obviously, the grandson of the current Prince of Wales will be drawing the crowds on Horse Guards Parade, in the way that Elizabeth II does today, but what else? I am not academic at the Henley Centre for Forecasting, but I'd say the prospects are gloomy. Am I going to end my life in a trench, like so many millions did in 1914-18?
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Sunday March 2, 1980
_. 2nd Sunday in Lent
Ally left at 9 in a sickly stupor to Bradford and I continued painting.
Ally came here at 7:30 breaking the law driving the disintegrating spitfire. We went off to Skipton and beyond, but on reaching Kettlewell the petrol gauge stood at nil. I was far from pleased, with the prospect of night drawing in and the knowledge that the locals in this remote backwater are not known for their friendly hospitality. Ally sat giggling, shrugging her shoulders in that annoying way, and we went in search of a petrol station. At 7 we were sitting in front of the Devonshire Arms at Cracoe waiting for the doors to open. We were first in and soon joined by Sue and Pete. We ordered basket meals, scampi, haddock, fried chicken, &c. Then on to a pub in Skipton.
The Observer was lying open on the dining table. Nib: The Duchess of Gloucester gave birth to a daughter yesterday.
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Ally left at 9 in a sickly stupor to Bradford and I continued painting.
Ally came here at 7:30 breaking the law driving the disintegrating spitfire. We went off to Skipton and beyond, but on reaching Kettlewell the petrol gauge stood at nil. I was far from pleased, with the prospect of night drawing in and the knowledge that the locals in this remote backwater are not known for their friendly hospitality. Ally sat giggling, shrugging her shoulders in that annoying way, and we went in search of a petrol station. At 7 we were sitting in front of the Devonshire Arms at Cracoe waiting for the doors to open. We were first in and soon joined by Sue and Pete. We ordered basket meals, scampi, haddock, fried chicken, &c. Then on to a pub in Skipton.
The Observer was lying open on the dining table. Nib: The Duchess of Gloucester gave birth to a daughter yesterday.
-=-
Saturday March 1, 1980
_. St David's Day
Up at 10:30. Painting my bedroom. Wasn't planning on going to Tony Green's leaving party but then Sarah phoned 'Oh what fun it will be' she squealed. So half an hour later I was hot footing it down the lane, the prospect of a delightful binge ahead. To the Eagle on North Street for 1:20, joined Sarah, Carol J, Lynne Bateson, and a multitude of revellers. The Timothy Taylor's bitter soon took effect and I was soon slobbering over the comely Carol J, taking drags of her cigarettes. Carol, in recent weeks, has diminished at a phenomenal rate. The weight has fallen off. Was it the beer, or has she taken on a Raquel Welch-like aura? Sarah and [John] MacMurray left us to go 'the match', whatever that meant, and I was left to the delights of Carol J.
At 3 Carol drove Lynne B and I to Lynne's house in Horsforth where we slumped in armchairs downing whisky and dry Martini with 'earfulls' of Diana Ross. Home with Carol at nearly 5. Pissed. Sat eating a blurred lettuce. Ally came over at 7:30 and we drove over in the spitfire to meet Lynne B, and in contravention of several road traffic acts. To the Queen's on Town Street in Horsforth, then back to Lynne B's. At about 11 Ally passed out on Lynne's bed. If I'd been sober I might have felt a twinge of embarrassment, but I wasn't.
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Up at 10:30. Painting my bedroom. Wasn't planning on going to Tony Green's leaving party but then Sarah phoned 'Oh what fun it will be' she squealed. So half an hour later I was hot footing it down the lane, the prospect of a delightful binge ahead. To the Eagle on North Street for 1:20, joined Sarah, Carol J, Lynne Bateson, and a multitude of revellers. The Timothy Taylor's bitter soon took effect and I was soon slobbering over the comely Carol J, taking drags of her cigarettes. Carol, in recent weeks, has diminished at a phenomenal rate. The weight has fallen off. Was it the beer, or has she taken on a Raquel Welch-like aura? Sarah and [John] MacMurray left us to go 'the match', whatever that meant, and I was left to the delights of Carol J.
At 3 Carol drove Lynne B and I to Lynne's house in Horsforth where we slumped in armchairs downing whisky and dry Martini with 'earfulls' of Diana Ross. Home with Carol at nearly 5. Pissed. Sat eating a blurred lettuce. Ally came over at 7:30 and we drove over in the spitfire to meet Lynne B, and in contravention of several road traffic acts. To the Queen's on Town Street in Horsforth, then back to Lynne B's. At about 11 Ally passed out on Lynne's bed. If I'd been sober I might have felt a twinge of embarrassment, but I wasn't.
