Monday October 11, 1982

 Columbus Day, USA - Thanksgiving Day, Canada

Raising Mary Rose.

What's this Columbus Day? The Tudor flagship Mary Rose was raised this morning and its ancient timbers saw the first light of day since July 1545 when it went down with all hands before a purple King Henry VIII. The Prince of Wales was present to witness the surfacing. Sadly, they found no survivors. I was hoping to catch a glimpse of Sir George Carew, the admiral, thrashing around in the deep clad in his hose and doublet.

Home from the YP. No curtains. The little creep in the curtain shop has forgotten us. Ally stood pulling faces at the offending red, striped curtains which we thought we'd seen the last of. We ate lasagne and watched 'Coronation Street'. Phoned Guiseley and spoke to John. Mum and Dad have been looking at a pub in Darley and have gone to see Joe and Anne Grunwell. John's thinking of going to Scotland at the weekend, if he isn't working on Teesside. 

Read Fanny Hill. Ally weary. Bed after 11. Ally says my cocoa is getting worse.

[Bessie phoned on Thursday I've just remembered. Philip and Carol Middlebrough's baby is to be called Thomas].

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Sunday October 10, 1982

 18th Sunday after Trinity

I awoke to find myself facing a blank, unfamiliar wall. Ally heaped up behind me. The bed was too small. Steve was on the phone downstairs. He had slept in late and was arranging to play football at 10. Karen made toast and marmalade and awful tea and she excused herself by saying she never drinks the stuff. She was drinking Coca Cola. Ally looked dreadful. John's eyes pink. After the marmalade we escaped to Rue Club. We sat with sandwiches, drugs and coffee watching David Niven and June Allyson on the BBC. John left at 3:30 and we lounged on. Ate fish. Fanny Hill. TV. Bed. Our new curtains come tomorrow.

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Saturday October 9, 1982

 Fanny Hill is the most sexually explicit thing I've ever had the fortune to read. It's hard to imagine it was written 200 years ago. 

Up at 8 o'clock, and finished off painting the front door. I am now that person I would have roared with laughter at five years ago. Painting a door shrouded in the autumn mist of early morn. Silly bugger.

Ally made haste to the Co-op and then we had breakfast. I bottled beer and then waited for the paint to dry before we went into town. The hot bus made Ally feel faint. We bought a lampshade for the kitchen and other odds and ends. 

If you think my handwriting has deteriorated then blame the fountain pen which is more or less knackered. It hasn't had a new nib since April, 1973. 

Salad sandwiches. Splashed in the bath. John came at 6:45 with the lounge door which he has restored. We went to the Farmers' Arms at Stanningley at 9. Joined by Lynn, Dave, Sue and Peter. On to Karen and Steve's, where we were joined by Jill, Tim, Phil and Denise. We all drank punch, which is fatal. Susie looked chic in a boiler suit with her hair swept up. Lynn was fat and frilly. John had a roaring time. Ally went to rest in a darkened room at 1am. Blame the punch. To bed there at about 2 or 3. I arranged to see Di for a drink next Thursday.

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