20200601

Tuesday July 22, 1980

_. Hangover. A hot, muggy day. Felt horrible all day. To the YP until 12 and then came home and packed my suitcase for Sunday and tidied my room in readiness for Uncle Bert's occupation at the weekend. Sat over a salad crunching asprin and wondering why, oh why do I inflict this upon myself.

Heard with great sadness that Peter Sellers has suffered a severe heart attack in London. It seems unlikely that he'll recover from this one. The poor man's downfall has been beautiful women. They [his wives] have all been too young, energetic and beautiful.  Britt Ekland gave him his first hearty attack in '64 and now Lynne Frederick has caused this one. Perhaps the likes of Lady Isobel Barnett or Dame Margaret Rutherford might have proved more beneficial wives. Poor, poor man.

-=-


Monday July 21, 1980

_. Susan's 21st birthday. Sunny. Up at 7 for champagne with Sue in Mum & Dad's room. Mum gave her £21, but I didn't invest her with the camera until later.

To the YP with Jim R, minus his daughter, who has broken up until September.

Back tonight to a party, just our bunch plus the Nasons, Janet Simon and Robert. Something of a knees up. Sue looked radiant. Janet was hideously drunk, which angered Mama. We noshed and drank until about 3am. Ally and I [the survivors] cleared away the debris and carefully washed the Royal Albert china. I polished off the strawberries and cream as I lay in a heap on the floor.

To bed exhausted. Completely knackered.

-=-

Sunday July 20, 1980

_. 7th Sunday after Trinity

Did a bit of painting at West End Terrace, but the undercoat ran out after half an hour or so. Home at 2.

Delia came at 8:30 for a wedding flower discussion with Susan and Mama. She'll do just what she likes when all is said and done. The dogs [something illegible], as did Delia, who laid and lavished her gushing praises upon Papa with the technique of a master bricklayer. 'Oh, you look young enough to be the bridegroom'. She left at almost 10.

I went up to bed and found myself whistling a familiar tune, I think by Lohengrin. Now what was it? Tra la la la, Tra, la la la la la la la.

-=-

Saturday July 19, 1980

_. Saturday. Ally and I went with Lynn and Dave to Comet to buy Sue and Pete's wedding present - a little telly. £80 or thereabouts. A muggy day. Heavy rain too. I do hope that next Saturday is better.

Survivors from the stag party gathered at the Square and Compass. Dave W didn't come because of the state of his face. A very pleasant night. Gerald was positively charming. Debbie has had a great, mellowing influence on the boy. Saw Christine Braithwaite with Frank, her husband of a year. She looked different with a 'Moira Anderson' coiffeur. Marriage does funny things to people. I bet she now collects the avocado plastic buckets we used to joke about.

On afterwards to the 'Green Light' for a spectacular curry. Thank God our stomachs contain a strong solution of hydrochloric acid, eh?

-=-

Friday July 18, 1980

_. Pete's stag night, and Sue's hen night. I went at 7:30 with Dave L to the Shoulder and joined Pete, Chippy, Frank, Dave W, Dave B, Mick Hebden, Flu, John Sumpton, plus a throng of Monobond employees and other anonymous types. Thirty in all. We swilled ale until 11, spilling as much as we drank. A minor spot of violence occurred when Chippy punched Dave W in the mouth over a minor spillage. We all went on to Oakwood, except Dave L. The events at Oakwood I have forgotten. Pete, like something from a fairy tale, slept upon a sofa surrounded by well-made wenches drinking vodka and lime. Home at 2. I think we might now be excommunicated from the Shoulder.

-=-

Thursday July 17, 1980

_. Out with the boys. It was one of Pete's final single Thursdays when all's said and done. To the Shoulder of Mutton with Pete, Chippy, Dave W, and John Sumpton. We went back to Pine Tops after for the finale of the 'Jim and Margaret' night.

We squabbled about the age of Roger Moore, the actor. I claimed that he is almost 60, but on checking with the YP library [that bastion of knowledge] I was told he is only 52.

Wedding fever is upon is. Ding, bloody ding, bloody dong. My mother will miss Susan. The last girl in residence at Pine Tops and the baby of her brood. She [Mum] is to be left alone with Dad and I. Not a pretty thought.

-=-

Wednesday July 16, 1980

_. To West End Terrace. Uneventful and boring. Not feeling prolific. Sorry it's short. Too busy.

-=-

Tuesday July 15, 1980

_. Spent the morning from 10:15 watching the Queen Mother's birthday celebrations in London, on the BBC. She looked radiant and outshone all else at St Paul's. Nobody will ever replace the Queen Mother in our affections. She's unique. It annoyed me that the broadcaster Tom Fleming insisted on referring to the Prince of Wales as 'her favourite grandchild'. How does he know? The royal spectacular ended at 1:15 with a balcony appearance at Buckingham Palace where the jovial crowd sang 'For She's a Jolly Good Fellow'.

Ally and I went afterwards to the Fox to meet Mum and Dad who had collected Lynn and Dave from the airport at Yeadon. Both are beautifully tanned, but David has come back with a cold. Back at Pine Tops we had fish and chips, and afterwards opened a bottle of Cointreau. We drank the whole bottle.

Dad looked decidedly pale and took to his bed in the late afternoon. Ally and Lynn gave us a fashion show and paraded around in their bridesmaid dresses.

-=-

Monday July 14, 1980

_.Bastile Day

I'm going to be brief. Painted at West End Terrace again. Ally joined in the glossing marathon. The kitchen is almost finished and the house, at last, is nearly ready for habitation.

At home our TV is going funny. It's only a week old.

Ian Appleyard, my old schoolfriend, is 25 today. I recall a July 14 about ten years ago when Mr G.P. Illingworth, the headmaster at Guiseley Secondary School, asked the morning assembly what occurred of importance on this day in history. Amidst roars of laughter Ian put his hand up and said: 'yes, it's my birthday, Sir'.

Old Percy had wanted someone to say that upon this day in 1789 the revolting peasants stormed the Bastile, which triggered the French Revolution.

-=-

Wednesday May 9, 1984

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