Friday December 11, 1981

Geoff Hemingway.

 _.Frost and ice, but no snow yet. Spoke to Geoff Hemingway, EP news editor, who suggests I write for the paper on royal or local society news. He suggests we meet later to discuss ideas and that I should work under his guidance. He spoke to Malcolm Barker who announced that my work should receive 'every encouragement'. Could this be the start of something big? Will Eamonn Andrews one day be knocking on my door? Kathleen, who was listening in, was thrilled. She is convinced I'll make a writer. I'm too good for the YP library that's for sure, not meaning to come across as big headed. Good God, I'm no Napoleon, but some ambition is perhaps desirable.

Stephanie [Ferguson] has given me a book on the coming royal baby. It's a ghastly book, but has some interesting pictures. Stephanie says an astrologer has descided that the infant prince will be named 'David George'. No chance.

Once again the car battery is on charge tonight. We can only hope and pray that it will be suitably rejuvenated for tomorrow's Stockport visit. 

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Thursday December 10, 1981

Audrey.

 _.The car showed no sign of life this morning at 6:30 and we abandoned all hope of getting her to go. We phoned Lynn to cancel our dinner date tonight at Burley. She says that fortunately she's made something which will keep. Today Lynn and Sue received copies of the Wilson family tree. All the family born since Squire Wilson in June 1836.

Bob [Cockroft] has used one of my tips. Lady Ellerman, widow of Sir John Ellerman, 2nd and last baronet, of the shipping line, has married the Hon George Borwick, in South Africa. Lady Ellerman, in her sixties, was the sole beneficiary under Sir John's £54m will  when he died in 1973. Just imagine fifty four million smackers. 

Ally was raging in frustration over the car. Audrey has caused us to cancel two engagements this week. The choice of a Citroen Dyan is the worst mistake we've made. I removed the battery [again] and put it on charge using Papa's battery charger. The dial on the machine wobbled, but only slightly, but Papa insists that that this doesn't mean the battery is exhausted. I expected more visible evidence of the existence of life.

Thick frost tonight. We watched a poor thriller starring Judy Geeson. To bed at about 10.

-=-

Wednesday December 9, 1981

 _.I have received a letter from The Times on behalf of the editor and a 'contrite' Philip Howard who blames his ridiculous article on Nov 30 on a 'too hasty preparation'. Philip Howard is usually knowledgeable and a reliable journalist, but this has let him down badly. It was good of the editor to reply. They ignored by last letter in August.

Took a half day and met Ally at the abandoned car at 1:15, and removed the battery and took it away to the nearest garage to be re-charged, at the cost of 75p. This seems exceptionally reasonable. One doesn't expect to walk away from a garage without spending at least £360. We shared a Mars bar [lunch?] and then Ally made her way back up the slippery path to the AHA. She was home at 5 and I watched her alight from the bus.

We had eggs and chips, collected the car battery and took it to Audrey where we re-inserted it by torchlight. After a half hour struggle with the starting handle [which doesn't actually start the car but frees the engine] we drove over to Guiseley and sat with Mum and Dad drinking the occasional beer, and watched The Borgias until about 10:45.

Ally is exhausted tonight. The walk to and from Daisy Bank is to blame. Freezing cold and snow on the way. Are we in for a white Christmas? When was the last one? 1970? 1683? 1472BC?

Tuesday December 8, 1981

 _.Bitterly cold. Hideous car news. Home at 6. Steak and kidney with dumplings. Ally excited to be going out tonight to see cousin Jackie. We haven't ventured out for God knows how long. 

We went out at 8, and the car wouldn't start and so, bright spark here, pushed Audrey out of Club Street and down the hill in the hope that the roll would 'jump start' her. Ally took the wheel but the car was dead and after some yards the car came to a grinding halt, a sad and depressing halt. Nothing could be done, and so we deserted Audrey and walked back to Club St. 

Ally was close to tears with frustration and disappointment. That, she says, is it. The car is going to the knackers yard. I phoned Sue to ask about Pete's battery charger. She's as dotty as ever. I then phoned Jackie, who was waiting for us and has made a lasagne. Without further ado, she deposited the lasagne in her car and drove to us [minus the dog]. She then drove us down to inspect the car in the blackness of the night. We slipped and slid around the dormant vehicle.

Home at 10 to Jackie's lasagne. I showed Jackie the Wilson family tree and was excited to learn that Auntie Eleanor has some documents. She left at 11 and we sat until 12:30 - bloated. Certainly didn't expect food this evening.

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Monday December 7, 1981

 _.Something is wrong with Audrey. She wouldn't start this morning. Poor Ally had to abandon her and walk. I don't like her walking all the way to the AHA especially in winter. 

Nothing at the YP. Home at 6 for a mince concoction. Then a thrilling episode of Coronation Street, shortly celebrating it's 21st birthday. I brewed and bottled some ale. 

I phoned the Hollywood to speak to Dave G , but to my surprise Lily answered and for a while I was speechless. The funeral takes place tomorrow. Dave came on, sounding mournful, and said Lily will be joining us at Steak Kebabs on Saturday. Such a good idea. Dave has a loathing for ceremonial and will be happy when tomorrow is over.

Outside this evening in the frost to put a blanket under Audrey's bonnet.

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Sunday December 6, 1981

 _. 2nd Sunday in Advent

Woke up at 10 after a bad night. My nose running like the Nile. Could it be cat hairs from the Smiths?

After a large breakfast we headed out to Grassington and the Devonshire Arms where we sat supping ale. Charlotte, clutching a ginger wine, looked over at me and exclaimed that lager and lime is a 'female drink'. She studied me very searchingly as though my reaction was vital to her survey. She is a person who tends to pigeon-hole everyone and everything, and because of my pint I'm now in the same hole as Jeremy Thorpe, Larry Grayson and Sir Benjamin Britten.

We did the usual round of craft shops, but bought nothing. We made our way to Burley for 5 to let Charlotte inspect Frances. Baby was in front of the fire wrapped in white wool and pink ribbons, but unhappy and restless. Lynn says it's because of her teeth. Our stay was only brief and we left so that Graham and Charlotte can go on to Manchester [or was it Rochdale?] for a paella with other friends. They left at 6pm. We cannot decide whether they enjoy our company or not. They must do, or why would they bother coming?

Sat by the fire and wrote Christmas cards. Watched the Borgias. Before he left Graham commented that the series is very poor and that the Borgias were not quite as nasty or ruthless as they make out.

Bed after 11.

-=-