Saturday October 25, 1980

The new album by the Police.

_. Felt very ill. Up at 8:30am. To the shops. Bought paint and wallpaper, and I added a glut of presents, to say sorry for my appalling behaviour. Flowers, Elgar's 'Enigma Variations', including Pomp and Circumstance and 'Nimrod' and all that, plus the new Police album.

Gulped down handfulls of pills to kill the pain in my brain. However, I did manage to undercoat the bathroom and the bedroom. Dark Green and a subtle off white. Oh dear.

At 6:30 we went to Pine Tops for dinner with Mama and Papa. Rabbit. Tired, by the cosy fire, but all the same we dragged ourselves out to join Susie and Pete at the White Cross. On to the Fox & Hounds, then the New Inn. Sue had ale poured all over her at the latter, and so we moved to the Drop. Jean Hanson is fatter, and redder, and back from foreign parts. She looks at me in a different light now that she knows I am related to Constable Rhodes. To Sue & Pete's afterwards, and home at 12. Buggered, not literally.

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Friday October 24, 1980

_. United Nations Day

Dismal, again. Home at 6 to an empty abode. Pete arrived to take me to Lynn and Dave's where Mum and Dad are taking tea. I sent him packing, telling him I'm going to a party.

Phoned Ally and then Dave L.  He agreed, to my great surprise, to accompany me to Grant McKee's party, because I know how Dave is strongly opposed to supping into the early hours and in distant and unfamiliar surroundings. He went to Sherburn-in-Elmet to buy three rabbits  for school and then picked me up at 9. We bought wine and cider and went to the Eagle on North Street. Met Carol J, Pauline, Helen, Penny and Shazzo, and Shazzo's Irish boyfriend. A comical evening. Drank Timothy Taylor's ale, and the 'prawn man' provided the cockles and mussels. The pub closed at 10:30. I have always thought that the pubs in Leeds opened until 11, and was aghast at the ringing bells and flashing lights.

With Grant McKee at Brown's.

On to the party in a rambling terraced house off Cardigan Road. Gallons of wine and ears filled with the Rolling Stones, in the midst of many strange faces. It was touching to see the way that the YP contingent of revellers all huddled together near the fireplace. Penny Wark, Helen Scott, Carol J, Tony Harney, &c. Dave thoroughly enjoyed himself. He joked with Shazzo about her drinking vintage German wines. [She's Jewish, you know]. By 2 I was sozzled and Dave must have persuaded me to leave. We found ourselves in Bradford, where I banged furiously on Ally's door and then spewed up. She tried to undress me, but failed miserably. I fell asleep on the top of the bed.

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Thursday October 23, 1980

_. Cold, wet, &c. YP dull. Kathleen is off with Legionaire's Disease.

Cleese: Petruchio.

Ally came at 7:30 and we sat in deckchairs in the dining room watching John Cleese play Petruchio in The Taming of the Shrew. I fully expected a 16th century version of Basil Fawlty but was presently surprised. We had thought of going to 'Time and Place' but at 10:30 we were too comfortable and couldn't be bothered uprooting ourselves. We joined Mum and Dad with Jim and Margaret, and retired at about 11, or was it 12?

Margaret told us, in quiet tones, that Pamela's boyfriend is a divorcee with three sons. She sounded embarrassed at having to mention it.

Ally is gorgeous, you know. I fear she has to stand a good deal of nonsense and bother from me because basically she is serious and sensible. It must be trying for her. When will it be wedding bells do you think? It's only a matter of time because we have reached the point where marriage is the obvious next step to take. Yes, we are at the abyss. The great crossroads are ahead, with a long road beyond, and a dual carriageway at that.

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Wednesday October 22, 1980

_. Dark, damp, misty. Up at 7:10 with Dad. He went off to Otley to guard prisoners who would otherwise be left to their own devices owing to a prison officers 'go slow'.

To Leeds with Jim who, for two days now, has been relating the tale of 'Les Miserables' to little Jennie.

Aghast at the news that Lord Thomson of Fleet is selling The Times newspaper next year. This must be a death warrant for this fine newspaper. I am grief stricken. Before long we'll have nothing but 'The Sun'.

Sarah is miserable these days. ____________. Chippy saw her in the Shoulder last Thursday. _____.

Home at 6. Mama and I had dinner by candlelight, and Dad, the jailer, joined us just as we finished. Later, sat clutching Clementine Churchill, I was brought from my stupor by sweet Ally on the blower informing me that she needed to see me immediately. She arrived at 7:45 and out we went to the New Inn at 9:30. Our departure was delayed due to Prokoviev on the telly, with the added attraction of Princess Michael of Kent, who was briefly in view. George Howard, of the BBC, resembles a paraplegic toad.

To the New Inn at 9:30 with £2.60 in my pocket, but this went within half an hour. I was reduced to drinking half pints. Ally was treated [sic] to a packet of roast oxen crisps.

Home at 10:30 to see John Cleese interviewed by Michael Parkinson. He is playing Petruchio tomorrow and I cannot help feeling this might be a mistake. Will it be a 16th century Fawlty Towers?

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