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Friday February 29, 1980
_. Pleasurable entertainment at lunchtime. To Len's Bar with Sarah.
Mum's car conked out on her today at the top of Thorpe Lane. She had been to Burley-in-W to see Lynn for the afternoon.
With Sue and Pete to Morrison's this evening. Spent £10 on paint. Afterwards we took one solitary drink in the Oddfellows, a pub I have never previously visited. At 8 it was back to my bedroom where, with the assistance of Lawrie, I slapped chocolate coloured paint over my bedroom walls until about 10.
Later watched the grotesque Joan Collins in a film. She always makes the most dreadful tosh.
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Mum's car conked out on her today at the top of Thorpe Lane. She had been to Burley-in-W to see Lynn for the afternoon.
With Sue and Pete to Morrison's this evening. Spent £10 on paint. Afterwards we took one solitary drink in the Oddfellows, a pub I have never previously visited. At 8 it was back to my bedroom where, with the assistance of Lawrie, I slapped chocolate coloured paint over my bedroom walls until about 10.
Later watched the grotesque Joan Collins in a film. She always makes the most dreadful tosh.
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Thursday February 28, 1980
_. At 7:30 I went to Lidget Green and Ally and I went to 'Mucky Willie's'. Back to Slumber Cottage at 10:30. Ally's feather pillows almost sent me to an early tomb.
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Wednesday February 27, 1980
_. Cooped up at the YP until I made my escape at 4:30. My heart wasn't into decorating tonight and after just a splash of paint here, and a dab there, I cast down the paint brush.
Poor Ally. Her car has failed its MOT and the licensed bandit at her garage has informed her that she will receive no change out of £100 to put things right. She is destitute and will probably have to sell.
John phoned from a Scottish disco at 10:30 to say he hasn't lost his job after all. His boss approached him today to say they have a contract for a further years work and asked him to stay on. This is a relief to everyone. I miss John one hell of a lot.
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Poor Ally. Her car has failed its MOT and the licensed bandit at her garage has informed her that she will receive no change out of £100 to put things right. She is destitute and will probably have to sell.
John phoned from a Scottish disco at 10:30 to say he hasn't lost his job after all. His boss approached him today to say they have a contract for a further years work and asked him to stay on. This is a relief to everyone. I miss John one hell of a lot.
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Tuesday February 26, 1980
_. An evening of activity. I ransacked my bedroom and painted a wall. It has been green since September 18, 1976. This bedroom has been a wonderful refuge for me down the years since John left home and I was allotted this excuse for a cupboard. Often I wake up bathed in a deep green light, like Neptune. Slapping white paint over the emerald glow wasn't as difficult as I imagined it would be. Neither did it jerk the heart strings. Within a matter of minutes my watery ocean-like room was transformed into something monastic. The green aqua effect has down the years resulted in me taking on a fish-like capacity for drink. Perhaps now I'll become more like St Francis of Assisi.
Susan and Peter have almost pulled it off. Buying a house that is. Their new home is to be at 23, West End Terrace, Guiseley. Spooky that. She was born at number 23, Market Square.
Slept downstairs like a Kampuchean refugee because of the wet paint.
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Susan and Peter have almost pulled it off. Buying a house that is. Their new home is to be at 23, West End Terrace, Guiseley. Spooky that. She was born at number 23, Market Square.
Slept downstairs like a Kampuchean refugee because of the wet paint.
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Monday February 25, 1980
_. Rain. I have mislaid my umbrella. I left it on the bus on Friday evening and as you'll expect it pissed down as though the world might end today.
Glynnie phoned and I told him about Pete's party on March 20. His new girlfriend is called Karen and she plays darts for Cheshire. They are going to Leicester on Saturday to a tournament. The image of a female arrow thrower doesn't conjure up a vision of Helen of Troy, but instead one thinks of a large, plain, buxom maiden with a flowery vocabulary and a large capacity for hand pulled ale. Let us hope I am wrong. Glynnie said he would have brought her to Grassington next month but she will be away in Switzerland.
The United States presidential election is on my my mind tonight. A revolting man called Bush has been prancing around in New Hampshire, in a swaggering fashion. The man is a Republican, and so I say 'VOTE VOTE VOTE REAGAN'. Yes, the former Lone Ranger, with dyed hair and a limp is the man for me. Kennedy has flopped and Jimmy Carter is romping home whilst doing absolutely nothing. He can thank the Russians for his good fortune.
