Wednesday January 11, 1984

 5 Club St, Lidget Green

Something is happening. (A large gynaecological redaction). I made a pot of tea and we debated whether we should ring the hospital. The sight of blood has made us uneasy. At about 6am Ally phoned the maternity unit for advice and they told her to go in. Heavily laden with luggage we went to the BRI. They put us in labour room 7 and we sat holding hands for two hours or more. Time stands still in hospital. I phoned Bessie and Mum with the news but by 10 I was beginning to regret it because Ally's contractions had ceased. Ally was good and calm and not in the least violent. At 11 they transferred us the the ante-natal ward, put out to grass, apparently abandoned. Dr Duck appeared and sent Ally for a scan, to which poor Ally went in a wheelchair, and I was sent home until visiting time at 4. Dad collected me in the rain at 12 and we joined Mum for some hideous fish and chips. We collected Ally at 5pm, by now slightly 'put out'. She had spent three hours in an overcrowded ambulance en route to the scan, and looked very pale. Home. Mum suggested a hot bath to 'get things going'. They left after a meal at 9:30 and we took baths. I was dead to the world and fell into a coma next to my large, pink,  and only true love.

-=-

Tuesday January 10, 1984

 5, Club Street, Lidget Green, Bradford

The snots continued unabated. My £1.95 medication is neither use nor ornament. Ally woke with a hunger and at 9 I went out and bought a hot, brown loaf and the Daily Telegraph. We had boiled eggs upstairs, Ally balancing her tray upon her vast protrusion. We took hours to dress and drift downstairs. The waiting coninues. A bit of a strain. We decided to go buy a baby bath, a chair, and bucket for the dirty nappies. Wrapped up like mountaineers we went to Mothercare and spent £25 on these provisions. All our purchases are blue. This in no way means we expect a boy. We just didn't want white. After an hour in the soggy town we staggered back to the car. Ally like an overweight pug as she panted her way up Darley Street. At 2 she went to her mothercraft class at Odsal. 

I concocted a fish pie and listened to records at full throttle. I cannot do this when Ally is in. Her aversion to noise is growing worse. We listen to everything at a whisper. Ally was back at 3:30 and we ate half an hour later. Phoned John. The holiday was fine but he didn't enthuse. The temperature in Majorca was in the 60s. I told him that David Watts wants a dormer plastering. John needs some good indoor jobs. Later Dave Watts phoned to say he's found two family Bibles, and can he bring them? Ally told him no, tonight, and says we'll let him know. Mum phoned. Her cold has gone. We watched 'Dallas' and retired to bed. Ally sat reading 'The Moonstone' and I lay dribbling from the nose. To sleep after 12. Come along son/daughter.

-=-

Monday January 9, 1984

 5 Club Street, Lidget Green, Bradford

My cold persists. Ally says baby will not come because he can hear me coughing, sneezing and sprogging. I got up early and went out into the frost to buy a newspaper and then made breakfast for Ally and climbed back into bed until 12. L. Gledhill phoned at 10 and spoke to Ally. He cannot understand why the baby hasn't arrived and asks whether we have our dates right. Ally responded 'yes', to which he replied 'Oh you can recall the night in question, can you?' Well, of course she can . (It was an afternoon actually). He says D.Tyne sees no impediment in our taking the Moorhouse, but we have to see the chief first. 

Rachel Ward.

We pulled up chairs closer to the fire. Ally buried beneath a Wilkie Collins book and I looked at the diaries of Harold Nicolson, but only half-heartedly. Watched the news. The Prince and Princess of Wales are in Liechtenstein skiing surrounded by 48 million photographers on the slopes. They will never be allowed any privacy. The heat from the fire put us both to sleep and we lay beneath our books until after 3. Auntie Hilda phoned to say she is thinking of us. 'The first one can be two weeks late, you know', she said. I winced. Looking ahead this week I see that we have a Friday the Thirteenth. Oh God. Will baby come then? We ate salad and I sat chewing like a rabbit. This cold will never go. A night in front of the TV. Watched Coronation Street. Most of the cast seem to have disappeared. We also watched another episode of The Thornbirds with Richard Chamberlain as a randy, unconvincing priest. Rachel Ward also stars. Miss Ward is Lord Dudley's niece. A bonnie lass. Watched a profile of John Wayne by Barry Norman. He was the epitome of the American man. Big, pushy, promiscuous and vulgar. They struck a Congressional Medal of Honour for him. He died the day Ally started working for Derek. To bed at 11. Ally sat reading The Moonstone, and I buried myseld beneath my quilt.

