Friday December 31, 1982

 YP until after 2.The New Years Honours list published. Nothing spectacular. The lower ones all seem to be water authority chairmen or old ladies who have worked in a Glamorgan canteen since 1914. I wouldn't touch an honour with a barge pole, except for the Garter.

Ally came running down the path after me and bundled me into a car with Mr Taylor and Patricia from the AHA. We went to a fuddle at Chestnut House. Other peoples offices are strange places.

Home at 5 sozzled. Fish and chips. Frantic arranging. Sue and Pete were first in at 8 followed by Patricia and Marcus, Dave L (looking like the 'principal boy' from 'Dick Whittington' in tight trousers and very long suede boots). MM and Marita. Poor Marita is bandaged and yet looks splendid in what looks like an Emanuel gown. To the Coach House. Joined there by Karen, Steve, Jill, Tim, Jacq, Lynne (Jacq's friend), David & Jean Watts, &c. I'll hand it to the Coach House, it was an excellent atmosphere. Balloons, party hats, loud music. We were all thrown into a state of festive euphoria. I had a secret ballot among the revellers which resulted in our return to Ash Tree Cottage on foot at 11:30. The streets were full of drunken people hurrying home to 'see in' the New Year. Cars were driving past us horns a tooting. I supplied everyone with a glass of something gripping and we took up our positions. At a few minutes to 12 we locked MM outside (one has to be tall and dark to fill this role) and we heard the chimes of Big Ben down the air waves courtesy of Radio One. 'Auld Langs Ayne'. 

We formed a conga line and danced out of the house, down the street, and in to Mary's, and then further down the street and back to ours having collected some neighbours, including Mary, into the chain on the way. One of Mary's friends, Rose, a comely Mrs Mills type, seated herself at our piano and banged out old tunes for over an hour. We stood around singing like the Vienna Boys' Choir. Mary attempted a Charleston and fell over and required assistance back to her place. Food magic. Music magic.

Everything went off remarkably well. It was one of our better parties. So good having MM and Marita with us. She always says that to see a Rhodes on New Years Eve brings good fortune in the coming year. New comers to our house express admiration for our interior design ability. I don't they say this just to be nice and for something to say. It happens far too often.

This was our first New Year party at Bradford. MM says that when George Orwell wrote '1984' he hadn't taken Margaret Thatcher into account. I couldn't agree more. We both agree that Mrs T will win the next general election when it comes.

Di and Paul didn't come. Paul has had a fracas with Tim. __________. Sue was all in black and thank God is back to her old self. Her face has given up that sickly look which I found terrifying.

Dave L had his usual dance with Steve and then slipped into a coma on the settee. He later found his way up to bed complaining he was feeling sick. All went home except Dave L, Karen and Steve. The Sandersons slept in a sleeping bag downstairs.

Ally and I went up to bed at 5am on January 1, 1983, feeling happy and moderately sober. God give us 70 more New Years.

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Thursday December 30, 1982

 Full Moon

Nothing really. YP dismal. Michael Brown was fretting about the New Years Honours list this afternoon. Apparently none of the recipients this year could be found in our files. I could not be bothered looking at the list, embargoed as yet.

Ally and I went to Morrison's in the Lada. I felt lousy all day. Headache. Thick phlegm. Bought the usual party things. My aches and pains didn't help my temper, but the peasants jostling for fish fingers and toilet rolls reaffirmed my belief in the sanctity of mankind and I emerged from the supermarket beaming , and humming a Beethoven sonata. Bumped into Catherine and David Alderson.

Made smoked mackerel pâté, profiteroles, &c. Watched Top of the Pops. To bed late. Exhausted.

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Wednesday December 29, 1982

Uncle Albert.

 On this day I always think of my Uncle Albert Wilson (Nov 1895-Dec 1969).

To the YP. Felt ill. Dry throat and sniffles. We are all looking 'off it'. Typical.  I did obituaries. Lord Sherborne died on Christmas Day and is succeeded by his 85 year-old kinsman who lives in Alresford.

