Thursday November 12, 1981

 _. We have been married for 138 days today. A wonderful compatible pair. And I'm not bad either. 

A cold, frosty morn. Busy at the YP. Kathleen is laid up with workitis, and Sarah decided to take a half-day to buy furniture. Just 'Mrs Slocombe' and I, and the phone rang like Hell all day. 

The Prince and Princess of Wales visited York and Chesterfield today . Vast crowds turned out to see the princess who, according to reports, looked pale and uneasy. 80,000 people gathered in Chesterfield Market place.

A tortuous journey home this evening. Three different buses. I deserve the Royal Victorian Chain, or something.

Ally spent the evening working out our finances, or lack of them. She likes nothing better than sitting cross-legged on the floor surrounded by bills and long dormant cheque book stubs. She took my wallet and removed all the notes from it. Whenever I have cash it is soon cruelly taken from me.

Phoned Dave G at 8. Confirm our visit for Dec 12. Garry, he says, is being made redundant on Dec 18. Poor bugger. Always impassive and without expression, I wonder how long his face is now?

I have just taken up the journal of Barclay Fox, a Cornish Quaker, who kept a diary from 1832 to 1844. Very amusing and interesting because I recall many of the places mentioned from our Cornish holidays 1969, 1970 and 1971.

-=-

Wednesday November 11, 1981

 _. Veteran's Day, USA. - Remembrance Day, Canada

Dark and unpleasant it was at 6:15 today when Peter Milburn on 'Pennine Radio' roused us from our slumbers. We bathed and had boiled eggs, bananas on toast, &c. 

Rain. At the YP I decided to take a half day. Back home at 1:30 I painted the hand rail on the staircase, then looked at my flower painting. Made some headway with the roses and brought them close to completion. Some of them look like cabbages, but I'm generally quite pleased.

Phoned Ally.  An inquest is under way at Bradford Area Health Authority regarding the disappearance of Derek's fan heater. He views everyone suspiciously, and Ally is his number one suspect. The man is insane. Ally has also had a very frustrating conversation with Jack Andrews garage. She is in a state of fury over the condescending attitude of the secretary there.

Made a casserole, and we snuggled down this evening. A book arrived in the post from Associated Book Club. Gordon Honeycombe's 'The Royal Wedding', a special edition no less, and costing £17. Very plush.

Mum phoned for a chat. Watched the drama series 'The Borgias'.

-=-

Tuesday November 10, 1981

 _. At the YP. Gloom. Kathleen was sneezing and so the library was a major quarantine area. Surgical masks. I kid you not. 

Morning papers: The Princess of Wales has been 'under the weather' since her Cenotaph appearance. The EP is treating it very seriously - a tragedy in the making. I did some mournful research for them. Diana's great-grandmother, Margaret, Viscountess Althorp [1869-1906] died in childbirth. The baby survived and married Henry Douglas-Home.

Home at 6. Laid the stair carpet and made the place look a bit less like a Polish refugee camp, or an Afghan guerilla base in the foothills. I placed an old copy of the Times on each step to give the carpet added thickness. It's just like an Axminster now. 

At 11:30pm the phone rang. A voice said: 'Hello Sir. It's Buckingham Palace on the line. Will you accept a call?' It was Steve S. Tim then came on [pissed] to a background of noises reminiscent of Belle Vue Zoo. He was phoning to thank us for the birthday card.

Bed at 12.

-=-

Monday November 9, 1981

 _.To the Central Library at lunchtime. More art books.

No donkey jacket?

The brouhaha over Michael Foot's Cenotaph gaffe received marvellous coverage in the morning papers. One publication likened Foot to an 'Irish navvy' which as you can imagine has upset all the Irish MPs. Mrs Foot, defending her husband, is of the opinion that all great men throughout history have been generally of scruffy appearance. Unsure about this. Did we ever see Napoleon in a donkey jacket and wellies? Cleopatra in pre-shrunk faded jeans? [I was tempted to suggest snakeskin trousers, but that would have been unfair]. Louis XIV was always at home in a boiler suit too. [That's enough scruffy historical figures - Ed].

Home at 6. Continued painting flowers - a vast improvement. Still painting the hallway too. Dave G phoned at 8. He asked us to go to Stockport on Dec 12 to dine at Steak Kebabs.

Bed with Stanley Baldwin.

-=-

Sunday November 8, 1981

 _. 21st Sunday after Trinity - Remembrance Sunday

The phone woke us at 10:30. It was Mum reminding us to watch the remembrance service from the Cenotaph. We sat with eggs on toast watching the age-old ritual from London. The Queen laying yet another wreath. The Princess of Wales was in animated conversation with King Olav of Norway on the balcony of the Home Office. The Queen Mother always has a wistful, teary look on these occasions. The pin-striped Cabinet ministers had front row positions but it was Michael Foot's spectacular appearance upon which every eye focused. The Leader of Her Majesty's Opposition was wearing a shabby duffle coat, buttoned up wrong, and checked tie. And was he wearing Hush Puppies? If his appearance wasn't bad enough, he walked away from the Cenotaph after placing his wreath in the manner of a man leaving a parking meter. No court bow. No reverence. This is the Labour party for you. 

Harry.

Spent the day painting the hall and staircase. Broke off at 4:30 to watch an old film. Henry Fonda [aged 17] in 'Jesse James' [1939]. 

I must say something about Uncle Harry. Last week Uncle Bert went up to Whitehaven from Nottingham to see his brother [Harry], only to find he was away for the weekend with his 25 year-old girlfriend. Harry is 59 and he's apparently taken up with a comely Cumbrian yoga teacher. On finding Harry's mobile home unoccupied Bert didn't hesitate to break in and spend a solitary weekend on Harry's hospitality. Dad says we shouldn't put too much emphasis on Bert's version of events and details of Harry's new love. Uncle Bert isn't the most reliable news agency.

Dined on mounds of steak and kidney pudding, and collapsed afterwards. Ally phoned Bessie. They are going to Cyprus on Nov 11. Ally's cousin Kathryn Mogford gave birth to a son Adam, recently. Not an obnoxious name.

-=-

Saturday November 7, 1981

 _. A day spent on the staircase splashing paint everywhere. The drab pink undercoat on the woodwork has now given way to a shining poppy, giving a brilliance to the place which, quite frankly, is breathtaking. In my wife I have found a skilled 'brushwoman'. She can do a door far better than I ever could, and knows exactly the right amount of paint to lay upon her brush. I am prone to being runny. 

We went into town on the bus at 4 and spent an hour around the shops. We bought Frances a Lucy Atwell book of Grimm's fairy tales, and a soup recipe book for Kathleen [99p], and a flan dish for Diane and Paul's engagement. We did much giggling. By 4:30 darkness had descended and the Christmas trees and glitter in the shop windows lent a Yuletide atmosphere to the place. Hideous really. It's another seven weeks until Santa Claus comes.

Margaux Hemingway.

Tonight I splashed about on a canvas for Mama. Quite pleased with the first few strokes but I have trouble with the sheep in the foreground. It's quite difficult to make sheep look like sheep, if you know what I mean. 

Had lasagne. Watched Margaux Hemingway in 'Lipstick' from 1976. Five years ago did I take Lynne Mather to see the film, or was it Sarah? Films are usually a let down after five years, and this is no exception. It hasn't aged well.

Mum phoned at 10:30pm just for a chat and pleading loneliness. Papa was out on constabulary duties between 4pm and midnight.

To bed at 12 with milky drinks and books.

-=-

Friday November 6, 1981

 _. Ally is exhausted and looks ghastly. She says she could sleep for 150 years. 

To Len's Bar at lunchtime with Sarah. Dismal.

The YP is all Charles and Diana. The papers all agree that it's the quickest royal pregnancy to follow a marriage for many years. The Duke of Clarence and Avondale was born in January, 1864, ten months after his parents, the then Prince and Princess of Wales, married. However, Queen Victoria gave birth to the Princess Royal in November, 1840, nine months to the day after her marriage to Prince Albert. If you regard all this as tenuous let's go back to the Prince Regent, later George IV, who married Caroline of Brunswick on April 8, and his only child, Princess Charlotte, was born on the following January 7. The royal baby will be the first baby born to a Princess of Wales since Mary [of Teck] gave birth to Prince John in 1905. The Press Association speculate about the possibility of twins. Diana's grandfather, the 4th Lord Fermoy [1885-1955] was a twin with his brother the Hon Francis Roche [1885-1958], and Diana's aunt Mary [her mother's sister] had twin girls in 1957 to her then husband, Anthony Berry, MP.

Home after 6. Pork chops and mounds of cabbage. Ally had left the AHA early, and gone on foot to Morrison's and then walked home.

Bed after 10.