-=-

Charlotte & Graham Smith with Oscar.

Sunday January 8, 1984

 1st Sunday after Epiphany

5 Club Street, Lidget Green, Bradford

The cold continues. I mean my cold and not the weather. Ally brought me tea and toast to bed and I remained beneath the sheets until 1pm. Felt rotten. Like gallons of water in my head. Downstairs in my dressing gown I sat dribbling in an armchair. Watched a film starring Peter Ustinov and co-starring the ghastly Melina Mercouri, who is now attempting to steal our Elgin Marbles. 

Susan phoned to ask about Ally's progress. She says Peter cannot stop worrying about us. It isn't like Peter to become excited about a baby. Feel honoured. Charlotte Smith phoned quite out of the blue to ask 'today is the day, isn't it?' How peculiar, they haven't answered our letters or tried to contact us for a long time. Ally spoke to Graham S and she could hear Isobel in the background. Ally phoned Bessie who snatched up the phone after only one and a half rings. They dined with Peter Gaffikin last night and played silly party games. For one game they had a name pinned to their back and had to match up with a partner. Bessie was CLEMENTINE and had to match up with 'satsuma'. I think I would have looked for Winston. Is this an omen? Ally came away chuckling. We haven't told Bessie of any of our chosen names, of course. 

Ally has a touch of back ache. We sat later watching The Thornbirds. Ally has just finished the book of that name by Colleen McCullough which she started reading at the Linthorpe. Have you noticed how my brain slips from one thing to another like a bee in a rose garden? To bed at 10 to escape Esther Rantzen on the BBC. Felt slightly better.

-=-

Saturday January 7, 1984

 5, Club Street, Lidget Green, Bradford

Club Street.

After a sweaty night I woken up with a cold. Sneezing and spluttering everywhere. Ally washed a batch of nappies and I hung them out on the washing line to dry. It is a sight I thought I would never see. We have run out of food supplies and so we ventured out to Duckworth Lane at 12:30. Wet, windy and cold. I spent £1.95 on something to dry my galloping mucus. Back at home I fell asleep in an armchair watching John Wayne play Genghis Khan. Ally made a lasagne. I didn't enjoy it. It was like eating cardboard. My sense of taste and smell has died. Ally's emotions are all haywire. At the slightest excuse and with (illegible) encouragement she bursts into tears. It is a traumatic time for poor Piglet. I was still collapsed in the chair at 8pm and so I decided to go to bed. Ally needed no prompting either. Just as we retired Gill phoned from Coleford. It's so good to know that everyone is thinking of us. She says Matthew was in hysterics on Christmas Day. I took a pill and had a large glass of rum. According to Dr Duck tomorrow is the day.

Oh yes, Auntie Mabel phoned this morning (as I was hanging out the nappies) and she had a long chat with Ally. Uncle Jack (Paine) would have been 68 tomorrow. She says that babies are like apples and they only drop when they are ripe.