Tonight Ally stood ironing by the light of the Christmas tree. I poured a few gins with bobbing ice cubes, and floating citrus fruits. Yes, lemon. Phoned people to make sure they've remembered our party. Spoke to Dave L and MM who says Marita fell over outside the Black Bull on the Monday before Christmas and broke a bone in her foot. The poor girl crawled for 50 yards down Horsforth Town Street and nobody stopped to assist. Talk about the Good Samaritan. Phoned Jackie Myers, Jacq Sate and Denise Akroyd, but had no response from this trio. Unfortunate. Is Jackie M in Torremolinos with Barry?

Bed after a whisky.

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Tuesday December 28, 1982

 Bank Holiday in UK & Republic of Ireland

Up with the larks. Ally and I spent the morning cutting sandwiches, making sausages on sticks, &c. James, one of the godfathers arrived, and an order came through to the kitchen to make sandwiches for him. Am I am a servant, or what? 

The Cricketers.

Matthew Frank Graham Dixon was baptised at Kingsworthy Church by his maternal grandfather at 3pm. Baby bawled throughout which was fun. Tea and sandwiches back at Chillandham Cross afterwards. We did have sparkling wine to toast the infant. Ally and I had a lift back to the house with Dr Gaffikin, the GP who 'looked after her' several years ago. He's a little man in a double breatsed waistcoat._________. 

Afterwards we decamped to the Cricketer's Arms at Easton just for a few, and left at 8:30. A good journey. Home to Bradford at 12. Bessie will miss us. I think we have helped this Christmas.

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Monday December 27, 1982

 Bank Holiday in the UK & Republic of Ireland

Vast breakfast was followed by 'Ben Hur' and a swift one at the Plough. Tony, who is a godfather tomorrow, is now at York University, and now realises that the north of England isn't all mill chimneys and scenes reminiscent of Coronation Street.

At dinner tonight we had roast lamb and I caused a sensation by making Yorkshire puddings. Why do folk think they can only be eaten with beef?

James Bond afterwards. I cannot cope with Bond and went and did the washing up. The Rev and Mrs Matthew Lynn called in. Ally and Bessie prepared a table for the baptism tomorrow. Forty eight million sandwiches to cut tomorrow.

Andrew and I watched 'Convoy'. It is one of those dreadful films which would be funny if it wasn't trying to convey some sort of message.

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Sunday December 26, 1982

Cart & Horses.

 1st Sunday after Christmas

Food in Edwardian proportions yet again. Massive fried breakfast. Frank is very good with the baby, and seems to be one of the few people capable of calming him. He looked at our Lanzarote photos and talked about his holiday at the end of January. He fancies Madeira.

Spent only half an hour at the Cart and Horses where numerous members of the Lynn family were assembled. Trevor Lynn, Gill's brother, and Teri Weymes announced their engagement yesterday. Back at Chillandham Cross at 3 Frank and Bessie went out for a stroll and I raided the drinks and poured us all an enormous one. Watched Peter Sellers in 'Two Way Stretch'.

Enormous dinner. Roast beef, Yorkshire pudding. Ally wore one of my old shirts, and her mother's ruby necklace. It is rumoured to have cost £5,000. Afterwards we were unable to move. Graham slept on the floor behind the settee. Coincidentally we watched an Agatha Christie play on the telly about a body behind a settee, starring Penelope Keith. Eerie. The only difference was that our body was snoring very loudly, and occasionally breaking wind.

-=-

Saturday December 25, 1982

 Christmas Day

My first Christmas Day away from my parents. Up at 9:30 drinking tea. I inspected the Christmas tree. Not good. It has no lights since they fused several nights ago. A very disappointing specimen. Presents and wrapping paper everywhere, like 'Sale of the Century' (a dreadfully low TV programme designed for the old and greedy). Phoned Mum.

Chilland Barn.

