Sunday August 9, 1981

 _. 8th Sunday after Trinity

Up at about 9:30. Graham phoned. We arranged to meet them at Wilsden at 12:30.

Meanwhile, Ally decided to wash a heap of shirts in the new machine and, to our horror, everything came out a dirty shade of blue. Her pretty yellow t-shirt was green, and my Hawaii-style shirt, bought in Ibiza, was unrecognisable. She sat very glumly as I explained how every novice housewife, entrusted with a new device for washing, makes the mistake of dyeing everything pea-green and Queen Mother powder-puff blue, and that it is all part of life's glorious tapesty, and a murky blue one at that. She didn't accept my findings, and I was almost the victim of a washing machine murder.

Dali: The Great Masturbator.

To Wilsden at 12:30. Graham, Gill, Richard, Eileen, Philip and Carol Middlebrook [sic], and later, the actor, Anthony [Browne]. Gill, always risque, brought up the subject of Salvador Dali and his phallic symbols. We all studied a photo in one of the Sunday papers entitled 'The Great Masturbator'. I would not want it on my chimney breast, although I do like Dali as a rule. Eileen is sweet. A true Londoner.

On to the Middlebrough/Middlebrooks where Anthony told us tales of a recent holiday with his aged parents in Paris. His mother, he says, vomitted off the top of the Eiffel Tower. 

Home at 4. Ally slept on top of the Union Jack cushion. Finished Agatha Christie's 'The Pale Horse'. Minced beef for Sunday dinner. Phoned Mum who was miserable. 'I thought you'd emigrated' she moaned. I only spoke to her on Thursday. I thought they'd be happy getting rid of me. Apparently not.

Watched a film based on the life of actor James Dean. Bed at 12.

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Saturday August 8, 1981

 _. Awakened at 9am by the postman bearing a book from the book club entitled 'Book of the Countryside' including 1,000 days out in Britain. I could have knocked him out with it. Felt quite horrid and returned to bed until 12. 

Lynn phoned to see if we fancied a day out. We had to say no because we have to wait here for the delivery man from Vallance's with our WASHING MACHINE.  Yes, a Phillips WO82 automatic. They carried it in at 12 and within minutes it was filled with my soiled underpants and socks. We sat eating to the sound of our new toy bashing away in the kitchen.

Auntie Mabel.

Phoned Auntie Mabel and arranged to visit her this evening. At 3 we went out on an antique shop motor run and we ended up in Thackley looking at a drop-leaf table costing £50. Very tempting, but we came away empty handed. If the table is still there next weekend we'll put down a deposit and collect it later in the month. We did find an old, tatty picture frame for £2 and on returning home I put my 'Egerton Burnett' print in the frame and hung it in the hallway upstairs. Very proud of this achievment. I stood, eyes half shut, admiring my handiwork for ages.

We dined on steak and kidney pudding with cauliflower cheese. Ally is an admirable cook.

To Auntie Mabel's at 8:45 armed with wedding proofs and honeymoon photos. Marlene and Debbie came to view the photos. We sat with auntie until almost 1am, had sandwiches for supper, then drove the ten minutes back to Club St.

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Friday August 7, 1981

 _. Rain continues. Some areas are completely submerged. At the YP Sarah was back, surprisingly enough. Out at lunchtime and I had a salad sandwich beneath the overhanging concrete monstrosity of John Poulson's international swimming pool. It ought to be demolished, it really should.

Graham & Gill.

Home at 6. Sandwiches again. We plunged into the bath. Graham and Gill arrived at 9. They are in Yorkshire for the golden wedding anniversary party of Anthony Brown's parents tomorrow. Out at 9:30 to the Sun Inn at Cottingley. With Graham, Gill, Richard, Eileen, Philip and Carol Middlebrough. I was in good spirits and, when intoxicated, amused everyone with my quick wit and sharp and fast flowing repartee. I joked with Carol. She has a hamster, and has an unhealthy fixation for it. I attempted to persuade her to exchange it for a guinea pig. From Cottingley we went to the Connection in Shipley. I had a cold corn on the cob, and a moderate to fair lasagne. Eileen had been in Hyde Park for the royal wedding fireworks. She described the atmosphere in London as 'electric' but that the actual display was a flop. Not a patch on the Jubilee fireworks in '77. Back to Philip and Carol's at Wilsden. A new house on a housing estate. Home at 2:45am.

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Thursday August 6, 1981

 _. A deluge. Rain from dawn until dusk. Out into a grey, Bradford morning brandishing my umbrella.

At the office Sarah left early. She's ill. Busy morning. At lunchtime I strolled into town beneath my rain shielding implement. Spent some time in a book shop speed reading Anthony Holden's 'Their Royal Highnesses', the story of the romance between the P of W and Lady Diana Spencer. Back at the office I penned a pathetic letter to Ally, the first since our nuptials.

Phoned Ally twice and Mummy once. Poor Mum sounded dismal. More people have looked at Pine Tops, and always seem thrilled with the place, but go away and afterwards - silence. So frustrating. Nothing runs smoothly in these toilsome times. 

Ally met me at the station at 5:30 and we went up to Morrison's for another minor shopping spree. The place was seeithing with cretinous hags with over-ladened trollies. Dave L joined us 8:15 until 10. We discussed pianos. He wants to buy his Mum a second hand piano at Yuletide. Ally can of course play one, but she knows nothing about the instrument. We drank lager and lime, and wine. Dave quite amazed by the vast number of wedding/honeymoon photographs.

Graham Dixon phoned. Bed 12.

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