-=-

Friday January 6, 1984

 5, Club Street, Lidget Green, Bradford

Epiphany comes and goes without any signs of the baby. Ally is agitated. She isn't the type to wait placidly and now the due date has arrived she wants the whole business over with. Frayed tempers. People phone throughout the day to enquire about developments. Sarah phoned to say that Kathleen is in a flap about it. Lynn phoned too. She says the best way to bring the baby on, according to Dr Jacques, is to have furious sexual intercourse. No chance of that. Instead, Ally polished the brasses and heaved the vacuum cleaner around, to no avail. We ate liver and onions on trays in front of the fire. Bessie phoned to say they are at the Lyndhurst Park Hotel tonight and dining with the sickly Dr Gaffikin tomorrow. She leaves phone numbers where to contact her. Gaffikin knows too much. He's in the Rotary Club with Frank. Sat down to a quiet night at 8:30 when the door opened to David and Jean Watts, who want to see how the baby bump is developing. David looks extremely nautical with a 'full set'. They want Samuel too, but David fancies 'Ian'. Ugh. We don't reveal Clementine. That is to be a surprise. They stayed until 11 and we discussed genealogy, the NHS and yes, christian names. They went, and we watched the beginning of a film, so old - John Gielgud looked like a 17 year old. Bed. Read Harold Nicolson's diaries.

-=-

Thursday January 5, 1984

 5, Club Street, Lidget Green, Bradford

Ally is much better. No longer niggly and tiresome. No signs of impending motherhood. We were up early and out in the rain at 9:30 to Paternoster Lane where Ally saw Dr Duck. She came out in perfect health and has been told to wait patiently. The doc says Ally will not be allowed to wait longer than 13 days. It seems like eternity, but we know our child will come before January 21. At home I sat buried beneath my newspaper but the peace of the day was shattered by the telephone. It was Les Gledhill who asked to see me at the Red Lion at 2:30. Quiver, quiver. Is our destiny secured? I went out and cleaned the car after sweeping up the leaves that have clogged the pathway since autumn. In fact the garden looks horrible. It's like Greenham Common. Cheese and biscuits. My wife says I am a sloppy eater, but then she loves to criticise. 

We went to the Red Lion at 2:30. Felt most uneasy. The Willses kiss, cuddle, suck and chew and sit upon each other all for public display. I really think that Elaine thinks she's a latter day Brigitte Bardot or Pamela Stephenson. He (Chris) is like one of the dogs they possess and jumps at the snap of her fingers. L. Gledhill came and took us into a corner and told us that the Moorhouse Inn is ours. He only has D.T.N. Tyne to see and give the word, and we can have the place when our baby is about three weeks old if everything is ok. I find Les G such an easy man to get on with. He has treated me very well and I cannot complain about my Christmas break. However, he has to justify my name on the payroll and so we have to take a holiday from Sunday when hopefully Samuel/Clementine will be thinking about putting in an appearance. Ally is over the moon. Samuel Smith's have been very good to us and we can not have wished for better, fairer treatment. Chris and Elaine were lurking in the background and after L.Gledhill's departure they came to glean information. Chris says, somewhat cruelly, that Pirie at the Moorhouse was thumped, or 'done over' last week. Hardly the most tactful thing to say to Pirie's successor.  We left at 3:30 after seeing Jean and Enid - always pleasant. 

We sat at home with a drink looking at the Christmas tree (yes, it's still up) discussing our good fortune. Phoned Horton. Mum is full of cold and has been in bed since we left on Monday. She sounded awful. Phoned Glynnie. He and Lily leave for Acapulco (?) on Monday. He is calling in here after his two weeks in the sun. Ally spoke to Lily. Sue phoned for a bulletin. Her baby is now due on June 10. It's another 12 month pregnancy. Marita phoned to see if we fancy having a gathering before Dave L's return to South Elmsall on Sunday. Awkward. Pleasant chatter. I have so much in common with Marita. She never changes. Dave L is taking his mum to see them tonight. The Matthews residence is like Chatsworth. 'Horatio Hornblower' . Bath & bed at 9:30.

-=-

Wednesday January 4, 1984

 5, Club Street, Lidget Green, Bradford

Ally: grizzly bear.

