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. 

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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.

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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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