-=-

Thursday November 5, 1981

 _. Off out into the cold at 7:45. Bounced into the YP with an air of unconcealable efficiency about me. Very pleased that Bob [Cockroft] used my piece about Davina Sheffield announcing her engagement to Jake Morley. I have always liked Davina, and out of all the Prince of Wales's ex-girlfriends I think she is the best. I always hoped she'd be the future Queen.

Queen Gladys?

My phone trilled at 11. It was an excited Ally. The tea lady had just been in her office and announced that the Princess of Wales is pregnant and expecting a child next June. At exactly that time there was a buzz on the newsdesk. Geoff Hemingway, somewhat unfeelingly I think, asked drily who the father might be. This is excellent news. A direct heir to the Crown and the first direct heir to be born since 1948. So, it's either Prince George or Princess Victoria of Wales. I'd be very surprised at Craig, Darren, or Shirley. They have to be so careful naming a future monarch because he/she gives his/her name to the era in which he/she reigns. Just imagine if Queen Victoria had been Gladys? The period of great change, industrial revolution, and progress, the British Empire, Disraeli, the aspidistra, would have gone down in history as the Gladysian era. Would Elizabeth I have held sway over Ye Olde England as Queen Mavis? And what about Elvis the Lionheart?

Home at 6. Ally beaming. We went out at 8 to look at a smoky bonfire. Had a couple of drinks at Mucky Willie's and came home at 9. Ally felt faint and was put to bed. I watched News at 10. We have had a good royal year.

-=-

Wednesday November 4, 1981

 _. The bus journeys to and from the office grow steadily worse. The Leeds-Bradford run is reminiscent of the Burma Railway, only worse. 

The State Opening of Parliament took place today. The first time that a Princess of Wales has attended since 1910. The poor Queen gave a crisp, and brief speech from the throne, but the dazzling Princess of Wales snatched the limelight, as of course it was intended she should. Diana, in a tiara, is clearly heading to the top of the polls, eclipsing even the Queen Mother.

I fell into the house at 6:15 quite jaded. Ally was preparing tea, or perhaps dinner of sausages and chips.

Lord Hailsham.

I am thoroughly appalled by the BBC. I sat down to view the pageant of the state opening but got nothing other than a brief clip of HM poised upon her throne. Poor old Lord Hailsham almost fell walking backwards. You always get one. I do recall Field Marshal Viscount Montgomery collapsing at the state opening whilst holding the sword of state and was very close to impaling a teenage Princess Anne. Earl Mountbatten, God rest him, was once taken all peculiar too, if I remember correctly. 

-=-

Tuesday November 3, 1981

Cousin Pam Obermeyer.

 _. Ally is having fun and games on a morning. In recent days, in the absence of Audrey Citroen, she's been walking down to her office at the AHA, and has been befriended by a mental patient, an inmate of Lynfield Mount asylum, who now waits for her. She now spends some time hiding behind trees, and climbing over walls to avoid these dawn dalliances with this potential mad axeman, who at the moment appears inoffensive and only wants to talk about his wife and card games.

Tonight I tackled my oil painting of flowers and made some improvements but regret starting the work so high up the canvas. There's a blue expanse at the foot of the picture that I must do something with.

'Brideshead Revisited' on the TV. It's improving slightly, but Ally watched with interest.

Pam Obermeyer, the actress daughter of my Auntie 'Eddy', was the star of 'Play for Today' on the BBC. All tits, sex, and bad language, but they are very proud down in Nottingham.

-=-

Monday November 2, 1981

 _. Ally had a hard time on the phone with the blood sucking leech Broadhead at Jack Andrews. He twists everything and makes out that they are doing us a favour putting a floor back in the Citroen for £50. You know what Ally is like. Everything hits her with twice as much force as it does me, and she came off the phone close to tears. 

Home at 6. Mum and Dad came at 7 and we had drinks before dinner at 8:30. Mum brought a pack of photos of their Alessio holiday. Both looked happy and well. Dad singing the praises of Northumberland too. Why is that county ignored and almost a 'no go' region for us Yorkshire folk? People talk endlessly of the Dales and the Lakes, but why not Northumberland?

We discussed Princess Margaret who is back in the news this week. [Nigel] Dempster has completed his biography, and I am pleased to see that he has clobbered Lord Snowdon, for a change. Dempster informs us that in November, 1974 the princess took an overdose of sleeping tablets. She was suffering from depression and he says it was a cry for help, and not really a suicide attempt. Snowdon is a lecher, a womaniser. Poor Princess Margaret is the most maligned woman in the history of the world. 

Charlotte phoned. She is pregnant and expecting a baby on or around June 1, 1982. The dinner was going cold whilst this joyous news was related. Mum and Dad left at 11. Exhaustion.

-=-

Sunday November 1, 1981

 _.20th Sunday after Trinity

Up at about 9. Our visitors were making good their escape. Steve is watching football at Kippax and they couldn't stay for breakfast.

Ally, in a dreadful state, regrets accepting an invitation to lunch with Jill and Tim. She found a black dress she bought last year. Tim came and collected us at 2 and took us to Valley Rd, Pudsey, a nice, solid terrace house. There until 9:30. We had roast pork. My eyes felt like lead. Tim drove us home.

-=-

Saturday October 31, 1981

 _.Hallow'een

Bright, brisk and cheerful day. Up at 9:05 precisely and into a hot bath after which I filled a bucket with soapy water and went out to clean the windows.

Lidget Green is like Burnsall or Hawes today and I wouldn't swap Ash Tree Cottage for Haddon Hall or Chevening combined.

We had toast and then took Audrey back to the licensed bandits that are Jack Andrews. Car salesmen are a revolting species. Why did God create them? I put them on a par with the shortly to be extinct blood sucking leech.

Onward into town to buy vegetables, meat, and the gallons of booze for tonight. Home at 4 and spent some time making the place look party-like. Ally looking glorious in her yellow knickerbockers and black 'boob tube'. Paul phoned from Rodley. He and Jacq can't make it. That's two down.

Sue and Pete were first arrivals, followed by the Bakers, Gadsbys, Sandersons and Elmers, and Mr Lawson. A humorous, pleasant night. Lynn and Dave seemed cheerful but we were told Frances-talk had been banned. I didn't get helpless, and recall most of the jokes. Dave L brought a turnip lantern with him. I do like cousin Jill. She is so quiet and oozing with motherly kindness. Karen spotted my 'Caligula' book and gloated over the pornographic Roman photography. She said that both her and her mother are avid porno readers. Everybody danced wildly without any casualties.

Dave L and I found ourselves upon the settee [like Kissinger and Arafat] discussing politics and the next SDP government. He thinks that Shirley Williams is the greatest thing since Cleopatra, and doesn't seem to mind the idea that Cyril Smith might be foreign secretary. Poor boy.

The party fizzled out at 4-ish. Karen, Steve, Di and Paul had the spare room. Ally and I did the washing up and listened to Rachmaninov. We finished off with bread and cheese, Bed at dawn.

-=-

Friday October 30, 1981

 _. Up at 6:30 and plunged into a hot bath. Ally remained in bed, moaning, her nose poking from the continental quilt. She resembled a gassed badger. 

Ate porridge. It's clear that Ally has a cold. I only hope she'll survive the coming weekend and its riotous, Borgia-like excesses.

YP was better than of recent. Friday always helps. Kathleen is already talking about summer holidays next year. I remained silent on that matter.

Dad, God bless him, saw Jack Andrews this morning and came away quietly confident that he had conveyed our grievance in a coherent, and reasonable manner. What has come over Dad? Asserting himself so admirably. Spoke to Mum. Lynn and Dave are going on Saturday and leaving Frances with them for the night. Lynn must have been getting miserable about the monotony and constant routine with no time for play.

Dinner: fried liver and onions. Ally went upstairs with the vaccuum cleaner and I could hear furniture moving around from one room to another. Phoned Karen at 8. The Pudsey crew are all coming. Dave L phoned me afterwards. He is broke, and pleased we are starting here at 9 and not at the pub. He was busy making lanterns from turnips for his nephew, Ashley.

-=-

Thursday October 29, 1981

 _. It wasn't as wet today, but the rain came down at the vital moments when I was outside scantily clad. When I say vital, I of course mean crucial. 

Saw in the Times that Denys Gravenor Rhodes has died. Distantly related, no doubt. He was married to the Hon Margaret Elphinstone, the Queen's cousin and bridesmaid. She is one of the few Rhodeses in the peerage, with the exception of the Rhodes baronet and Lord Rhodes of Saddleworth, KG [who is a life peer].

Brisk walk at lunch. I spotted Christine Braithwaite in Albion Street, but she had gone before we could speak. 