Fine, yet frosty. Ally was in a tetchy mood all day and we put it down to nerves. She was unbearable this morning. It's like living with a female Neil Kinnock. Quite intolerable. We were awake at 5am and by 6 I was compiling a letter to Les Gledhill asking 'please could you give us the Moorhouse?'  By 8 the letter was posted. I ventured out in the snow at dawn like Capt Oates to find a newspaper. Cecil Parkinson's mistress has given birth to a daughter. The Rev Jesse Jackson dominates the news. He clearly copies the late Martin Luther King and is very theatrical. Breakfast was volatile and eggs were almost thrown. We went out and sat in the car where I demolished the inside mirror. More Shakespearian tragedy. We sat there with a large tube of glue (like so many young people today), and managed to secure the rear view mirror back in place. We went to town and came back two hours later with sanitary towels, nappies, feeding bottles and cotton wool balls. Ally wore a very large brown pullover and looked like a grizzly bear. We had some funny looks. If you want to go out and get noticed take a gigantic, pregnant woman with you. She slept in her bed from 3 until 6:30pm. I sat and finished Margaret Thatcher by Penny Junor. Recent biographies, or those of the living are seldom very good. Who was it that advised 'never read a book that is not a year old?' Was it Ralph Waldo Emerson? Fish for dinner. Ally only ate it because I enjoy it. Feet up afterwards. The baby kicked away viciously, and Ally sat with her orange juice splashing around in the glass. We have, so it seems, created a rugby prop forward. 'Coronation Street' - Elsie Tanner has left and gone to live in Portugal, saying goodbye to the cobbles forever. Saw the wonderful (Alan) Whicker. I could watch him until the cows come home. This week he was on the QE2. Ally would hate it - the social climbers abound. Bed by 11. Ally is calmer and all is forgiven. She is sitting in bed with a smile upon her face.

-=-

Tuesday January 3, 1984

 New Moon

Waltergarth, Station Road, Horton-in-Ribblesdale

Waltergarth.

Katie Davina's first birthday. We woke up to snow at Horton and decided to leave for home very quickly and before we could be 'snowed in'. Mum missed breakfast and stayed in her bed complaining of a acheing back and congested chest. Dad was singing along to the Jimmy Young Show on the radio. Ally and I had boiled eggs. Very 'eggy' eggs, according to my wife. We packed up and left at about 12 and phoned Mum on our arrival home. They were very relieved that we had returned safely to Bradford. 

At 2pm Ally went to her her motherclass class at Odsal. She watched a demonstration by a midwife who bathed a doll in the bath, a bath without water in it. Her friend who was expecting a breech birth gave birth to a daughter on the Tuesday after Christmas. She came home after 4 in falling snow again. ________. I made some chips and whilst wrapping the potato peelings in an old copy of the Daily Telegraph I spotted the list of New Years Honours. The awful Alastair Burnet, a mere newscaster, has been knighted, lowering the tone. Lady Susan Hussey is made a DCVO. It is reported that the Queen has been angered by the usual flocking to Sandringham by the gentlemen of the press and she has asked for a withdrawal.___________.

A dark, frosty and white night. To think that John will be in his shirt sleeves in a Spanish discotheque. He says he wants to go to Lanzarote in the autumn to see John & Sheila, and that Sue and Pete are thinking of joining them. Ally says we should arrange someting for November. No mail at home. No communication from the brewery. We will write about the Moorhouse tomorrow. We cannot go hanging around like this and once the baby is here we need to get the ball rolling. I will be happier after hearing from Les Gledhill again. Bessie phoned - frost in Hampshire. Ally changed into her pink gown and slumped in a chair to watch 'Dallas'. We watched the news headlines at nine and then went to bed with Margaret Thatcher. The US presidential campaign is under way already. Jesse Jackson is a contender for the presidency and is currently strutting around the Middle East as if he owns the place.

Monday January 2, 1984

 Bank Holiday in UK & Rep. of Ireland

Waltergarth, Station Road, Horton-in-Ribblesdale

Dad at Horton.

