Sunday August 30, 1981

 _. 11th Sunday after Trinity

Up at about 10. We were denied the usual vast breakfast because were were going out to lunch. A great debate on the location took place first. Joined by Graham and Gill and Andrew [clad in his leatherwear, astride his gleaming machine] and off we went to the Plough at Sparsholt. Spent a couple of hours in the beer garden. A plastic ploughman's lunch, beer and gin. Graham is a delightful 'show off', and has been encouraged in this attitude for his whole life by his father. Bessie was drinking gin, and had the giggles.

Ally at Avington.

Back at the house Frank disappeared into his study with a bottle of paint stripper and we didn't see him again. Ally says her father finds relaxation a bore.

Ally and I went for a walk in the grounds of Avington House, in the village, and drifted inside to be given a guided tour around the impoverished mansion by the owner, a Colonel Hickson, who has been there since 1953. He's a bluff old boy trying desperately to keep the place afloat. It's a fine 17th century pile built by the Duke of Chandos, and, according to the colonel, Charles II and Nell Gwynn stayed there.

Afterwards we went looking for blackberries, and whilst midst the brambles Ally suggested going to dinner at Salisbury. Such a good idea. Off we went to the County Hotel [a Berni Inn] for a rump steak. A group of very noisy Americans were at the next table. Salisbury Cathedral, floodlit, is one of the finest ecclesiastical erections I have ever encountered.

Back to the Plough, Itchen Abbas, at 9:45 to join Graham, Gill, her brother, Peter Lynn, and his heavily pregnant wife, who are moving to Ayr on Monday, or Wednesday.

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Saturday August 29, 1981

 _. After breakfast we took off in the Triumph Dolomite, at speed, with Bessie to Southampton. We went to Habitat to buy Jill and Tim a decanter and glasses, and some tin boxes for Catherine and David. We went to Woolworths for some wire and then back to Martyr Worthy for 1:30. 

Chilland Barn.

Graham and Gill took us to the Cricketer's at Easton, full of flies, but had an excellent lunch. Ploughman's lunch with Stilton. 

After lunch Ally and I went to Alfresford and bought an old photo, an Edwardian lady, in a frame. She's called Phyllis.

Later, at 6:30 Frank and Bessie took us across the road to Chilland Barn, the beautiful home of Freddie and Avril Hargreaves. They are Welsh and he has made his millions as accountant to the Julian Hodge empire. They were very friendly. I came away with feelings of envy, which I do not like.

To Southampton with Graham and Gill at 10 to Lalupa's for a moderate pizza. Back to Graham and Gill's at Chandler's Ford for whisky.

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Friday August 28, 1981

John and Raine Spener at Althorp.

 _. Hot day. After a couple of hours at the YP with a very bronchil Mrs Slocombe and Kathleen I was met by Ally at 12:30 and off we went for our Bank Holiday break. It was a warm and clammy journey down the M1, in chugging Audrey. We arrived at Althorp House at 3. A splendid house, and not too large. We were given a guided tour around the Spencer pile by an old lady with a blue rinse and pearls. Sadly, the Spencers are away. Johnny sometimes greets the guests himself. It is obvious that Raine [Countess Spencer] has made her mark here. The guide hurried us past the Van Dycks and the Rubens and the Vermeers to bring our attention to a shoddy portrait of Raine's grandfather by Oswald Birley. The desks too, all Chippendale, groaned beneath Raine's family album snaps. Althorp is undergoing some renovation work and some of the rooms are beneath dust sheets, and scaffolding clings to some of the facades. But all the same it's an excellent joint. We also inspected the gardens. We had salad sandwiches in the car.

After a three hour drive we were in Martyr Worthy [our only other stop was at Brackley, where we had 'flat' lager in a pub there].

Bessie was in her usual state of high fluster and Frank was in his study, and this too is undergoing some renovation. Graham and Gill came in from a night at the Plough. He is more delightfully silly than ever.

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Thursday August 27, 1981

 _. We are both becoming weight conscious. This morning Ally [naked] weighed in a 7st 5lb, whilst I [naked] weighed in at exactly 12 st [that's 192 pounds]. I think this is the first time I have committed my weight to paper. In fact, I rarely ever weigh myself. I recall that in the summer of '77 I was a feeble 10st.

As I headed out to the office today Ally mumbled something about seeing a solicitor today to cite Delia as 'the other woman' in her expensive divorce case.

Auntie Delia.

Just Kathleen and I in the office. I went out at 12 to meet Delia on Wellington Street. She pleaded that parking in town is such a bore, and says 'come back to Horsforth for a Martini on the lawn'. And so it came to pass. We sat on the manicured lawn at Ivory Towers. She made me salami sandwiches and we sank a bottle of Martini whilst Delia flicked through the wedding photos. She commented that Ally's dress was exqusite. The house was deserted but for the Shih Tzu dogs. Sarah is somewhere with Trevor and poor Delia doesn't have a clue where he lives. Most odd. She deposited me back at the YP for 1pm, but my rushing back to work was in vain because Kathleen decided to work through, sacrificing her lunch. An industrious afternoon.

