Monday December 6, 1982

 Up late. Not enthusiastic. Miserable journey to the YP. My 72 (bus) didn't materialize. Found Margo looking peeved. Carol is off with a cold and Sarah is upstairs in personnel being brainwashed. Kathleen is of course Christmas shopping.

Busy day. From the diary pages of the tabloids I see that no royals turned out for the wedding at the weekend of Georgina Butter, kinswoman of Prince Philip, and cousin of Sacha Abercorn and Natalia Westminster. The Daily Express reveals that Lady Romsey has given birth to a daughter. I didn't know that the lady was pregnant. I must be losing my touch.

Phoned Auntie Mabel. We are going on Tuesday. Phoned Mum. Dad pranged the Toyota in the ice this morning, an accident which has signed the car's death warrant. He wasn't hurt. 

This evening Bessie was on the phone - the christening saga again. She is getting in a state about it. Phoned Susie and wished her all the best for the op tomorrow. Spoke to Mum too. Pine Tops is upside down and she's seriously thinking about phoning the Samaritans. She's going through all her possessions and becoming nostalgic.  We are going on Wednesday to say farewell to the old place. Lynn had a dizzy turn on Saturday night. Dad is doing too much, &c. Life here in Bradford is so tranquil in comparison. Dave L phoned and I told him about John's flat warming party. He is a fool.

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Sunday December 5, 1982

 2nd Sunday in Advent

Brothers: John & Lawrence

Slept until noon. Our Lanzarote photos arrived yesterday and we took them to Guiseley. Mum commented that Uncle John looks older than Dad. Wrong. 

I laid the floor covering here in the kitchen. I almost called it lino, but that would be wrong. There was a 3-D film on the BBC but we don't have the specs to view it and so the picture was blurred. We had lamb again. 

Look at Harold Nicolson's diary. Such a mixed up little man. I must read Nigel Nicolson's book about the marriage of Harold N and Vita Sackville-West.

We went to bed at 9:30 to avoid Esther Rantzen.

Saturday December 4, 1982

 Crumpets in bed with lashings of tea. To town afterwards to pay our carpet installment, and to buy a few Christmas presents. Got John and Sheila an Aynsley vase. Other odds and ends. Back home at 2:30 to find a van outside and Papa and John in the house. John had slipped his hand into the letter box and unlocked the door. We really must make sure we lock up properly. 

John drove us to Guiseley, almost piling the car up on route. He can be a very worrying driver. Move furniture from Pine Tops to Victoria Road, where John has found a large flat. Dave B was sulking because his removal date has been put back a week. He was positively furious. 

John drove me to Horsforth to collect his velvet curtains. He told me that Lynne Mather has become engaged to her boss, who has two homes here and one in New Zealand. Good for her. Chris Ratcliffe is going out with Judith Lea, and Christine Braithwaite is back in Yorkshire. 

Had a Chinese take-away with Mum and Dad. Frances is an angel but screams the place down at the first mention of bed. Lynn's health visitor says there's something wrong with the child because she hasn't walked yet.

John, itching for a drink, took us to the White Cross, the Woolpack and the Dog and Gun. Home later for drinks and a Lon Chaney film. John offered us the use of his car for Yuletide. We couldn't possibly accept. Janette is coming to Yorkshire for the festivities. That will certainly put the cat amongst the pigeons. He hinted also that Dad is going to give us the Toyota. Ally wouldn't take it.

-=-

Friday December 3, 1982

Fresh bread for breakfast and then out into the cold.  YP. Nothing thrilling.

News: Labour won another by-election. Well, they didn't win it, they held it. 

Sarah is back. The decorating must have reached a happy conclusion. I did nothing this afternoon and skulked around the office like a rat.

Tonight Ally sat and wrote me a wonderful letter addressed to Santa Claus setting out her demands. I roared with laughter. She wants an Afghan (a dog of course, and not one of the sweaty rebellious humans). She'd call him Clarence.