To Chilland Barn for drinks with Freddie and Avril Hargreaves. I'm jealous of the house. Bessie became merry on the wine. At 1:30 we returned for lunch which Ally and I helped to organise. Bessie does get herself in a fluster. The full works. Poor baby Matthew wailed throughout and consequently Gill was absent for most of the meal. Our plates were piled high. It is Graham's theory that you are not greedy if you manage to eat everything, and only become so when when food is left on the plate. We had the pudding in the sitting room after The Queen, who talked about Frobisher and Drake and the Falklands and, for the first time in many years, from Windsor Castle. We all dropped off to sleep beneath our paper hats and our snores drowned out the TV which was awful anyway. Graham and Gill went to the Rectory for 5. We watched Agatha Christie's 'Death on the Nile'. Felt sproggy, no doubt caused by the burning logs. Bed by 1am.

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Friday December 24, 1982

 The eve of Christmas. To the YP for the age-old tradition of present swapping and merriment. We always sit behind the filing cabinets being hideously cheerful with each other. Kathleen especially is like Mother Teresa of Calcutta, and other wrinkled saintly persons. I gave Mrs Slocombe the soaps that she had given to Sarah. It all went off splendidly. I'm hoping for an Oscar. The Asti Spumante saw us through to 12:30 when we drifted away.

Ally came to collect me in the little yellow Lada and we left immediately for Winchester. I clutched a bottle of Dry Martini all the way, sipping leisurely. Ally was bright as a bobbin (or is it a new pin?), and nearing the journey's end she serenaded me with carols. At Chillandham Cross for 6:30. Saw Matthew for the first time. He is such a tiny person. Everyone says he looks like Frank, but all babies look like Frank. Little, bald and sleepy.

Ally was shagged out and didn't want to go out which upset Graham. We sat with Bessie and Frank and retired at 12.

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Thursday December 23, 1982

 Festive. Cold. Went to Denton's at lunch and wrote a cheque for £36. for the amethyst and gold ring I've had my eye on for Ally for weeks. It was a relief to see it was still on the shelf. Bought Asti Spumante for the office fuddle tomorrow, if that's what it is. I often think it's more like a funeral.

Met Ally at Rackham's at 6:30 and we spent two hours walking around the shops. They stayed open until 9 tonight for the maniacal, hysterical shoppers. Bought napkins for Bessie and a dressing gown for Frank, &c. Home. Pork pies by the fire. Mario Lanza warbling in the background. Ally gave me a typewriter! I never guessed. She loves the amethyst ring. A perfect fit. Duran Duran's LP. Exhausted. 

Noel! Our second married one.

-=-

Wednesday December 22, 1982

 Shortest Day

I'm not feeling 100 per cent. 

Hasn't 1982 been a momentous year? Prince William, Koo Stark, the Falklands War, Princess Grace of Monaco, the loss of Arthur Askey, tumbling inflation, 76,000,000 unemployed. I had no dental treatment all year.

To Guiseley at 7:30 with a sack of presents. Mum and Dad have a new car, a Renault 5, which is four years old, and formerly the motor of Mr Webster, a YP printer. John made a flying visit and beat a retreat, after looking at his presents, to see Chris and Pete. Carol J saw John last night in the White Hart at Pool with an unidentified lady, clearly the mental nurse Janet. (She's a nurse who looks after mental patients at High Royds Hospital, not mental herself of course). He is a lad, my brother.

Swapped gifts with the Nasons and devoured pies and sandwiches. We kissed goodbye until after the festivities. On to Thorpefields where Lynn and Dave were listening to Christmas carols around the plastic tree. I would never have thought it of them. The tree that is. Swapped gifts here too and left at 12. Shattered. Despite all the criticism I think that the Pantry (as I call the Lada) goes very well.

