Thursday January 1, 1981

 _. Michael Lawrence Rhodes: age 25 years, 8 months, and 26 days.

Bank Holiday in UK, Republic of Ireland, USA & Canada.

Woke up at some point in the morning still wearing my Tudor regalia, and chain of office. Dreadful, really dreadful. I have never seen Ally look so ghastly.

At 1:30 we walked in the sun to the Plough to join Graham and Gill, who were with Midge, Mel and Barbara. Mel was very drunk and he went on and on singing the praises of Margaret Thatcher. 'Our greatest leader since Churchill, or maybe even Queen Elizabeth I'. Ally, looking like death, didn't drink.

Midge, the beleaguered landlady told me I was a very good looking Henry VIII, but was most peturbed, and still reeling from the dressing down I gave her last night. Evidently I commanded her presence in the dining room to inform her that the salmon mousse wasn't up to standard.

Back to Chillandham Cross. Had roast lamb for lunch, but brought it all back two hours later. Watched 'Great Expectations' on the BBC and left at 7:30 during 'Dr Zhivago'. A hideous journey home, without a break, and back to Pine Tops for 11. To bed exhausted. 

Oh yes, a Happy New Year, to all my readers.

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Wednesday December 31, 1980

 _. To Portwood [Southampton] this morning where Ally had a fitting for a pale blue bridesmaid dress, in readiness for Graham and Gill's wedding in March. Afterwards, we had one drink in the local Berni Inn, where Ally and [John] Pinder once spent a week, and then to the home of a theatrical lady where we were kitted out with fancy dress gear for tonight. 

Back at Chillandham Cross we dressed. I was transformed into King Henry VIII, and Ally an exquisite Anne Boleyn. Graham = Wurzel Gummidge, and Gill = Aunt Sally.

At 9 to the vicarage at Kings Worthy and out with the Lynn family to a depraved do at the local rugby club where we all became horribly drunk. We arrived back at the Plough Inn at 11:45, the straw from Wurzel Gummidge's hat hanging out of my doublet and hose. A debauched evening. In my capacity as monarch I gave Scotland to Neil [the bar man], who likes sheep, you know. Other minions received dukedoms. I then knighted Neil with the command: 'Kneel, Neil'. Barbara, the alcoholic lady from Easton, took a great shine to me. I was administering Holy Communion in the dining room [using Midge's silver gravy boat filled with port and brandy] when in walked the Rev Matthew Lynn, just as Graham spewed all over the sideboard. The clergyman took it in good spirits [geddit?].

Neil, King of Scotland, and I ran the after hours bar, despite the advanced intoxication. I found Anne Boleyn, in a precariously treasonable position , fighting off the advances of Lord Nelson, on a settee. By 4am I was on the phone to France in search of an expert swordsman. I also stole all the toiletries from Midge's bathroom and hid them in my doublet. Dreadful of me. Home covered in damp ermine and feathers, dribbling Bacardi. Oh, God. See you next year.

Fin.

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Tuesday December 30, 1980

 _. To Southampton with Ally, Graham and Gill. He bought us lunch at an Italian place and afterwards we spent hours shopping for furniture. Tonight was far from alcohol free. The Plough Inn featured, but it's all very vague.

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Monday December 29, 1980

 _.Work and then to Winchester.

To the office. Hideous day. Why do we do it? Ally collected me at 5pm and we drove in good, clear conditions to Hampshire. Arrived at about 9:30. The Dixons were watching 'The Charge of the Light Brigade' on TV. Frank was in and out of the garage tinkering with Andrew's motor bike. Ate quiche and went up to bed. Ally clearly so very happy to be with her family.

Andrew, scruffier, now resembles a 1960s Hells Angel. Most disturbing.

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Sunday December 28, 1980

 _. 1st Sunday after Christmas

Sue and Pete's Christmas party. All the family attended with the exception of Maria. Sue made some good food. The drink flowed like water, but it was more of a subdued affair. I blame the surfeit of parties, the mountains of food, the shear volume of drink, &c.

To get away from the seasonal thing, I do feel sorry for poor President Carter. His four years in office must surely have been the worst four years America has experienced since the Second World War. The dramatic political situation of recent years has clearly bee too much of a strain on this humble peanut farmer with no previous political experience.

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Saturday December 27, 1980

 _. Have you noticed drastic changes in my handwriting? For instance just compare today's entry with February 20/21/22, or May 8 for that matter. Am I perhaps schizophrenic? Could I be swinging to the Left? Is Roy Jenkins a viable alternative? Or is it just because it's Christmas?

