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.

-=-