Mum phoned me at 4. Dave called in to see them yesterday evening and then Lynn phoned her at 8 and was chatty and normal but made no apology for her peculiar behaviour. Today Mum and Susie lunched at Burley, and so the breach might be healed.

Spaghetti with Ally. She's still wearing my woollen sweater. 

News: The Princess of Wales received the freedom of Cardiff and made a speech, partly in Welsh. I must say what a fortunate young man the Prince of Wales is.

-=-

Wednesday October 28, 1981

 _. A dark, wet day. Spent some time with Bob Cockroft. I gave him a good story for the People column.  Lady Ropner, wife of Sir John Ropner, of Thorp Perrow, has given birth to a son and heir in London. Sir John, 44, has four daughters and the baronetcy is now saved from extinction.

Stayed in the office at lunchtime. Something of a fast day, because I forgot to bring sandwiches, and because Margot is off we had no regular supply of tea and coffee. Have I said why Margot is missing? She is in hospital having her toe nails removed. Ugh. Shazzo called in and I invited her to ours on Saturday.

Home at 6, half drowned. Ally's wet clothes were piled in the doorway, and various items were trailed across the house. She was in a heap on the settee in one of my woolly pullovers, and nothing else. We had a fried concoction. 

The royal Welsh, or perhaps squelch programme continues. Despite heavy rain the Welsh have given the Waleses a great welcome. Diana looked splendid in limp ostrich feathers very much in the style of the Queen Mother.

-=-

Tuesday October 27, 1981

 _. New Moon.

Pepys.

Why do I keep a journal? They say it's done for reasons of vanity, and so I certainly must be vain. I remember feeling such a thrill last August [1980 that is] when I returned from Ibiza to be told that Uncle Bert had stumbled upon my journal whilst staying at Pine Tops, and found it enjoyable reading. Most people would feel affronted or embarrassed to have had their journal discovered and read, but because Uncle Bert had found it interesting I felt quite the opposite. This is vanity. And of course I love wallowing in the past and what better way can one do this than by keeping a journal? I have undertaken a mathematical exercise. Selecting a typical day in July I counted all the words of the page and multiplied them by 365 and then multiplied that number by 9. It transpires that since January 1, 1973, I have have written approximately 1,235,160 words. Looking at the introduction of the Pepys Diary I see that in nine and a half years old Sam wrote approximately 1,250,000 words. I have spent nine years writing about nothing and Samuel Pepys had such great tales to tell. What have I had to offer? I repeat the same old complaints year after year, and tell the same tale of drudgery with increasing regularity.

Today the office was slightly more tolerable. Sarah slightly better. Took a brisk walk at lunch time. Traversing Park Square. 

Home in one piece, which was almost not the case when two Bradford lasses started brawling on the upper deck of the bus. Handbags were flying. Some of these Bradford girls are like rugby prop forwards.

We had a stew and dumplings and watched 'Brideshead Revisited'. Read Baldwin. 

Spoke to Mum at 8:30. Still no word from Lynn. Dad is marvellous about Jack Andrews and says he will go alone one afternoon.

The Prince and Princess of Wales are in Wales on a three day tour of the principality. The princess seemed overwhelmed. They had a tumultuous welcome, which included a visit to Carnarvon Castle and a meeting with Lord Snowdon.

Bed by 11.

-=-

Monday October 26, 1981

 _. Bank Holiday in the Republic of Ireland

Unspeakable day at the YP. You have no idea how hideous it is working in an office full of women. I'd love to get out, but in these days of 27 million unemployed I'm in no position to quit. 

Saw Jacq in town. She's coming to ours on Saturday.

Ally phoned Mum, back from Northumberland, and was caught in the act and reprimanded by Derek [Jenkins] for making a private call. Ally has asked Papa to accompany her to Jack Andrews garage and look savage and menacing. He has agreed, but first he wants us to draw up a history of the saga of our dealings with the Citroen garage. It makes frightening reading. Frank has been consulted. Audrey has got to go. We are going to be carless. Is this the start of our fall into mediocrity? Are we to be trapped in Bradford 7 forever?

Home at 6 to a depressed Ally. She's sick of Derek, sick of the car and sick of Lynn's behaviour. We had chicken [again]. Phoned Mum and Dad at 6:30.

News: a terrorist bomb in London's Oxford Street has killed a bomb disposal PC. Diana starts work tomorrow with a visit to Wales. The poor princess has received her first bad press with the recent stag killing mularkey. She must be a worried girl with such responsibilities at 20. How many people could withstand it? Mrs Thatcher is still PM. I have no idea where the snake Geoffrey Rippon is lurking tonight.

-=-

Sunday October 25, 1981

 _. 19th Sunday after Trinity. British Summer Time Ends

Jim.

Up at 10:30 after shall we say a 'restless' night in their single bed. We had toast. Sue is such a simple girl, and by simple I of course mean uncomplicated, and not stupid. I have always found her sensible, and light, amusing and thoroughly Wilson as opposed to Rhodes.

On to Fieldhead Road where Jim looked at Audrey's bottom. Our suspicions were confirmed by him and Pamela's boyfriend, Peter. Both were on their backs beneath the car gasping at the horrors of the cunning of Jack Andrews. We are advised to 'get rid'. 

Back at Club St we painted the hall and landing a shade of pale jasmine until after 7. We had a roast chicken.

Watched the final part of 'Churchill: The Wilderness Years'.

-=-

Saturday October 24, 1981

 _. United Nations Day

Up late, 10:30. After a greasy repast of sausages and eggs we walked, yes walked, to Whetley Hill garage and collected an ailing Audrey recently fitted with new king-pins to the value of £78. We drove, quite illegally, to Morrison's for our weekly provisions. I say illegally because the MOT expired over a week ago. 

On at 1:30 to the Hermit at Burley Woodhead to have a couple of drinks with Jim Nason. He says he will inspect the holes in the car floor, but the rain puts off the inspection until tomorrow. Sank a couple of lagers. On to Sue and Pete's. We decide to dine with them at the Hare & Hounds tonight. We left them at 4 and drove to Burley, but there was no sign of the Bakers. We went back to Club St, bathed, changed, and then drove back to Guiseley. Lynn, Dave & Frances were at Sue's. Lynn very sheepish and peculiar. Similarly, Dave was non-committal. I showed my annoyance and I think Lynn got the message. She made some remarks about us going out tonight, and planted feelings of ill will. She must have some form of depression. The long hours she spends alone with the baby must be having an adverse effect and getting her down. 

At 7:30 to the Hare & Hounds. The four of us had steaks. Pete was thrilled. They under-charged us for the wine. We paid £2.20 instead of £4. An animated, pleasant dinner. Afterwards we went down to the Fox and bumped into Diane and Paul. They're coming over to ours on Oct 31.

We slept at West End Terrace.

-=-

Friday October 23, 1981

 _. The car is a thorn in our side. Obviously Jack Andrews sold Ally a wreck on Sept 23 last year. The floor is seriously corroded to the extent that Ally has been precariously close to disappearing through the bodywork, and it's so obvious now, but too late. The vehicle was bodged by Jack Andrews to sell to an innocent lady buyer. 

Mum and Dad go to Northumberland. We had a mince concoction for dinner. Reading of Baldwin's early life up to 1920 he seems to have been unambitious. Watched a bit of telly, but programmes were abysmal.

We have decided that tomorrow we will go to Guiseley to see Jim Nason, and then to Sue's and finally to Lynn's at Burley.

-=-

Thursday October 22, 1981

 _. At the YP _________ is becoming more and more schizophrenic. Maniacal, in fact. 

Baldwin: devious

News: All the western leaders are at a conference in Mexico and Geoffrey Rippon is left behind in London. Could he be plotting a bloodless coup d'etat this weekend do you think? The Queen would not approve. Our poor monarch returns on Sunday from a month in Australia, New Zealand and Sri Lanka, where she's had a heavy cold and coughed and spluttered her way through speeches and toasts. Record crowds turned out to see HM 'down under'. Abdication? Ditch the Queen? Never.

Home to Piglet at 6. Walked to the local library. Back at 7 with a biography of Stanley Baldwin by H. Montgomery Hyde. I have never taken to Baldwin always having looked at him through the eyes of the Duke of Windsor, and he painted Stanley as a devious, sinister, pipe-smoking vole, with a cunning and shifty gaze. Obviously, Edward VIII bore a grudge.

We had fish and chips. Mum and Dad go to Northumberland tomorrow, and still haven't heard from Lynn. Horrid girl.

-=-

Wednesday October 21, 1981

 _. Out of bed at 6:30 for a leisurely breakfast. We eat a lot of boiled eggs and toast these days. ________.

