Friday March 20, 1981

 _. Full Moon

Peter is 23 today.I bought him a ridiculous miniature dart-board from a toy shop and a small bottle of Cointreau.

Ally came at 6. Sue and Pete had taken the day off and were just leaving Pine Tops with Lynn and Dave. Ally just missed seeing them by a few minutes. She'd been to Town Gate to look at a house called Phoenix Cottage, up for sale at £25,000. I spotted it a few days ago, and because I mentioned it she assumed I wanted to buy it. This has made her think that I am dissatisfied with Sprog Cottage at Lidget Green, which of course I am not. I look forward to living in Bradford, especially now that the MP Edward Lyons, QC, MP, has joined the Social Democrats. Surely, anything is better than Labour? 

Ally and I went to Sue and Pete's with birthday presents. Pete is more like Basil Fawlty than John Cleese is these days. To the White Cross. Ally felt unwell. Went to Club Street and watched TV in bed. I watched as she snored.

Mum and Dad went to the Stonehouse Inn tonight. Old George is in bed with bronchial pneumonia, and probably won't get out of it alive. His daughters are just waiting for him to go so that they can return to the civilisation of Oxfordshire. They cannot understand why Mum and Dad want to live in such a remote backwater.

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Thursday March 19, 1981

 _. Audrey the car is still at the sick car hospital in Lidget Green, but we hope she'll be well by tomorrow.

I did some shopping at lunchtime and bought a packet of fish in shrimp sauce. This was silly because for the same price [£1.06] I could have bought a nice piece of meat. 

To Club Street at 6. Spent a pleasant evening. Ally in a daft mood. We gooned around fabulously. She has received a card from Graham and Charlotte confirming their visit. I concocted a wild reply mentioning Ally's latest craze, sheep impressions, telling them that at that very moment she was impersonating a Shropshire ewe giving birth. I adore mad letters, but rarely receive them. If only I could write to myself? [I suppose that keeping a journal is writing to ones self]. 

Watched Orwell's 'Brave New World', the second and final part. Endured Robin Day, and went to bed at 12.

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Wednesday March 18, 1981

 _. Rain, bloody wind. Phoned Susie at 11:30 for ideas for Peter's birthday present. She suggests a dart board. Is he perhaps going soft in the head?

Sarah phoned Kathleen today and was stunned to hear from our beloved, absent ayatollah that she intends to return to rule over us once more from Monday. She wasn't going to inform us of her return, and must have planned to appear back in the office disguised as batch of last Tuesday's Whitby Gazette. We conspired not to tell Carol J of Kathleen's return. Our spiteful deed of the day.

The naughty child-molesting diplomat has been named in the Commons as Sir Peter Telford Hayman, KCMG, CVO, MBE, High Commissioner to Canada 1970-74, educated at Oxford, and if not actually living in Surrey I am sure he must be close by. The poor Queen must shudder with horror at the characters paraded before her at numerous Buckingham Palace investitures. If she isn't already wearing rubber gloves I strongly advise Her Majesty to start doing so.

Spoke to Ally three times. Received a confirmation of our holiday booking from Denise. Ally says Bessie is working herself into a frenzy about Graham's wedding on March 28. 'Where will Uncle Alan sleep?' 'Will Frank and Barbara be comfortable in a caravan?'

Jacq phoned and invited us to a party at Rodley on April 11 - Paul's birthday. I didn't mention our wedding. I couldn't think of what to say. Ally didn't like this when I told her of the conversation. It's as if I am ashamed of our wedding plans. Obviously, this is not how I feel.

Home at 6. Had kidneys and rice. Watched 'Lloyd George' part 3. 

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