Sunday November 21, 1982

 Last Sunday after Trinity

Up at 11:30. John and Sheila left to see friends for lunch at a distant hotel. We were invited to join them but dropped out when Sheila offered us the use of her car for the day. Ally drove to Puerto Del Carmen down a dusty cactus-lined road covered in picon [?] She didn't drive into the town but parked outside to avoid the law. We are not insured on Sheila's car, and Ally hasn't brought her driving licence. On the beach there for a couple of

hours. Hambugers and beer at a beach-side cafe, and then returned to the villa at 5 for a siesta. John and Sheila are back. Lunch was £12 and not spectacular. The dogs lick round us as though we've been away for six months. Drank tea on the terrace. They ar not great boozers. Siesta until 7:30. We lay whispering in bed. Dined at Caspar's (down near the harbour). The proprietress is a German baroness who looks like the girl in Abba, Frieda. Excellent dinner. We dined upstairs. The ferns however, were plastic. Pleasant chatter ranging from abysmal TV to the genius of Peter Sellers, and the adolescent-style behaviour of the adult Spanish. It's John's opinion that in a business conference with a Spaniard once they start playing with their genitals it's a sign that you (the Englishman) is heading for a victory in the negotiations. On to the Waikiki cocktail bar. Sheila insists the place is a homosexual haunt. Pina Coladas. Then the Beach Club disco. J & S left us at 3am. We had a few more drinks and walked back at 5am. Exhausted.

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Saturday November 20, 1982

 Sheila drove us to Puerto De Carmen this morning so that Ally can look at sun glasses. They are all far too expensive and in the end she borrowed a pair belonging to Valerie (my cousin).  They took us to the north of the island for lunch, and I'm almost asleep. We lunched on a mountain top. We all had prawns in garlic - delicious. Afterwards we must all have smelled very anti-social. I settled the bill - 2,800 pesetas. Then on to Mirador Del Rio, spectacular views, and the caves of Jameos del agua, a very relaxing spot.  Home tonight quite buggered. We sat watching films on John's video recorder. The first was an Australian creation 'Mad Max', set in the outback after a nuclear holocaust. Then Richard Burton in 'Villain'. Roast chicken around the grand table. Ally is stunned by John's likeness to Papa and she giggles and exclaims in wonderment every time he opens his mouth to speak. Sheila flits about like a bird, and is clearly very much in love with John.

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Friday November 19, 1982

 The weather is quite amazing. I don't think I will ever forget the feeling as I stepped off the plane yesterday. Up for eggs and bacon in the kitchen. Inspect the house. It's built around a central courtyard filled with exotic plants and trees. Our bedroom has a beamed ceiling and impressive headboard. The sitting room is large and cool with a fireplace worthy of Blenheim Palace for its size. The dining table is twenty feet long and a crystal chandelier hangs above. Sheila took us to Playa Blanca, a quiet spot to the south of the island. Her car took us through some amazing scenery. Very prehistoric and haunting. John says the island attracts lots of ESP types. Ally and I had sangria. Sheila drank only coffee because she's taking anti-biotics for a septic tooth. Joined by John and his Spanish business partner, Prudencio, at lunch where we ate fish in various shapes and forms. Ally and I left them afterwards and went to lay on the beach until 5. To the Victoria Inn for dinner. It's owned by an Englishman with a Norwegian wife. Pepper steaks, &c. Ally has the runs and the Scandinavian lady gave her a pill. Back at Macher John and I sat in the courtyard with a bottle of brandy. The ladies retired. We sat looking at the stars and attempted to solve the world's problems. John tells me he has a 'Rhodes index'  - similar to the IQ test - but based on personality, charisma and humour, &c. He believes in green men from outer space, ghosts, reincarnation, the whole damn lot. Bed, pissed, at 2am.