Lively at the YP. Amused by an article in the Times which states that the blood sucking leech is now on the list of endangered species. People are actually worried about this and plans are to be set in motion to preserve the lives of these revolting worms. Perhaps they could all be grouped together in a leech game reserve? Before you know it they'll be accusing the Princess of Wales of slaughtering them in the Scottish heather. Surely there's a Chinese leech over in Peking that they could ship over to London Zoo to impregnate our beloved, and last surviving giant leech?

The ridiculous family feud continues. I phoned Mum at 10:20 [I tried at 8 but she was out at Sue's] and she is still waiting to hear from Burley. Since Saturday Lynn has cut us all off. Bloody hell, you'd think David would use his common sense and make contact. Ally disagrees. David, she says, will have been blinded by his all consuming wife, and made to think that his mother-in-law is the vile ogre responsible for the break in diplomatic relations. Lynn's behaviour is thoughtless and cruel. She has always been a willful girl and always said and done everything without thinking about anyone else. Oblivious to her own pitfalls she is very quick to pin-point the faults in others.

Susan is in bad with a bad cold, and Mum and Dad visited her tonight. She left work on Friday, and was hoping to celebrate at the White Cross.

Bed at 10:45.

-=-

Tuesday October 20, 1981

 _. Woke up, and to my horror, see that the alarm clock is blatantly proclaiming 7:58am. I fled from the house and arrived at the office at 9:15. They cannot complain. Since my marriage I haven't turned in late.

Argued with Sarah on the subject of so-called 'blood sports'. This was brought on by the Sun 'exclusive' which stated that the Queen, like Diana, goes out and kills deer on her Scottish moors. I thought it was common knowledge that the Queen is an expert shot. At one time she regularly shot two stags a year [according to the Evening Post, 1958], and the head of one of her 'prize' executions hangs on a wall at Balmoral for all to see. She was taught how to shoot by her father, reputed to be a brilliant marksman. Anti-blood sport people are usually in the main boring, bearded, Left-wing city dwellers who take the Guardian, and lecture at the local polytechnic. This is why I am so surprised by Sarah's revulsion. She tries so hard to be 'county' and is let down badly by this. Surely, most rural people think nothing about going out and killing anything that moves? The nearer one draws to suburbia the more misguided and sentimental people are regarding animals. Thank God for a sane wife. When I asked for her opinion on this subject she sighed, and looking up from her book, said: 'Let them get on with it.'

I was home for 6. Phoned Mum. Still no word from Lynn. I would never have thought that Lynn could be so horrible. If I was one of those modern thinking types I could put it all down to post-natal depression, but that would put me of a par with some feminist Guardian columnist.

Paint flowers. Bed at 11pm.

-=-

Monday October 19, 1981

 _. A black, wet morning. Up at 6:30 to a wintry dawn. Breakfast with Ally and Dave. Malt loaf of all things, as we had forgotten to buy a loaf. We left Ally at 7:45 and got the bus into Leeds where I said goodbye to Dave at the YP. He did say, en route, that he cannot understand Lynn's behaviour to Mum.

YP dull. Sarah had lowered herself to collect my mail. Phoned Mum. She has had no word from Lynn.

Flower painting.....

News: The Princess of Wales has been killing deer at Balmoral. That's one in the eye for those boring wildlife preservationist types. It also illustrates quite admirably that Diana isn't the retiring shrinking violet that Fleet Street columnists would like us to think she is.

Ally should have seen Dr Glover today, but he seems to have forgotten. 

This evening I made a start on a flower painting for Bessie for Christmas. Got the idea from a flower arranging book. Bed at 11:40.

-=-

Sunday October 18, 1981

 _. 18th Sunday after Trinity

News: Sir Steuart Pringle, 10th Baronet, has had his leg blown off in an IRA attack. Moshe Dayan, the one-eyed Israeli general, is dead.

We had sausages for breakfast. Had no word from Lynn. 

The Fiddlers Three.

We walked to the Fiddlers Three at Clayon, at 12 for a couple of hours. Ally has told Dave of her miscarriage. Home at 2 for steak and kidney pudding.

Bus tonight at 8 into town to Duke's Wine Bar where a 'wet t-shirt' competition was in full swing, if you pardon the pun. Hundreds of randy males howling at three flat-chested Bradford girls being publicly humiliated standing in a cold shower in the bar. Dave, clamouring for a good view, stood on a table. Ally was far from happy.

Bed at 12:30.

-=-

Saturday October 17, 1981

 _. Hangover. Dave B came and collected Mum at 10:30 and off they went. But first he fixed the light fitting on the stairs.

Poor Mum always comes out of these squabbles the loser. We heard nothing from Lynn all day. Embarrassed that our guest Dave G should witness this family fracas, but he is a honorary member of the family. 

The Flying Pigs.

Ally, Dave and I got a bus into the town and bought veg in the market before spending two hours in Duke's Wine Bar, sat like three monkeys on a comfortable sofa in the corner. The liquid refreshment helped restore my faculties. Back to Club Street for 5pm. Out again at 8, in the frost, and by bus to Mamma Mia's pizzeria on Manningham Lane. A lasagne and two drinks. Couldn't manage any more. 

Bed at 11. Dave slept in the pigs room [so named after the flying pigs on the wall]. He says he was awake all night counting the passing cars. By morning he'd counted 48,645.

-=-

Friday October 16, 1981

 _. Arrived at the YP and Sarah threw a tantrum about collecting the post and papers from the Mail Room, and stormed off downstairs coming back with only her post and morning nationals. Miserable cow.

Met Dave G at 5 at the railway station and we walked back down Wellington Street and got the bus to Bradford. Dave's quiet repose is no way a sign of unhappiness. He is a very relaxed and contented being.

Mum and Dad came for dinner at 7. We had a sing song around the piano. Candlelight too. All very Victorian. Sue and Pete came at 8 followed by Lynn and Dave later. Lynn in a very queer mood, and was very cool to Mum, almost nasty. Dave B and I went over to the Oddfellows for two pints and then to the fish and chip shop for everyone, at about 10. 

Sue, Mum, Dad and Ally were discussing something about religion when Lynn, sitting with Dave G, leapt up and told Mum to 'get out or go upstairs'. No one ever tells Mum to 'go upstairs' or go anywhere for that matter. Mother was furious at first and then in floods of tears. Dad sided with his daughter, as he always does, which alientated him from Mum, and the whole party was shattered and split into two belligerent camps. I seethed for some time and then blew my top. Dave took Lynn home, and Dad went out and drove off leaving Mum on out settee, exasperated at the mess. Lynn was out for a fight, and had succeeded in upsetting everyone.

-=-

Thursday October 15, 1981

 _. No great desire to leave my bed on this dark, autumnal morning. Frost everywhere. I kid you not. Silly Kathleen is back and it transpires that in her fortnight's holiday she's been no further afield than Kirkbymoorside. She is going very grey.

Margot is 20 today. She bought doughnuts. 

Met Ally at Morrison's at 6:15 and gave her a kiss in the fancy goods, or was it up against the cheese counter? We walked home carrying our bags in the frost. It's funny but in the cold Ally always goes deathly white where most other people go a shiny pink. She looked like alabaster.

We ate something with mince and watched a charming old film, 'The Adventures of Hucklberry Finn'. It had me in stitches. I didn't see Ally all night. She is still 'spring cleaning' upstairs, the drone of the vaccuum cleaner coming down through the ceiling, rattling the spider plants in their chamber pots on the piano.

Later, saw 'Fanny By Gaslight', and no, it's not a porno. 

News: The BBC were yesterday singing the praises of Francis Pym as though Mrs Thatcher was dead. They are now saying that Geoffrey Rippon is to lead a revolt for the party leadership. What rubbish. Margaret Thatcher will be PM into the 1990s, if you want my opinion.

Bed at 11:50 with a mug of Ovaltine. Ally still on with Jilly Cooper. Perhaps I should get some jodhpurs and a riding crop.

-=-

Wednesday October 14, 1981

 _. Harassing day. Buses are just about the end. One could go raving mad travelling daily between Bradford and Leeds. The bus driver plays piped music to us in the hope of pacifying disruptive passengers. Strauss waltzes, and the like. It took me an hour and a half to get into the office today, my ears ringing with Shoshtakovich, and lungs dripping in nicotine.

Slumped at my desk with a strong coffee. Just Margot and I in the office. Carol J is at the YP Lit Lunch. Kathleen isn't back untiol tomorrow. The buzz in the office is that the prime minister is to be ditched and replaced by Francis Pym, of all people. Cannot see this happening. Margaret will obviously go if she loses the next general election, but Pym isn't an alternative. I'd sooner have Lord Carrington. Sadly, a PM in the Lords wouldn't go down well with the Benns of this world. However, could legislation be enacted to put Carrington's peerage into a dormant state for the duration of his premiership?