Cold, wet and windy. Dad is 50, Mum is 49. Mum loves her birthday more than anyone I know and loves to include all the excitable children. We were up early to bid farewell to the Bakers after the handing over of presents and cards. We bought Dad a pullover, but so too did Lynn and Sue. Sue's, as usual, was knitted for a dwarf and didn't fit. She frequently purchases miniature items of clothing for very large people. Little Katie, who makes noises like a lion, opened her presents too. We have given Mum the tea pot and sugar basin featuring Hardraw Falls. Dad says we will go visit the falls with baby when we next come to Horton. 

Lynn and Dave left at 11 and Hilda and Tony walked in at 12:30 and we spent the afternoon eating (again) and drinking (again). Hayley is to be christened on January 29 and the vicar has specified to Karen that she can only have six people in church. Disgusting. Jesus Christ would not approve. We are told that Hayley would have been Ryan, if a boy. Hilda performed the old wives test of holding a dangling needle over Ally's bump. Supposedly, the suspended needle swings back and forth if a boy and if it goes round in circles then it's a girl. The needle today went back and forth, and so our child is a boy. Hilda says she's never been wrong. Dad, in excellent exuberant spirits, showed his contempt for this ritual by carrying out the experiment on all of us. I am expecting a boy, and Hilda is childless. Hers didn't swing either way. We sat until 10 when H and T returned to Pudsey. Tony is very wary of the stringent drink driving law enforcement. I sat looking at the Waltergarth deeds, fascinating paperwork  dating back to the last century. The strong wind blew the smoke back down the chimney and we sat with handkerchiefs over our faces like surgical masks. Much laughter. Bed at 12:30.

-=-

Sunday January 1, 1984

 (New volume)

1st Sunday after Christmas ... New Year's Day

Waltergarth, Station Road, Horton-in-Ribblesdale

New Year's Day saw the Rhodes clan gathered at Waltergarth in the township of Horton-in-Ribblesdale, in the County of North Yorkshire. The first New Year's Day for many years, for me, spent without a crashing head since the distant days of my innocent childhood. Yet, sadly however I am succumbing to a chill. I sneezed throughout and looked blotchy and feverish. Poor mother too is 'chesty' and wrapped in a woollen cardigan by the fireside. 

We had a staggered breakfast again. Just toast and tea and as soon it was decently possible we went out leaving the children with granny and grandad and walked to the Crown for the first shot of alcohol in 1984. I bought a round costing £6.50, but forgot Janette's Creme de Menthe. David, poor boy, had to borrow 50p to buy us all a drink . I am sure the Bakers are destitute since joining the Guiseley elite on Thorpe Lane. I found the draught Guinness most pleasurable. Janette is nervous about tomorrow's flight (they go to Majorca for a week with the Ettenfields) and I attempted to reassure her. 

Waltergarth.

Mum cooked a 20lb turkey for lunch this afternoon and once again it was a 'running buffet'. We all gathered around the log fire (could this be responsible for my dry throat and flowing mucus?). South Pacific nauseates on the TV. John and Janette went off with the Nasons at 4 and we packed the Baker girls off to bed after which all conversations were held in a whisper, &c. The TV droned on in the background. Lynn revealed all about childbirth ___________. We sat up until 12 and sang 'Happy Birthday' to Mum and Dad, but went to bed straight afterwards. Father is now 50 years old.

-=-

Saturday December 31, 1983

 Waltergarth, Station Rd, Horton-in-Ribblesdale

Bitterly cold. Breakfast was in relays because we all got out of bed at different times. Ally and I were last up. Just toast. Mum refuses to cook a 'full English' at the festive season. The cold wind and rain didn't prevent us wrapping up and heading down the lane leaving Mum wrestling with a leg of pork . Ally and Dad looked like sherpas. Christopher came too. We looked at the church and inspected the tomb stones and stood on the bridge watching the grey waters crashing beneath. Sue and Pete took Christopher back and we went into the Crown for a quick one. John and I had Guinness and Dad had lager showing his contempt for Matthew Brown's ale. When we returned home Mum complained. It seems that Dad can go nowhere without her. 

Them.

Us.