Tuesday December 21, 1982

 Thrilling luncheon with Sarah, Margo and Carol J at Da Mario's (as usual). Devoured the usual panzerotti and gallon of wine. The dark, Latin waiter took a fancy to Margo and she got extra cream on her Black Forest gateau as a result. It was a sombre affair quite in keeping with tradition. I only hope I'll be gone from the library by this time next year, though I cannot see how.

I am going to have to bring all my very great acting powers to the fore on Friday at the annual exchange of Christmas gifts twixt the library staff. I am giving Mrs Slocombe the Bronnley soaps which she herself gave to Sarah on Sarah's birthday only a month ago. We believe that Marilyn Wheeler gave the soaps to Mrs Slocombe, who then passed them on to Sarah, who then gave them to me to give back to Mrs S! So wonderfully wicked and fun.

The Lada estate is here. We went over to Pudsey at 8 with our cards. Jill and Tim came and Di and Paul brought a video recorder and we watched our wedding tape. Home at 12 after two glasses of cucumber wine.

-=-

Monday December 20, 1982

 Yes folks, it's Christmas time and once again Michael Rhodes is going down with pneumonia. It's the same every year. Santa brings presents for everyone else but me. Oh no, not me. I get the snots.

We are laying our hands on a motor car as from tomorrow for the two weeks until the end of the festivities. A Lada which is costing us £103. J. Paul Getty all over again. It will please Precious, who secretly despises being car-less, and we can play at Santa Claus without the use of public transport.

-=-

Sunday December 19, 1982

 4th Sunday in Advent

A day at John's flat. Struggling with cold. Joined by Mum and Dad.  Drinking, and eating pork pies until 6. Mum doesn't know that Janette is coming down for Christmas and for an indefinite period afterwards. This news may not be well received. I will be glad to be out of it in Winchester. John drove us home at 7:30 and then went off to play squash with Chris Ratcliffe at Harehills. Ate at 10. Bed afterwards.

-=-

Saturday December 18, 1982

 I was awake at 8:30 listening to Dad pottering around. We emerged for breakfast. We regret last night's excesses, but I didn't feel too bad. Brewed coffee (we have a new coffee-maker from Bessie). I cannot write. Everything is so bitty.

Over to Guiseley at 10. To Thorpefields, Lynn and Dave's new home. A good, solid family-sized house which they'll be able to fill with babies. Spent the whole day travelling between Burley and Guiseley in a large van, loading and unloading. Ghastly. 

To Sue's afterwards, and then out at 8 to the Station (Hotel). Felt shattered. We consisted of: Ally, I, Dave L, John, Jill, Tim, Sue, Pete, Lynn, Dave B, & Chris and Peter came on in at 10:30. Mr & Mrs Brotherwood too. Tony in a trilby. To the flat afterwards. Not a large turn out, but fun. _______ came with her tiny, yet perfectly formed Duran Duran friend and thery proceeded to copulate on the settee. It was great viewing. Spent the evening avoiding toad-like people. John's neighbour, a nurse from the asylum, by the name of Janet, arrived and grabbed hold of John and held his attention all night. A very forward young lady. 

Dave L, Tim and I went across the road to a flat above the fish and chip shop to investigate reports of another lively party taking place, but found nothing but a very old woman tucked up in bed. Felt like Michael Fagan, the intruder who entered the Queen's bedroom.

Back at John's: Sue was in good spirits, and brought the house down. (Peter) Lazenby arrived late and stood cuddling Ally asking me to 'take care of her'. Jill informs us that my cousin's wife, Jennifer Myers, is expecting her third child next summer. Janet took John off to her flat to inspect her Beatles LPs, and the party drifted away into the ice and snow. Ally and I found a bed.

-=-

Friday December 17, 1982

 Go to the market. Very festive. Buy wrapping paper and some cards. Horribly wet day, utterly miserable.

Left the YP at 4 and stood for 45 minutes waiting for a bus, again. By the time I arrived home I was depressed. Very unfestive. Ally looking pale. She says she feels odd ___________.