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Thursday November 18, 1982

 Funeral over we can now think about the holiday. Out of bed at 5. Frantic packing in the dark and rain. Well, it wasn't raining indoors, but you know what I mean. Dave B phoned and arrived at 7. He was in one of his serious moods, and sat drawing on a cigar contemplating the ceiling. To Manchester Airport arriving at 8:45. Ally had to pay an extra £10 to travel with a passport named as Dixon when her flight ticket is named as Rhodes. Gin and tonics. We flew at 10:15. It was like a flying Berni Inn. We drank like fish. The plane was half full of babies. Must tell Sue and Peter about this. Arrived at Arrecife Airport, Lanzarote, at 2:30 and met John and Sheila, lurking behind potted palms. He is tall, tanned and extremely distinguished. I suppose he's a streamlined version of dear Papa. Sheila is thin and well-groomed and just as affected as she was 10 years ago. Little changed. John, with an enormous 10 inch cigar, drove us to their vast villa surrounded by giant palms and set in the scorched countryside. Everything inside is on an enormous scale. Hugo (the labrador) is alive and well. Out for a pizza with John and Sheila and a couple called Julian and Hilary. He's a Peter O'Toole look-alike. Garlic. Raging thirst. Home and to bed at 10:30. Ally is brown before we start.

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Wednesday November 17, 1982

 Hideous wet day. Howling wind and rain. Furious activity. Ally up and out to the hairdresser at 9. I made the house look respectable, and dressed in my blackest clothes. Ally back at 10 looking beautiful. Frank & Bessie came at 11 and went went directly to Colne. To Uncle Tom's house for 12. Frank insisted on driving around for 15 minutes to shorten the stay in the home of the deceased. Inside, everyone stood grouped in the kitchen, some hideously cheerful and others near to collapse with grief. Met Ally's cousins Steven and David. Poor Hilda was lying in an open coffin in the sitting room, and we all had to file in for a prayer before leaving for Burnley Crematorium. I avoided looking at the corpse, but Ally caught a glimpse and burst into tears. This also upset Bessie who had been calm up to this point. Cremation over. I think I must be turning atheist. Ham sandwiches afterwards at Uncle Tom's. He is stunned and numbed by it all. Poor Auntie Hilda was only 47. Back to Bradford at 7. Ate at the Pizza House after having a drink at the Norfolk Gardens Hotel. Bed.

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Tuesday November 16, 1982

More rain. We'd be feeling quite jolly if it wasn't for poor Auntie Hilda (White). At the YP I told them I want tomorrow off to attend the funeral and Kathleen makes me take a half day, my last half day of the year, and presumably throws in another half day out of sympathy. This is from the woman who took months off last year because her father was unwell. Hardly fair. 

Worked until 4 and then went to buy £110 travellers cheques from Thomas Cook, and £15 in pesetas. I also collected a metro card for next month. Home to Ally and chicken sandwiches at 6.

Out to Guiseley and Sue and Pete's at 7. Sue looks lovely with a new short hairstyle. Mum and Dad arrived at 8. We argued, yet again _____________. John came in at 10. Dad drove us home at 12. Talk about Horton-in-Ribblesdale. Ally says she now sees from where Lynn derives her wild enthusiasm. 

To bed.

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Monday November 15, 1982

 New Moon

Frosty, but no snow. Lingered in bed until well after 7. Ally was up ironing before breakfast. Currant tea cakes and coffee. 

To the YP. The press goes too far this time. After the recent dreadful treatment of Princess Anne and Capt Mark Phillips, and the to-do about Koo Stark the Mirror and the Sun now claim that the Princess of Wales is suffering from anorexa nervosa, the slimmers disease. The princess is painfully thin and looking gaunt, but I suspect it's as a result of the endless columns of drivel filling our newspapers on a daily basis. Buckingham Palace really should do something about the Press. The cheap nasties are making life Hell for some members of the Royal Family. Photos of Princess Anne's children in the papers. Peter (Phillips) is 5 today - both are blond and bonnie. 

Home at 5:45. Chicken stew and dumplings. Bessie phoned at 8:30. Her sister, Hilda White, died at 9:30 last night. Ally had a little weep. Afterwards we sat with a coffee. The funeral takes place on Wednesday. A cremation at Burnley. Ally has never been to a funeral and quakes at the prospect. I will attempt to take the day off. How will I collect my travellers cheques in Leeds when I'm going to a funeral?