Ally spent the day fighting with Jack Andrews over the fate of Audrey Citroen. A fiasco. Derek Jenkins has suggested we pen a nasty letter to the Cirtroen dealers. Why not write to Margaret Thatcher?

Home to a bubbling lasagne. Ally cleaning upstairs. Phoned Mum but she wasn't at home. Dave G phoned us. Garry's passionate two-week affair with a girl called Mandy is over. Dave says Billy is the cause of this loss. Billy does have that effect on some people.

-=-

Tuesday October 13, 1981

 _. Sunshine. YP 9-12. Sarah still absent. Margot has returned from her assault on Calais. The poor girl is full of cold and told tales of shipwrecks and liquid adventures on the high seas.

At Club St at 1:30. I continued painting the staircase through until 10pm. Ally came in at 5:30 with a freezing nose.

Jack Andrews garage phoned at 5 to say Audrey is very ill and the repairs may cost £200-£300. You could have fucked me through my oilskins. I can tell you that this added to our depression, and we painted in silence which was only broken by the occasional obscenity.

Charlotte [Smith] phoned. They are coming her on November 13. Her father died whilst they were in Egypt.

We tried to watch Judi Dench in The Cherry Orchard but couldn't see for the paint.

Quite buggered. To bed at 11. Ally reading Jilly Cooper. Upper class crudity. Absolutely vulgar.

The Prime Minister is 56 today and at the Tory Conference at Blackpool. Norman St John Stevas was on the news making noises about Edward Heath.

-=-

Monday October 12, 1981

 _. Columbus Day, USA. - Thanksgiving Day, Canada

Ally's first day back at the AHA since September 25. Everyone was good, and even Derek became, briefly, partially human. He told her to take care and to take time off if ever she felt 'off it'. He added that settling down to married life can often prove to be somewhat trying. The news that she was back spread throughout the AHA and people came in to offer support.

YP gruesome. Sarah off with a cold. At lunchtime I went to the Central library and took out several books on flower arranging. No, I haven't turned queer. Bessie has commissioned a flower painting from me, and I have no intention of painging from life. Besides, I enjoy painting from photographs.

Home at 6. Wet and cold. After dinner we returned to our decorating, splashing undercoat everywhere. A hive of industry. However, Ally is very much a perfectionist when it comes to decorating. My finished work always looks presentable but I do cheat and use cunning tactics along the way.

-=-

Sunday October 11, 1981

 _. 17th Sunday after Trinity

Up with the larks and after a couple of eggs we were up to our knees in pink paint on the staircase. Worked until 1:30.

To Mum's at 2:30. The newly re-upholstered suite is spectacular. Drank sherry with Mum. Dad was carrying out constabulary duties. 

On to Burley and Lynn and Dave's with a 'Bunnykins' plate and egg cup for Frances's christening present. Dave's Uncle Syd and family were there drinking tea. Lynn made it clear she is sick of visitors.

Back to Pine Tops for dinner. Pork. Went on to Sue's at 9. She was dressed for bed and running a bath. Peter watching Bridge on TV.  What will they think of televising next?

Back at Club Street I looked at my oil painting. Not happy with it.

-=-

Saturday October 10, 1981

 _. Sunny, but cold. Ally went to see Dr Glover at 10:30. ___________. She must have been in the very early stages of pregnancy. He kept referring to 'the foetus'. It might be just a foetus to him.

We went into town and bought a blind for the kitchen window and our weekly food supply. After four hours shopping I was jaded and desolate.

Interesting fact: Ally has never eaten a pomegranite, and she looked on in amazement when I bought one.  Funny, isn't it?

Sausages and chips. Watched the film starring Clifton James as himself playing Field Marshal Montgomery, 'I was Monty's Double'.

Lots of phone calls. Lots of sympathy. 

News: Sadat's funeral. The Prince of Wales attended clad in a white uniform. Three former US presidents were in Cairo, Nixon, Ford and poor Jimmy Carter. Before long I envisage coach loads of former US presidents. Nixon looked old and breathless and far from well. Carter looks like he's 125 years old and Ford looks like an Egyptian mummy.

Erected the blind on the kitchen window. The people waiting for the bus on Cemetary Road are now denied looking in our domestic scene.

-=-

Friday October 9, 1981

 _. To get on at the YP one has to be a sycophantic moron, nay, a 20th century Uriah Heap. 'Mrs Slocombe' is ideally suited.

Dr Glover visited Ally after 4. _________.

Tonight I phoned Mum and Bessie, and later we discussed going into town tomorrow to spend loads of money.

-=-

Thursday October 8, 1981

 _. Better day. A little man came this morning and erected a TV aerial to the chimney and now we are receiving a clear, and un-fuzzy picture. Watching News at 10 we could clearly make out every wrinkle of Alastair Burnet's face, and every layer of taffeta on the prime minister's gown. [Mrs T is with General Zia in Pakistan at the moment]. Oh yes, and speaking of Mrs Thatcher I still think she's the best thing to happen to us since Hereward the Wake. She's got my vote anyway.

Coming home on the bus yesterday [I forgot to mention this] I had to endure the sight of a gang of Social Democrats leaving St George's Hall. They all looked bloody shifty to me. They were all to a man wearing suede shoes, herringbone jackets and puffing on pipes burning St Bruno ready rubbed. Had I been the bus driver I might have been very tempted to mount the pavement and take them all out.

Home at 6. Lamb chops. Ally finds eating something of a labour. Sat afterwards watching 'Jaws'. Thanks to the new aerial we can clearly make out the shark. 

To bed at 11 with Ovaltine. Reading the Times an advert caught my eye 'Play tennis with Bjorn Borg for £400 for three days in December'.

-=-

Wednesday October 7, 1981

 _. More heavy rain. An amusing start to the day. Dr Glover asked for another urine sample from Ally. Scratching round in the kitchen looking for a suitable receptacle we turned up a small jar of Sutherland spread. That did the trick. I marched off at 7:30 in the direction of Beckside Road, brandishing the jar. Was soaked to the skin arriving at the locked surgery only to find that the vital sample would not fit through the letter box. Went back to Club St and left the offending sample with Ally.

Lynn and Frances came and spent the day with Ally. Dave dropped them off at 8:45 and collected them at 6:30. Baby looks very much like a Baker today, other than she has hair and most of that family do not.

Bessie sent a sweet note and a cheque for £5 to 'buy a tree for your garden'. She feels cut off in the depths of Hampshire.

Egypt: Vice-President Mubarak looks like he's holding things together, and will no doubt be elected president. Rumour has it that the Prince of Wales will attend the funeral on Saturday. Jimmy Carter's going too, and Mr Begin. 

Brewed lager.

-=-

Tuesday October 6, 1981

 _. Hideous day. Heavy rain. Left Ally in bed at 7:45. Dr Glover visted her at 10, who told her that she has suffered a miscarriage, and that the loss most likely occurred on September 26. Poor Darling. _____. He did say that depending on a test she might have to go into hospital. He told her to stay in bed.

I got home from work at 6 and we sat on the bed together. Mum and Dad called in and stayed until after 8. Dad took me to the fish and chip shop and bought my dinner. We discussed demolishing and re-arranging the kitchen.

Ally, reclining on the settee, propped up by cushions, is very stoic. If an unborn child was developing badly, it is best that it has gone.

News: President Sadat of Egypt was assassinated this afternoon in Cairo. It's only a month since the Prince and Princess of Wales entertained him on the Royal Yacht Britannia. The Middle East will now be in turmoil.

Watched TV. The Horse of the Year Show on the BBC gave way to 'Sadat is Dead' with the Dimbleby circus. It's a fact that I am more aware of the Middle East crisis that our Foreign Secretary, Lord Carrington, who is sleeping in his bed, blissfully unaware, at the Commonwealth Heads of Government meeting in Australia.

Such a horrible day.

-=-

Monday October 5, 1981

 _. Up at 6:30 but ignored the alarm clock until 7:20. Ally, exhausted, remained under her pink quilt. I went to Leeds and phoned Dr Gover. His receptionist went to talk to him and came back with the message that he'll call and see Ally 'one day this week' and that she should remain in bed. She can't go to bed indefinitely - what will Derek Jenkins say?

YP gloomy. 'Mrs Slocombe' has moved into the Cookridge home of ex-President Jimmy Carter look-alike. Sarah announced that 'I might never marry', in a manner somewhat reminiscent of Queen Elizabeth I.

Phoned Mum about Ally. She likes a daily bulletin. The three piece suite returns today from the re-upholsterers. The Pine Tops sitting room now resembles Woburn Abbey.

Home at 6 to find Ally preparing dinner, a casserole. We ate by candlelight. We sat afterwards reading the newspapers. Lord Harewood's autobiography has been published. Did he really kill the poor Princess Royal with his divorce news?