Mum and Dad came at 7:30 from John's and we cheered up considerably over dinner. Scampi, profiteroles, &c. Dad messed around with the clock and managed to get it going again. Drink flowed. Mum drank liqueurs like water. Cointreau and Tia Maria. After midnight we gave them their Christmas presents and they were delighted. Mum sat fondling her Lanzarote tablecloth, and beaming. The scene reminiscent of Christmas day. Torn wrapping paper and broken Brazil nut shells everywhere. We finally retired to bed at 4am.

-=-

Thursday December 16, 1982

 Hail, the lot. The gales have calmed down but snow is now on the way. By evening it did come, and the skies were white and threatening.. It looks as if my green wellies are going to be put to use after all.

We have a Christmas card from the anonymous man at number 12, who signs himself 'Charles Eyden'. A grand sounding name, I think.  Poor man, he sees no one.

YP: No Kathleen or Sarah today. News: Michael Heseltine is increasing our rates next year. Ian MacDonald, the MOD official and spokesman, has been slated for his angling of the Falklands thing. I thought he was brilliant. He made our so-called broadcasters on TV news today look like pantomime dames. The BBC news has now stooped to employing an Irishman as political editor. I strain to understand what is going on, and occasionally grasp the word 'Thatcher' and the phrase 'back bench rebels'. Nine new life peers were announced today. Welsh solicitors, &c. The Earl of Crawford's daughter is engaged to the son of the librarian at Windsor - one for the diary.

Mother phoned this morning whilst on 'Christopher watch'. Dad was out with Susie shopping. They had a cheque yesterday for £31,000 for the sale of Pine Tops. It was hurriedly placed in the bank. They dined afterwards at the Damn Yankee.

Home to Ally. We had sandwiches. Bake afterwards. I made a batch of profiteroles and Ally some mince pies. The smell of food is driving me insane. Watched sweaty 'Tenko' again. It's a real fun-packed show, that.

Sir Robin Day, &c.

-=-

Wednesday December 15, 1982

 New Moon

90 MPH gale force winds throughout Yorkshire - a dreadful day. Ally had a second day off to put the finishing touches to her Christmas preparations. The house is looking excellent. Last week it resembled an Afghanistan bomb site. Poached eggs. 

YP: Sarah off. Worked through lunch listening to the wind howling outside. Mrs Slocombe coughing over her typewriter like at inmate of St Gemma's Hospice. Margo is rapidly becoming the office comedian. 'What is the number one record in Heaven?' she asked. My curiosity aroused. 'Wide Eyed and Legless', she answers, ' a duet by Marty Feldman and Arthur Askey'.

Home at 6. Ally looking like a rugby player in a striped shirt. We had dumplings in mince and a rice pudding. We have had some Christmas cards from my great-aunt Anne (Kirk) and Uncle Tom in Barrowford.

Ally sat watching 'Dallas'. I'm astonished that she finds it entertaining. Dave L phoned  and was abrupt. He wanted to come over last Thursday but we were out dining with the Wattses. He asked whether John's party is still on. I told him yes. He also enquired about ours at New Year. Will he bring his punk pals? We have a new carpet. To bed at 9:30.

-=-

Tuesday December 14, 1982

 Somewhat wintry. The usual sort of day. Worked through lunch and left at 4:30, but didn't get on a bloody bus until 5. Met Ally in the interchange and we got an 88 (bus) to Pudsey. To the home of Auntie Mabel, matriarch of the Wilson family. We dined on tuna salad, roast chicken, apple pie and cream. Because we are ruled by the buses our stay was short, and we swapped Christmas cards and looked at the photos of Lanzarote. The gas fire, belting out heat like a furnace, reminiscent of one of those steelworks before they all closed down.

We had a good dig at some of our relations, including her 'posh' niece A____ W. Auntie Mabel sat reading the Court Circular - out loud. We left at 9:15. Home at 10. 

Saw Peter Firth in 'The Flipside of Dominick Hide' - the sequal. Brilliant. Then to bed. A very cold night.

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