Missed Panorama's profile of Yuri Andropov. He looks like a right pillock. Switched over to the dreadfully dated film 'Carwash' from '76. Claptrap. Ally is still ironing three days later.

Mum phoned. They have bought a guest house in Horton-in-Ribblesdale. I am shocked and disappointed, but then realise it's selfish of me to want then to take on a pub. They must find something to do which makes them happy and contented. They seem to be thrilled by the place which is, quaintly, called Waltergarth.

Phoned Susie and arranged to go tomorrow night for a haircut. Will see Mum and Dad at West End Terrace.

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Sunday November 14, 1982

 23rd Sunday after Trinity - Remembrance Sunday - Birthday of the Prince of Wales

We were awake at 10 and lay debating whether or not to partake in another horizontal breakfast. I'm not a fan of eating in bed. The crumbs get everywhere, and I always splash tea, hot tea at that, onto my vulnerable, naked form. I made my usual morning visit to the bathroom and squealed with astonishment at the view I had of our modest garden. It was clothed in a blanket of snow. The first snow of this winter. Ally full of glee. She loves this hideous weather.

Watched the Cenotaph ceremonies on the BBC. Prince Andrew placed a wreath for the first time. For once Michael Foot wasn't dressed like an Irish navvy, which was disappointing. His donkey jacket brightened the remembrance service last year.

At 11:20 Uncle John phoned from Lanzarote asking us to take a consignment of packed bacon, good English bacon. It's the least we can do. It was a bad line. He and Sheila are meeting us at the airport at 2:30 on Thursday. Ally spent all afternoon ironing and packing. I stuffed a chicken and spiked it on the spit. Peeled veg and mixed  Yorkshire pudding. Watched half of 'Moby Dick' and two thirds of a Sean Connery and Gina Lollobrigida epic. We dined on succulent bird at 5. Collapsed afterwards. 'Nicholas Nickleby' on Channel 4. Excellent.

Saw images of the dead Brezhnev on the news followed by the second part of the Royal Variety Performance. Felt for the poor Queen Mother having to endure it. 

Bessie phoned and was miserable. Down in the dumps. (Her sister dying). Baby Matthew is to be christened on December 28, and big Tony Ellis is to be a godfather.

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Saturday November 13, 1982

 Crumpets in bed for breakfast at 10:30. A morning of pleasure, passion and love. Ally had to get up at 11:45 to get a bus to her sun-ray session at Duckworth Lane. I stood at the window pulling hideous faces as she stood at the bus stop over the road.

At 1:15 I got a bus and met Ally at Sunwin House. We went to buy jeans. Mine were £8.99 and Ally's £4.99. Womens clothes are always much cheaper than mens. Got a pullover from Marks and Spencers but it proved to be too small. I thought a 38ins chest would be adequate. To the market too. Home for 3:30.

John joined us for the afternoon. We expected the lads from Stockport - but no sign of them. We ate jacket potatoes (again) with melted cheese and garlic and sat around the fire taping music. John would have liked to go out for a few drinks but Ally didn't want to go. John, fortunate enough to be in possession of a £5 note offered to fritter it away on us. Instead I gave him several large whiskies and switched on the telly to watch a Sophia Loren film. What more can a healthy young man ask for? John left at 11:45 and we took to our bed.

Mum and Dad have paid a further visit to Jack Showers at Appletreewick.

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Friday November 12, 1982

 I was up at 6:20 washing up the dishes from last night and preparing breakfast. To Leeds with Jacq at 8. Derek Sate has bought an apartment in Tenerife.

News: I object to our newspapers filling page after page with obituaries of Brezhnev. It's unfair. If Margaret Thatcher died today would you suppose  that she'd be on page one of Pravda tomorrow? The evil of communism is that the powers keep the poor ignorant populace in the dark. The Russian public are the only people on earth I suspect not to have heard of Lady Diana. The new Russian leader is Yuri Andropov, of the KGB.

Ally was in bed for 9. I watched TV until I fell asleep.

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