Beethoven, coffee, and Charles Dickens.

-=-

Sunday October 4, 1981

 _. 16th Sunday after Trinity

Warm and bright. A fine day for a baptism. We spent all morning in bed. Auntie Hilda phoned to say that the photographer at Jill and Tim's wedding had forgotten to put a film in his camera on the day. Jill is grief stricken.

The parish church.

To Burley with Mum and Dad at 2:30. Joined by Sue [the godmother], Peter, Chris Baker [the godfather], and Julie, and a host of other unmentionable Bakers. At 3 we wheeled Frances across the road to the parish church where she was baptized at 3:15 in the names Frances Anne, by the Rev Donald [?] Aldred.  The baby objected only very briefly and remained wide-eyed throughout. Susan and Chris were the only sponsors. Back to Lawn Road at 3:45 for a buffet, after a photoshoot in the churchyard. Lots of drink. Mum is never at ease with Audrey Baker. They just never seem to 'hit it off'.

-=-

Saturday October 3, 1981

 _. Up at 7:30 to the sound of the postman. The photographs of Catherine and David's wedding have arrived. We sat in bed looking at the pics. I left Ally in bed.

I went out and bought a conifer and a bag of John Innes potting compost. Came back and spent a couple of hours in the garden like Percy Thrower. 

Mum phoned to say they were in Leeds. I said we'd go over and welcome them back at 7.

An interesting story in the press. A local gent by the name of Nicholas Crosse died last week at the age of 50 and it is rumoured that he was the bastard son of the Duke of Windsor. I don't think it plausible. In 1930 at the time of Crosse's birth the then Prince of Wales was entwined in the grasping arms of Thelma, Viscountess Furness. His long standing relationship with Freda Dudley Ward was drawing to a close, and Mrs Simpson was looming on the horizon. Edward liked his women, but did he go around inpregnating the petty bourgeois wives of minor Bradford wool merchants? It has always been rumoured that the Duke of Windsor was sterile. Certainly, from the time of the birth of Princess Elizabeth in 1926 Queen Mary was very aware the child would one day reign. 

Went to Guiseley at 6:30 with booze and cushions. Mum and Dad came in at 7. Not as tanned as I thought they would be. We stayed the night. Watched the film 'Julia' with Jane Fonda and Vanessa Redgrave.

-=-

Friday October 2, 1981

 _. I went at lunchtime to Leeds Market and bought bananas and leeks, and meat for the week. I am very much like my grandfather Wilson in this respect. He liked nothing better than to be let loose in an old fashioned market with a shopping bag. I can picture him now, coming down Market Place, at Goldthorpe, bearing a bag with fresh foul, feet poking out, and heaps of veg, for Mum. One of my earliest memories is of Grandad plucking a turkey on the kitchen table at Christmas, 1959.

Home at 6 to find Ally a vision in pink. She phoned Bessie. We dined on pork chops, &c. Sat afterwards reading the Times and listening to Beethoven. All that was missing was a pipe of ready rubbed. 

Dave G phoned. He's coming here on Friday Oct 16 for the weekend. In bed at 11 attempting to watch an Alain Delon film but fell asleep.

-=-

Thursday October 1, 1981

 _. I came home at 1pm and found Ally snoozing beneath a large volume of the works of Daphne Du Maurier. It poured with rain, heavily, all day. We sat eating beans on toast discussing money. We aren't doing too badly really.

Sat sticking honeymoon photos into an album, looking out at the grey, watery streets. Were we on a scorched Greek island only two months ago?

At 4:30 I went over to the Co-op and filled a plastic bag with vital necessities. Spent £7.50 on green toilet rolls and pots of yoghurt. Bought Ally some bright yellow flowers.

Dined on fried eggs and chips. In bed at 7:20 watching 'Top of the Pops'. I must be growing old. I fail to understand the appeal of some of the so called new music.

News: Mr Trudeau is asking the Queen for independence for Canada. Lord Ampthill, who famously was the baby in the 1920s Russell legitimacy case, has been appointed a director of the YP. Malcolm Barker brought the peer into the office today. Yer real life lords are two a penny at the Yorkshire Post.

-=-

Wednesday September 30, 1981

 _. JPH is five today and at school. Postcard from Mum and Dad in Alassio - a picture of the Pope's palace at Avignon. Dad is swimming, she says, as she watches, and both are lapping up the wine. They return on Saturday.

Phoned Ally at 11. Home at 6. Had a huge dinner. Went over to the corner shop for a packet of biscuits. In Bradford you cannot buy lemon puffs for love nor money.

We were in bed from 7:30. News: Labour party conference bunkum. Lord Boyle of Handsworth is dead, and so is Bill Shankly. The BBC treat his demise as though he's s world leader cut down in the prime of life. This 68-year-old alcoholic Scot was the manager of a prominent football club, apparently. 

-=-

Tuesday September 29, 1981

 _. I made fried liver and onions and we ate on trays in bed at 7:30pm. Afterwards, still in bed, I had a large drink with bobbing ice cubes, watching Burt Lancaster in 'The Birdman of Alcatraz'. Ally, sticking with Daphne Du Maurier, is now reading 'My Cousin Rachel'.

-=-

Monday September 28, 1981

 _. Up at 6:30 and in the bath. Ally stayed in bed until 10. 

News: Healey won the Labour leadership squabble, but only temporarily. The Princess of Wales has appointed three ladies in waiting. Her third cousin once removed Lavinia Baring, Hazel Alston-Roberts-West, and Anne Beckwith-Smith. No shady former flatmates included here, all traditional household appointments.

Ally went to see Dr Glover at 12:30. ____________.

Home at 6. I made lamb chops for dinner, after a chilled Martini. Ally phoned her parents to be told her mother is ill in bed after drinking too much champagne at Goodwood Races.

-=-

Sunday September 27, 1981

JPH: Fenian.

 _. 15th Sunday after Trinity

The children were playing at garages outside our bedroom door at about 6:30am. Breakfast consisted of eggs, bacon, tinned tomatoes. John and I went to inspect Sandy, the goat. John has always had a rapport with the animal kingdom. I do miss John and wish we could see more of him. JPH, is in Lynn's words, a 'Fenian', an old expression of my grandmother Rhodes.

We left at about 1. A hideous journey. Lynn felt car sick and threw up at Carrutherstown. I sat holding the baby. Home in Bradford for 7:30. Asleep, unconscious for 9:30.

What became of the Labour leadership election? I forgot to listen to the news.

-=-

Saturday September 26, 1981

Port Patrick.

 _. Heavy rain. All at the cottage until after 3 and then we drove to Port Patrick and ate damp hot dogs at a take-away on the harbour there. 

Back at Corner House. Some whisky, but not too much. Bed at 10.

-=-

Friday September 25, 1981

 _. Lord Cornwallis is not dead. He was prematurely reported to have died. A Daily Telegraph error. Heads will be rolling on Fleet Street.

Home at 1 to find Ally, clad in blue. We squabbled. On to Burley at 2, and half an hour later we were in Dave's speedy vehicle heading for Scotland. Ally and I had custody of Frances in the back seat. She's incredible with little fat, brown legs. The replica of a Giles cartoon, all cheeks and flared nostrils.

Towns flashed by. Kirkby Lonsdale, Gretna, Annan, Dumfries, Carrutherstown, Gatehouse of Fleet, &c. It was fine to begin with but the rain set in as we went further north. Arrived at Corner House Cottage, Lochans, at 7. John has done a spectacular job. The birthday boy is also the proud possessor of a Billy Goat called Sandy, and he's living in great comfort. Maria is smoking more, eating less. JPH loves limericks, the majority very rude. He was caught attempting to insert a cocktail stick into baby Frances's ear, apparently to remove the excess ear wax.

Corner House Cottage.

We left Lynn, Dave and Frances and went out with John and Maria to loud and largely empty disco. Some of the girls were in corduroy trousers, shirts and ties, all looking a bit Vita Sackville-West, if you ask me. Lesbians always carry large handbags. Have you noticed? Then, I went for a pee only to find two boys in a somewhat indelicate state of dress, pounding away in one of the cubicles. Blimey, Soddom and Gomorrah.

Home at 12:30. Maria decided to drive without car lights. We sat screaming as the vehicle traversed the dark, country lanes. Sat with Lynn and Dave listening to a Buddy Holly LP.

-=-

Thursday September 24, 1981

 _. Pay day. See in the Daily Telegraph that Lord Cornwallis is dead. He was president of the MCC for many years.

Home at and spent a couple of hours stuffing clothes into bags and stripping the house of vital provisions required for our Scottish jaunt. We went to the supermarket for some last minute things and bumped into Graham Wiles, the EP reporter, rummaging through the packs of frozen lasagne.