Mum phoned to say she and Papa were just about to leave for Scotland.

Home [82 degrees farenheit]. Went out for fish and chips at 8 o'clock. Phoned Dave G. Jim sounds to be fading. Lily was very depressed. 

I packed the suitcase tonight in readiness for my first visit to Chillandham Cross as a member of the family.

-=-

Mick Jagger on 'Top of the Pops' looks so healthy for his 63 years.

Wednesday August 26, 1981

 _. Extremely hot. YP. Too hot to work. 'Mrs Slocombe' went off home early with a 'cold'. She has always been very bronchil.

After lunch Ally phoned. Gillian is driving her to distraction. She is so sick of work at the AHA.

Delia phoned suggesting we meet for lunch tomorrow. Does Auntie have lustful designs on my firm, youthful and nubile form?

Home at 6 and spent some considerable time in the bath watching Ally paint her finger and toe nails. We then went to Lynn and Dave's at 7:30 for fish pie - too much food. We peeped in on Frances slumbering in her cot. We marvelled at the little miracle which gives lovers such fruit. [Blimey, that sounds almost poetic].

Home after 11. Bloated.

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Tuesday August 25, 1981

 _. Up at 6:30 and out to inspect the blackened street. It wouldn't have been such a loss to have lost Audrey in a ball of fire last night. The insurance money would have been nice. Over toast and syrup with Mrs Rhodes I discussed the possibility of bringing the youths back to finish the job properly.

The YP was abysmal yet again. The office is becoming deader and deader. The only excitement came at 3:20 when Margot swatted and killed a particularly annoying fly.

John & Maria.

Home to my loved one at 6. I phoned Mum to tell her of last night's excitement and she informed me that John and Maria will not be coming down from Scotland for Jill and Tim's wedding. Mum says John cannot have the day off work, and mournfully adds we won't be seeing them until Christmas.

Ally had created a marvellous tea. Succulent sandwiches including prawns and cheese. We cuddled on our little settee. We watched part two of the drama about Charles Dilke, and the scandal of 1885. Good, but not very convincing. Charles Dilke stood about much chance of becoming prime minister as Jessie Matthews, if you ask me. To bed with Charles II. We had eaten too much. I feel very 'Falstaffian'.

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Monday August 24, 1981

 _. St Bartholemew's Day

The anniversary in 1572 of the slaughter of 30,000 Huguenots by King Charles IX of France and his infamous mother Catherine de Medici.

Abysmal day at the YP. I use the word abysmal because Graham, my brother-in-law, uses it constantly to describe virtually everything from my green SAS-tyle trousers to his cold corn on the cob at the Connection restaurant. I spent the afternoon reading about Ronald Reagan's attack on Libya, and wholeheartedly agree with his decision. He may wear too much Brylcreem, but he's no fool. Articles about Joan of Arc in the Guardian and the Sunday Telegraph magazine.  There's a rumour going about that Carola Godman Irvine is to be the Princess of Wales's lady-in-waiting. She's currently one of the Duchess of Kent's ladies.

Sarah has gone on holiday for the week. Phoned Mum and spoke to Lynn, lunching there with Frances. We are dining at Burley on Wednesday. Mum is thinking of going to Scotland for the Bank Holiday weekend.

Audrey.

Home at 6. Had kidneys and rice. We discussed going to Hilda and Tony's but decided to go tomorrow instead. Ally disappeared outside with a bucket of soapy water to give Audrey a wash. The car hasn't been touched with a wash leather since we entered into Holy Matrimony.

Watched a drama on the life of Sir Charles Dilke, 2nd Baronet [1843-1911]. Quite good.

To bed at 11:15 but, dear me, the night was far from over. At 11:30 I heard the noise of a fracas outside and looking out I saw three youths, obviously intoxicated, urinating upon Mrs O'Connor's gate. [sorry, I mean Mrs O'Brien]. The boys had pushed a broken down car into Club Street and then went off with a can, laughing, to find petrol. I then went back to bed only to be rudely awakened at 12:15 by Ally screaming. Outside the lads had set fire to the car and the flames were licking around Audrey, threatening to blast our car and the whole of Club St into oblivion. Ally, in floods of tears, answered the door to Mrs O'Brien, who was worried about our car. I phoned 999 and the fire brigade and police were soon here. It hadn't been a deliberate attack. One of the drunks, pouring a can of petrol into his tank was also smoking a cig, and ignited the fuel. Sorry, I cannot give you a tale to match Pepys's account of the Great Fire of London.

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