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Glynnie phoned and I told him about Pete's party on March 20. His new girlfriend is called Karen and she plays darts for Cheshire. They are going to Leicester on Saturday to a tournament. The image of a female arrow thrower doesn't conjure up a vision of Helen of Troy, but instead one thinks of a large, plain, buxom maiden with a flowery vocabulary and a large capacity for hand pulled ale. Let us hope I am wrong. Glynnie said he would have brought her to Grassington next month but she will be away in Switzerland.
 |
| Bush: prancing |
The United States presidential election is on my my mind tonight. A revolting man called Bush has been prancing around in New Hampshire, in a swaggering fashion. The man is a Republican, and so I say 'VOTE VOTE VOTE REAGAN'. Yes, the former Lone Ranger, with dyed hair and a limp is the man for me. Kennedy has flopped and Jimmy Carter is romping home whilst doing absolutely nothing. He can thank the Russians for his good fortune.
-=-
Sunday February 24, 1980
_. 1st Sunday in Lent
Ally was up and out to Lidget Green. She left me a note [here preserved for posterity]. I slept until 11:30 and then went into the garden in wellies and leather gloves to attack the remaining living rose trees.
Watched a Sunday afternoon film on the TV. One of those where Gregory Peck comes over here to save us from the nasty Hitler. Dad was at the table typing out death warrants and summonses, and Mum was knitting clothes for Catherine. A domestic scene.
Ally came at 7:30. We went to the Fox and Hounds, the Drop and the White Cross, the latter still not restored to full power following the recent fracas.
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Ally was up and out to Lidget Green. She left me a note [here preserved for posterity]. I slept until 11:30 and then went into the garden in wellies and leather gloves to attack the remaining living rose trees.
Watched a Sunday afternoon film on the TV. One of those where Gregory Peck comes over here to save us from the nasty Hitler. Dad was at the table typing out death warrants and summonses, and Mum was knitting clothes for Catherine. A domestic scene.
Ally came at 7:30. We went to the Fox and Hounds, the Drop and the White Cross, the latter still not restored to full power following the recent fracas.
-=-
Saturday February 23, 1980
_. I was up at 11:30 or 12 and after fried eggs and bacon I took up the shears and set about the rose trees in the garden. Dad was astonished at this because my Percy Thrower activities have been infrequent.
Horrific news from Scotland. John has been given a week's notice and he finishes with Robinson and Davidson on Friday. He isn't surprised because work has been very thin on the ground recently. He has applied for a job as a policeman at Stranraer docks. The ladies of the family went into their usual hysterics at this news. Mothers says he should never have gone there in the first place, and Lynn arrived proclaiming she had burst into tears at the news. 'The poor children will starve!' I am more optimistic. John always lands on his feet.
Foggy night. Out with Ally and Dave L to the Fox at Menston and the Albert Inn, for Dave's cockles and mussels, and finally to the Clothiers. A pleasant night. A merry trio. Afterwards we went into a fish and chip shop where a 15 year-old brat pushed his way to the front of the queue, which triggered off a fight of Afghanistan proportions. David, in the jostling that followed exclaimed: 'I know you can have scraps with your fish and chips, but this is ridiculous.' We sat at ate in Dave's car.
Ally and I returned to Pine Tops. Sat listening to Rachmaninov. Mum and Dad came back late from dinner at Jim and Margaret's.
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Horrific news from Scotland. John has been given a week's notice and he finishes with Robinson and Davidson on Friday. He isn't surprised because work has been very thin on the ground recently. He has applied for a job as a policeman at Stranraer docks. The ladies of the family went into their usual hysterics at this news. Mothers says he should never have gone there in the first place, and Lynn arrived proclaiming she had burst into tears at the news. 'The poor children will starve!' I am more optimistic. John always lands on his feet.
Foggy night. Out with Ally and Dave L to the Fox at Menston and the Albert Inn, for Dave's cockles and mussels, and finally to the Clothiers. A pleasant night. A merry trio. Afterwards we went into a fish and chip shop where a 15 year-old brat pushed his way to the front of the queue, which triggered off a fight of Afghanistan proportions. David, in the jostling that followed exclaimed: 'I know you can have scraps with your fish and chips, but this is ridiculous.' We sat at ate in Dave's car.
Ally and I returned to Pine Tops. Sat listening to Rachmaninov. Mum and Dad came back late from dinner at Jim and Margaret's.
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Wednesday May 9, 1984
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