Ally ironing [again]. Watched 'Fanny By Gaslight' a new series. We have had a postcard from Graham & Charlotte Smith, in Luxor, Egypt.

-=-

Wednesday September 23, 1981

 _. Felt exhausted all day. I must be growing old.

At the YP, Sat reading the dull morning newspapers. Shocked by a photo of Moss Evans, of the TGWU. He is obviously going the same way as Lord Boyle of Handsworth. From a Harry Secombe shape to Mahatma Gandhi in the space of three months.

Rippon: romance?

Rumours about Angela Rippon and Capt Mark Phillips. Miss Rippon says she has eyes only for her husband to dispell stories of a romance that have surfaced in the Australian press. The little newscaster has been spending a lot of time at Gatcombe Park, supposedly writing a book. This has set tongues wagging.

Sarah has announced that she wants to marry Trevor before Christmas, perhaps on Dec 19. Register offices at the moment are refusing to marry people on a Saturday, but knowing Sarah she'd prefer to marry mid-week, like toffs do.

Home at 6 with a heavy head. Ally feeling not much better. ____________.

Mum and Dad have arrived at the Hotel Adler, in Alessio, where they will remain for a week.

-=-

Tuesday September 22, 1981

Bassey: Goldfinger.

 _. A cheerful day at the YP, and not without incident. Shazzo, looking thinner, bounded into the office with tales of horror and hardship as a captive, for two months, in a seething Turkish city. She suffered serious abuse at the hands of her Turkish husband. Locked in a room with other women, and a record player, the only English voice she heard was that of Shirley Bassey singing 'Goldfinger'. In order to keep sane she sat in the squalid apartment, fingers in ears, singing along with Shirley. Her husband, Mr Kocq, is not coming back to Britain. He was here illegally anyway. Poor Shazzo is seeing a solicitor on Thursday. One can never tell just how much of Shazzo's narrative is genuine, but all the same she wraps it up and presents it very convincingly. She's a latter day Charlotte Bronte, if you ask me.

Home at 6. Spent two hours preparing dinner with Ally. Jill and Tim, the honeymooners, came to dine at 8. Homemade mushroom soup, grilled steak with chips, peas, corn, leek, fried mushrooms, cheesecake, chocolate cake, cream. Lutomer Riesling. They are a marvellous couple, and highly suited, and so 'easy going'.

Bed at 1am. Mum and Dad are at Cavaillon.

-=-

Monday September 21, 1981

 _. I don't like Mondays. It was a hardship saying goodbye to Ally. Is this the way our life is going to be until I'm 65? Working or sleeping?

Gloom at the YP. Sarah had a face like a wet weekend. 'Mrs Slocombe' has returned from her Geneva sojourn with the ex-President Jimmy Carter look-alike. Mrs S looks very pale and I suspect she will have indentations from bed springs deep into her back.

Home at 6. Pork chops. Kitten was a hive of industry tonight. Washing, ironing, bed changing.

Foot: crutches

News: What is all this fuss about the squabble for the deputy leadership of the Labour party? When the victor is announced what will it mean? The title 'deputy leader' is worthless anyway. It's Michael Foot's job that's at stake if you ask me. To see the old boy staggering around Moscow on crutches is pitiful. Saw on the 9 o'clock news that the TGWU is to back Wedgwood Benn and not Healey. Healey was in front but is now 'neck and neck' with Benn. Laughable.

Mum and Dad are at Rully, in the Saône-et-Loire, tonight. Lucky buggers. Bed at 11 after a Michael Caine epic. Ally was collapsed over a Agatha Christie.

-=-

Sunday September 20, 1981

 _. 14th Sunday after Trinity

We said goodbye to Mum and Dad at about 9pm last night. They left for the continent at 7am, staying tonight at Dunkirk. It all shrieks of the Second World War and not a holiday. 

We slept until about 11 and had a long, leisurely luncheon. Roast beef, flat Yorkshire puds, &c.

Hardy as Churchill.

Jim and Margaret dropped in at 3pm with details of an advert they want to place in the EP.

Did nothing but watch TV and listen to the radio. I cannot decide whether I like the latest Churchill drama. It's hard to imagine Winnie and Clem tucked up in bed together. They are too recent. It's perhaps easier to see Queen Anne in bed, or the Duke of Wellington or Lord Kitchener [who according to Lady Diana Cooper, liked to be flogged by boys], but not Winston.

-=-

Saturday September 19, 1981

 _. Sunny and blustery. Was splashing in the bath at 8:30.  We were ready for 11. Ally, quite stunning, in her tulip dress. We had a photo shoot in the garden. The neighbours, behind their nets, envious of our high social life. Our comings and goings have brought a touch of Edwardian splendour to this quiet Lidget Green enclave.

Met Mum, Dad, Sue & Pete at noon in the Farmers Arms, Thornbury, and went on to Pudsey Parish Church at 12:45, overtaking Uncle Tony and the bride in their stately Rolls Royce on the way. Wedding was at 1. The vicar, obviously going for the world record, had them married by 1:15 and out onto the lawn for a lengthy photographic session with a fat fellow in a demob suit. In church Tim shook throughout, slightly more worried about the rupture in the Elmer family and where it might lead, than his performance before the vicar. Auntie Mabel wailed throughout. It was perhaps the hymn 'O Perfect Love' that did it.

The receeption was held at Pudsey Civic Hall. Baby Frances took a lot of the attention. She is perhaps one of the finest babies I have seen. I know the current baby is always the finest, but she is a wonder.

Back to Wilsby at 5. No punch ups. Back to the Civic Hall at 7:30, in pouring rain, for a party until midnight. A vast and merry throng too numerous to mention. Joined by Dave L. We sat with Lynn and Dave but I cannot recall any of the conversation. You know how I forget things after a long day with heavy spirits. Home wet at 12. We were invited back to Wilsby but thought the better of it.

[Photographs to accompany the entry to follow]

-=-

Friday September 18, 1981

 _. Feel ghastly. Staggered into the YP for three miserable hours. Made good my escape at 12 and met Ally at 12 at her sun-ray centre and then we went to buy a handbag and the weekly veg. A brisk walk through the fishmongers in John Street market cleared the cobwebs from my befuddled brain.

Ally it seems, always comes out of these debauched evenings with apparently no ill effect. I put it down to her youth.

We went to Pine Tops at 3 and found Mum and Dad reclining in deckchairs in the sitting room because of the lack of furniture. No, it isn't because the bailiffs have been, or anything like that. The three piece suite is being reupholstered. The settee is rare. It's a five seater. 

We went to Menston to collect my morning suit from Charles the Tailor, then to Morrison's, and finally to Harry Ramsden's for fish and chips. We went back to Pine Tops until 9:30 watching the Leeds Triennial Piano competition. A frightened German youth gave a marvellous job of Rachmaninov's 2nd piano concerto. Always a moving piece. Mum and Dad are like young lovers. 

-=-

Thursday September 17, 1981

 _. Pay day. I received a tax rebate, at long last. £68.70. Went out at lunchtime feeling like a millionaire. Bought a 'Haddon Hall' tea saucer for our set, and Agatha Christie's 'Murder at the Vicarage'. Ally is obsessed by the super-sleuth, Hercule [Poirot], and is ceaseless in her reading.

Dismal at the YP. 'Mrs Slocombe' is still in Gstaad with 'Jimmy Carter'. Sarah went off to a Yorkshire Post Literary lunch where the guest speaker is Topol, of all people. Kathleen, still not smoking, was in a foul mood. She went on and on pulling Bradford to pieces. OK, it aint Naples or Venice, but is it on a lower level than Leeds? 

I am told that Lord Boyle of Handsworth is dying and so I spent some time putting his file in order.  The poor man's been eaten away by cancer, but he has kept going.

King Arms, Tong.

Home at 6 to Ally and lasagne. Then into a steaming bath. My mother wouldn't approve. She insists that it's dangerous to submerge oneself into hot water straight after eating.

To Pudsey at 7:30 to the King's Arms at Tong with Jill, Tim, Karen, Steve, Diane, Paul, Hilda [drinking pints], Tony, Geoff Elmer, Margaret, Eugene, Tracy, &c. A drunken evening. I was drinking pils lager. Back at 11 to the Sanderson pile for a couple of hours. They all had a curry [of which Ally partook], and I found myself smoking.

-=-

Wednesday September 16, 1981

 _. I could now be watching a party political broadcast by the Labour party, but I'm not. I have left the room. 

News: The Liberal party have formed an alliance with the SDP. So, it looks like Roy Jenkins will be prime minister in 1984. I don not think Mrs Thatcher will rellish a united opposition, when the present official opposition under Mr Foot is such an easy push over. 

Lichfield: best dressed.

