Thursday October 16, 1980

_. I spoke to Dave G the other day, and forgot to mention. He's coming on Nov 1, with Garry, Billy and Steve. He had hoped to come tomorrow but the Duchess of Gloucester is making a visit to Stepping Hill Hospital and he has to be there to receive HRH. Poor woman.

Ally came here at 6:30 for fish fingers and three tons of potatoes. What will become of us? Ally looked good, with her hair sticking out in all directions. Half close your eyes, dim and lights and what do you have? Kate Bush.

An expanding Lynn and bad-tempered Dave came at 8:30 and we went to the Commercial, which is a hole. So boring. We sat eavesdropping on three middle-aged mothers on the next table discussing the trials and tribulations of Christmas shopping. On to the New Inn, where Lynn and Dave looked out of place. David insisted on referring to the place as a 'knocking shop'. The place is always full of ex-cons, but a Bohemian atmosphere prevailed throughout.

Home at 11. We sprawled on the dining room floor drinking wine and listening to Strauss until 2:30.

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Wednesday October 15, 1980

Sally Oppenheim: double life?

_. Sunny, Wednesday. James Callaghan is resigning as Labour leader to enable him to undergo treatment preparing for a sex-change operation after Christmas. It seems that for some years he's been enjoying a double life masquerading as both the bluff Left-wing Labour sea dog, and as the peroxide blond Sally Oppenheim, Minister for Prices and Consumer Affairs. You have never seen them in the same room together. He really had me fooled.

Ally arrived at 6 and we ate soup. [Or do you drink soup?] This was followed by fried liver and onions and mounds of chips. To much really. Spoke to Lynn, and arranged to go out with them tomorrow.

Later, the two of us took the couch for an evening of gripping TV. Coronation Street, a play, and a programme about a large, flaccid transsexual preparing for a sex-change operation. I made some derogatory comments, at which Ally raised her eyebrows and cast her eyes to the large pair of stiletto heeled shoes that I'd worn only days before. My drag act at a fancy dress dress party is a different matter.

To bed in the region of 12.

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Tuesday October 14, 1980

_. Bright Tuesday.

Phoned Mama. They left for Diss early this morning.

To Ally's at 6 for dead rabbit stew.  Joined at 8:30 by Catherine Brook, and the recumbent David, who immediately fell asleep on the sofa. Her really threw himself into the 'dead man lying on the floor' routine. I sat clutching a glass whilst Ally and Catherine pored over some of my photo albums dating back to 1971, Boring, and quite embarrassing at times. I write very revealing picture captions. It is Ally's theory that I have a different album for each of my 'bits of stuff'. They left at 12, and we had a much needed drink. ________.

To bed at about 1.

Monday October 13, 1980

Beloved Führer ?

_. Monday. Ally came to see me and we sat huddled on the settee watching the telly. What else? It helps when a diarist has total powers of recall, but alas my powers have dried tonight. Ally left at 10:30, and I departed immediately to my chamber where I scowled angrily at my alarm clock which is refusing to work properly. It rings at a time of its own choosing and has developed an irregular tick.

Mrs Thatcher, our beloved Führer, is 55 today. However, it now seems that everyone regrets voting her into power. It's hard to find anyone who backs her. Even Cabinet ministers are red faced and cowering. A sign of the times. And, what is happening to the Labour party? Will Sir Alfred Broughton [Batley & Morley] succeed 'Sunny Jim' ?

Did you know that Michael Bentine once almost had a leg amputated because of a thrombosis? Dreadful, eh?

Sunday October 12, 1980

_. 19th Sunday after Trinity

Home to Bradford from the Browns at three, four or five. I discarded everything female and returned to the sanity of manhood. Slept. Ally went to the Belfry at 11:30. I walked home in the sun to Guiseley. I didn't walk all the way, but most of it.

A family gathering. Sue, Pete, Lynn and Dave came for tea and buns. We giggled at a Peter Sellers film from 1963 where he played a Scouse clergyman. Ally dropped in mid-afternoon, but left just as I was getting used to her. I felt buggered and slept in a chair to the backcloth of 'Songs of Praise' on the BBC, which in my twilight existence made me think I was ascending into Heaven, but serenaded by out of tune choristers from a provincial town. Eventually I went up to bed.

Mama and Papa are going to see Ruby and Arthur in Norfolk on Wednesday. The Gadsbys are in Norfolk now, and so it might be quite wild.

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