Glynnie phoned to talk about Tenerife. He sounds to have had an excellent time on the bottle. He met up with a pack of landlords from Bristol, or somewhere.

To bed very early.

-=-

Thursday December 2, 1982

 Cold, frosty morn. Have I mentioned Auntie Mabel? She phoned the other day and invited us to lunch on Dec 12. It is the day after Lazenby's (party) and so today I phoned her to cancel. We'll go some other time, obviously before Christmas.

Sarah still off. Must be having trouble with her wallpaper paste. YP abysmal. Kathleen cannot grasp why we want a day off in lieu for Christmas day. She says Christmas day falls on a Saturday, and we do not ususally work on a Saturday, so why are we entitled to a day in lieu? Silly cow. 1983 is going to have to be bye bye YP. I'm going to become a rock star, a leading author, or just a simple sex symbol. Ally's a little sex symbol already.

Out at lunchtime and purchased Molly Keane'sbook for Ally, which I stumbled upon quite accidentally in Austick's. Put £3 in our building society account. I'm hoping to buy a derelict Georgian vicarage with a minimum of 20 rooms. Club Street is all very well but one must expand.

Tony Benn has been shouting his mouth off about the Royal Family. He's unhappy with the Regency Act and says that should Prince William be jetitsoned onto the throne before he is 18 by the premature deaths of the Queen and Prince of Wales, then he will be quite unfit to reign, and that a Labour government would have no dealings with Prince Andrew as regent.

Ally had fish and chips waiting when I arrived home. Bliss.

-=-

Wednesday December 1, 1982

Charlie Cairoli.

Ally better but not 100 per cent. Because of this christening business we may have to hire a car. The thought of public transport all the way to Winchester just isn't our style. Car hire people are such robbing bastards though. To the YP with a red spot on the end of my nose reminiscent of the late Charlie Cairoli. 

YP poor. Sarah still off. She must be having trouble with her plumb line. The Queen Mother is back in circulation after her op. We'd be a dull nation without her. Spoke to mother. She says Pine Tops looks like 'Steptoe's yard' and is upside down. John's things are everywhere too, and they are living out of packing cases. Very sad. Twelve years in one spot is a long time for Mum and Dad.

Home cold. Eat like a wolf. We are both sick of the drudgery of work. What is the point of it all? Working for the money to keep a house which we rarely see because we are always working. It's an odd sort of world.

Coronation Street: Stan Ogden cannot go on much longer.

At the earliest opportunity we go up to bed and read. Harold Nicolson at war. Lights out by 12.

-=-

Tuesday November 30, 1982

 St Andrew's Day

Brighter, but bitterly cold. Ally is feeling weak ____________. She wrapped me up in a scarf and packed me off to the YP. The days are gone when I could often be seen walking around in shirt sleeves well into January.

Diana: unhappy

Sarah is off. 'Pneumogettingthekitchendecorateditis'. We all do it though.

(Nigel) Dempster says (for the first time, I think) that the marriage of the Prince and Princess of Wales is unhappy. She (Diana) doesn't share Charles's love of the great outdoors, and Nigel insists that 'sources close to the Royal Family' worry about the amount of leisure time they spend apart. We'll have twenty years of divorce rumours now. Poor souls, they'll never be left in peace.

News: The oldest peer Lord Rathcavan has died aged 99. The next in line for 'oldest peer' is Lord Citrine, who led the TUC at the time of the General Strike. Next after him is Fenner Brockway, the old fool. Vote Labour, Live Longer. Perhaps the next Labour party political broadcast could show Michael Foot surrounded by lefty centenarians. It would work wonders.

Still no reply from Guiseley. Are they still at Ruby's? Seems odd.

Bessie phoned us by mistake thinking she was ringing Graham. They are going to fix the time of Matthew's christening around our travelling arrangements. Gill phoned too. Matthew is over 9lbs. She thought Lanzarote was nothing more than a volcano. 

Went up to bed at 9:30. (I got in the bath and Ally got into bed).

-=-