Royal News: The Prince and Princess of Wales are going to Klosters in the New Year. The Queen's assistant press secretary, Anne Wall, has resigned to become an extra Woman of the Bedchamber. Over at Kensington Palace Princess Margaret has made it known that she would like to marry again, one day. Lord Lichfield has been voted the 'Best Dressed Man of the Year'.

Phoned Ally. She says he senile Welsh boss 'smells of human excretia', and has had an accident in his Welsh underpants.

Phoned Mum. her hair, she says, is now curly.

The girls in the office today are morose. Sarah is low. Her dullness is due to the rising mortgage rate. Kathleen, unsmiling, was sucking on 'Victory Vs'.

Home at 6. Chicken soup and sandwiches. Dave G phoned at 8:30. He informs me that Billy recently visited Soho, and the delights of a sauna. Oh dear.

We made a lasagne for tomorrow, and read.

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Tuesday September 15, 1981

Len Murray: in rags

 _. Busy day. Study Mrs Thatcher's wonderful Cabinet changes. I hope that Mr Tebbit will stick his boot into the trade unions. I'd like to see Len Murray in rags, on his knees, begging for his life. Have I spoken recently about the Social Democrats? A Mori poll published in the Times yesterday says that the Liberal party, in alliance with the SDP, could win an overall majority at the next general election. I loathe the very idea of such a union, but this outcome would be better than the Labour alternative. I despise David Steel, but can easily envisage Shirley Williams and Roy Jenkins wielding power. The Liberal party conference:  John Pardoe [who is he?] suggests that Roy Jenkins asked to join the Liberals, but that Steel advised him to see what Shirley, David and Bill [Rodgers?] were doing first. Implausible. God Save Mrs Thatcher. I am very happy with the Conservative Government and hope it goes on and on.

My father-in-law's 54th birthday. We posted a card with a cheque for £5, but otherwise didn't hear from Chillandham Cross.

We had an enormous dinner. Meat, mounds of dumplings, cauiflower cheese, Uncle Tony's home-grown beans. No wonder I'm stacking on the weight. 

Phoned Susie to talk about Thursday but she was far from enthusiastic. She tires so easily and is in bed by 9:30. She's been out with Peter and Jim to buy a pram.

Ovaltine and Charles II. Bed at 10:30.

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Monday September 14, 1981

 _. Boiled eggs. To the YP. 

News: The prime minister has sacked the Cabinet 'wets'. [James] Prior goes to Northern Ireland as secretary of state where I suppose Mrs T hopes he'll be bombed. Sir Ian Gilmour returns to the 'back benches' as does Mark Carlisle. Lord Soames is out and Lord Thorneycroft has been put out to retirement. [Norman] Tebbit is now Employment secretary, and a lady, Baroness Young, becomes Leader of the House of Lords. Is this a first?

The horrid boy who fired blank shots at the Queen in June has been jailed for 5 years. Khalid Aziz has been sacked from 'Nationwide'.

Phoned John and Maria to confirm our visit to Lochans on Sept 25. Phoned Lynn, and then Sue, but it was much too late to speak to her. She's always in bed at 9.

We had left over roast chicken and salad and polished off the Riesling. Alison to bed with Agatha Christie. She's book mad.

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Sunday September 13, 1981

 _. 13th Sunday after Trinity

We had a restless night. Ally wasn't comfortable. We were up at 8:30. 

Phoned Lynn. Frances is to be christened on October 4 at Burley. The vicar has requested that all godparents should preferably be confirmed. None of us are. She says Chris Ratcliffe is going to Scotland on Sept 25, and thinks we shouldn't go. I say we should, and will phone Maria tomorrow. Mum is having Sue & Pete for lunch.

Ally made scrambled eggs and then put a chicken in the pot. She is bursting with activity. 

We drove to Pudsey at 2. Wilsby was deserted and so was Jill's at Valley Rd, so we phoned Mum to be told the Gadsbys were at at Pudsey St Lawrence Cricket Club's Donkey Derby. A village affair. We went along an I won £2.50 on a donkey. We sat on the damp lawn and had ice cream. Karen, Steve, Jill, Tim, Diane, Paul, and Marlene and the children. Then back to Wilsby until 9. By 9:30 were were at home. I was pissed. Had roast chicken washed down with Riesling. Watched Robert Hardy as Churchill, then plunged into a bath. Bed at 12.

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Saturday September 12, 1981

Harrogate: 1981

 _. Up at 8:30 raring to go. In Harrogate for 10:30. Ally looking for a dress for Jill & Tim's wedding. We had a frustrating hour without success. She saw a pink silk suit costing £70, but didn't buy. Most of the mannequins were dressed in 'Lady Di' style, and all the shops were the same, apparently. So, from Harrogate we drove to York where she found a pink dress covered in white tulips, and for only £11 at a shop called Sarah Coggles. Very sexy.

In York we went into the wrong pub, which was rough, and had cold steak and kidney pie, and vowed never to eat out in York again. We have yet to find a decent pub in the centre of York. The locals were alien and looked to be part of the criminal fraternity. Pagan in fact. Heavy tattoos, &c. And even the women looked like rugby prop forwards. Ally, bless her, asked if the large building dominating the city was the 'cathedral'. I just gave her a black look. 

On to Leeds and the shops. Bought nothing. Home with aching feet. Out at 7 to a run-down wine bar and then Pizzeria Mama Mia's on Manningham Lane for scampi and lasagne. Ally had a corn on the cob which oozed over her frock. Home at 9:30.

Dame Edna on the telly. Hilarious. A good day.

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Friday September 11, 1981

_. Marlene 36. YP. Penny Austin-Clarke accused me of 'sciving' yesterday. Some people are very perceptive, aren't they?

The Alexandra.

Spoke to Ally briefly. We decided to go out tonight. By 7 we were at the Alexandra in Harrogate [a Berni Inn]. T-bone steaks. Very romantic. We walked around Harrogate afterwards and decided to come back to the shops tomorrow. Whatever became of the Damn Yankee? I couldn't find it anywhere.

Home at 11.

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Thursday September 10, 1981

 _. Woke at 5am, then 6, and finally at 7. Ally went off to the AHA leaving me with the washing up. A sunny morning and I went out armed with a brush and bucket of soapy water to give the windows a going over. The woman two doors down was casting admiring glances at my wash leather. 

Spoke to Lynn. They dined at Salvo's last night [Headingley] and had a drink at the Fox & Hounds in Bramhope.

Ally came in at 11:30 __________________.

I sat this afternoon drinking coffee and reading the Daily Telegraph to the backdrop of moronic Radio One. Still reading Fraser's Charles II. Ally was home at 5 and at 6 we went to Mum's for roast beef, Yorkshire pudding. Mum picked some wedding photos for her album. Margaret and Jim came at 9 and we left at about 11.

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Wednesday September 9, 1981

 _. Lynn and David married three years ago today and we have forgotten to post a card of congratulations. Went off to the YP leaving Ally, looking pale, who is going to see a doctor.

Lynn.

I had a bad head all afternoon and felt sick. Feel as though I've been up all night. Lynn has been shopping in Leeds, getting things for Jill's wedding, and then lunching with David, and she appeared at the office at about 2 and I escorted her to a bus stop on Wellington Street. Saw the amiable tart Pam at the bus stop who said Shazzo was due home from Turkey last week, but never arrived. Mrs Cohen, Shazzo's mum, is in hospital again.

Home at 6. She is sick of being harassed by Derek Jenkins. She thinks he's insane. Spaghetti. 

Bed at 9:30.

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Tuesday September 8, 1981

 _. Three months married is an exciting time.  ______________.

YP: Did some background for Bob [Cockroft] and the People column. Lady Feversham gave birth to a son in York on Sunday, and Charles Forbes Adam, a grandson of a former YP chairman, is engaged. quite mundane really.

Spoke to Derek Jenkins [Ally was out of the office], and he didn't bother to tell her I'd phoned. Phoned Mum. They were at Hilda and Tony's last night and I was reminded the night of hideous drinking in celebration of the coming nuptials of Jill & Tim is almost upon us. May God see us safely through the ordeal. 

Greatest Aussie lady.

Saw Dame Edna [Everage] interviewed on Nationwide. Surely the greatest Australian lady of all time?

Michael Foot on the news making a heart-rending speech calling for party unity, and as usual he had to mention Aneurin Bevan. He always does. His oratory won't do a blind bit of good. Wedgwood Benn will take the leadership even if it takes him 20 years. I cannot wait for that to happen because who on earth would vote Labour with that buffoon in charge?

Mrs Thatcher has been at Balmoral. The prime minister goes every year in August for a weekend as the Queen's guest, but the word from the heather is that Mrs T is there to brief HM on her coming Cabinet changes. What rot. The re-shuffle might never come.

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