To the Woolpack with Ally. Met Chris Baker and Julie Harris. On to Chris and Audrey Rycroft's at 10:30pm until 5am. A rave of a party. Like a Roman orgy. A lad was walking around the house quite naked. He'd just returned from Tenerife and stripped to show off his sun tan then didn't bother dressing.

We were both pissed up and as we drove off we were stopped by PC Dom Melville, who recognised us and waved us on our way. Ally had trouble breathing thanks to Audrey's cats.

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Friday December 26, 1980

 _. Bank Holiday in England, Ireland, Scotland & Wales.

Ally and I had lunch with Mum and Dad. Cold meat and lashings of wine. Sat by the lights on the Christmas tree afterwards waiting for John and Maria. They came at 5. I nursed Catherine. She says 'cup', and 'bye bye' and 'Crackerjack'. Very bonnie.

At 6:30 Ally and I left for Club Street to bedeck the house with Xmas cards and after a frantic tidy round we headed for the Bod to meet Sue [looking flushed], Pete [with a raging temperature], Dave L [a must at any party, a great friend], Jacq, Paul, Pete Sate, _____with a girl called Kay, Chris & Audrey Rycroft, and a dwarf called Christine. By 9:30 Pete N was feeling really ill and so he and Sue left, taking the Rycrofts and the dwarf with them, leaving Ally and I with only a skeleton staffed Boxing Day party. On to Club Street. Great fun. John & Maria joined us late and she played Christmas Carols on the piano, and we all sang and danced in true festive style.

Dave L will always have a niche in my heart, if that doesn't sound too queer. Since 1967 we have been the greatest of friends, and although we can go many months without seeing one another, when we do meet it's as if we have never been apart. A true, brotherly relationship. To bed with Ally at about 5am. Dave had a bunk bed in the spare room. He was the only over night guest.

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Thursday December 25, 1980

 _. Up at 11 feeling well, happy and unscathed from the debauchery of yesterday. For a couple of hours I helped Mum prepare a sumptuous buffet lunch of enormous proportions. The traditional 'sit down' Christmas lunch has been dropped this year owing to the growing family and general over crowding. We played around with prawns and cold meat until clan began to assemble after 2. Jim Nason and Pamela's boyfriend dropped in and then went on to the Hermit [a tradition for Jim].

Lynn, Dave, Sue, Pete, John and Maria all walked in during the Queen's broadcast. Just not on. We'd just got to the bit where the Queen Mother was patting a horse called Sidney.

Present opening: I received a bloody umbrella from Mama. How very sensible. Ally gave me the 'More Specials' LP, plus a Givenchy aftershave set and a jumper. Astounding. The buffet was a great success, and less work for Mama and Papa. We avoided any TV until about 9pm. Pete's been feeling off colour all week. A sore throat.

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Wednesday December 24, 1980

 _. Christmas Eve. The annual Bacchanalian orgy took place at the YP. We finished everything in the office by 11 and then drank whisky and dry ginger with the girls and exchanged presents. The usual rigmarole. Ally phoned to say she'd collect me at 1. She arrived with Catherine Brook [such a Jane Austen character] and we went to Parker's to join Sarah, Carol J and Shazzo. After one drink we made our escape and went on to the Central with Shazzo in tow. Parker's, she says, is too posh for her. Everything became a little blurred. 

We met Pete Lazenby and at closing time he accompanied Ally, Catherine and I to Club Street where we indulged in more wine and we all sang heartily around the piano. Pete gave us a tremendous rendering of several of his monologues - 'Three Ha'pence a Foot' and 'Albert and the Lion', &c. He did not approve of us singing 'Land of Hope and Glory', and midway through this he disappeared to a butcher's shop to buy a leg of pork for his mother. We then took Catherine and a staggering Pete home. Home pissed.

Dressed and out at 8 to Hilda and Tony's Silver Wedding party at the Pudsey Civic Centre. I don't quite know how I kept going. Mama disapproved of my condition, and my staggering was something of a focal point. From the party we went on to Hilda's. I annoyed Uncle T by constantly asking whether Santa had been yet. 'No Michael. Not until you have been to sleep' was his reply. Home after 2am, and to bed.

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Tuesday December 23, 1980

 _. More pay [a fortnight's money today because of the holidays]. To Ally's from the YP. Out to Mamma Mia's Pizzeria on Manningham Lane for a romantic nosh before returning to Guiseley at 8. Mum and Dad were miserable and so we left hurriedly for Lynn and Dave's where we sat watching TV. Ally gave me disapproving looks. We left at 11 and watched Walter Matthau in 'Pete 'n Tilly'.

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