We de-frosted in front of a smouldering TV. Dad is becoming more and more anti-telly, and says he could easily put the contraption outside at this time of year. Lynn and Dave arrived with the girls and dusk and the party was complete. Frances and Katie have a very rigorous time-table and once they are in bed we all have to speak in a whisper, and strain to listen to the drone of the TV so not to disturb them. A quiet, yet happy gathering. Sue is a comedienne and delights us. Lynn insisted we watch Barbra Streisand in a sloppy epic, and by 11:30 everyone was drinking coffee. Before midnight I went out into the dark of Horton to await the New Year. Surely enough it arrived and I went in carrying a lump of coal (supposedly to bring good luck) and Dad cracked open four bottles of Italian bubbly. I went out again to let in the New Year at Frances & Bryan's down the lane and she gave me an enormous whisky and equally enormous kiss. She had knocked back three glasses of sherry, more than enough to make her merry. I brought them back to Waltergarth. 

It was Janette's first 'Hogmanay' outside Scotland, and a quiet one by our previous records. I can say with hand on heart that I was sober. How many times have I seen in the New Year without the blur of alcohol upon my eyes? The neighbours left after a glass of plonk and we sat until after 2am. Our child is one of '84 and not '83. Ally so relieved to have got through Christmas intact. Dad crept to bed at 3 and so did the others. I did the washing up with Mum. Mountains of Royal Albert. We had the pink suite. Ally uncomfortable. Baby is pressing down on her ________. And so endeth another year. A year of joy, upheaval and progress. Peace be with you all. Amen.

-=-

Friday December 30, 1983

 5, Club Street, Lidget Green, Bradford

Found some sleep at dawn and then slept until almost 11. Ally was ironing downstairs. She wants everything to be in order when the time comes. I went out for my ritual early walk for a newspaper. Perhaps I should order one to be delivered and save my legs. 

Princess Caroline of Monaco is on the front page with her Italian husband. Prince Rainier has grown a beard. I told Ally that the Grimaldi family will now lapse into their debauched, bohemian ways of old now that Princess Grace is no more. She had a firm hand I suspect. It is now only a matter of time before Rainier marries a nightclub singer with a taste for gin. You mark my words. 

Ally has canceled the milk delivery for tomorrow and has decided we should go to Horton today. She is terrified of going into labour in the barren waste of the Yorkshire Dales or on the heights of Pen-y-ghent and needs some assurance that she will be rushed back to Bradford at the slightest twinge. I phoned Sue and Mum. Sue says that John's Christmas party was poorly attended, with only the usual 'friends' and Marlene and Frank. Mum expected us last night for some reason and had bought sticky cream cakes for Ally. Ally phoned Bessie. Graham and Gill arrived today from the island (Isle of Wight) to spend new year at Martyr Worthy.

Mum: in her element.

At 12:30 we went up to have a bath. It's a tight fit for the two of us these days. We laughed about Horton. It's going to be a battle of the beds. Ally has been promised the pink suite, and I shudder at the thought of the children rioting again. We drove up before nightfall and were the first of the family at Waltergarth. The place is warm and festive. Mum is always in her element midst the family at party time. John and Janette brought Sue, Pete and Christopher before 6 and we all ate. Mum had made a game pie - delicious hare, and we enthused. Dumplings too. Christopher, the image of Susie, was calmer. Perhaps he is growing up a bit. A night around the fire drinking and eating in true seasonal style. John is looking bigger, but not with fat, but muscular. Janette suggested that they might marry at Horton Church and John laughed his sides sore. Bed late.

-=-

Thursday December 29, 1983

 5, Club Street

Uncle Albert day. 14 years since his passing. Colder. I made eggs for Ally and we drank gallons of tea in bed. She read the birth announcements in the Daily Telegraph. No Samuels or Clementines today, although a Samuel Paul was listed yesterday. Ally had a restless night listening to me snoring. She also accused me of stealing her pillows. I chastised her. Why couldn't she simply have shaken me and asked for them back? 

We have a late Christmas card from Uncle Bert in Nottingham which includes Reggie's address. I went out and splashed water on the car. It's only the second clean it's had since September. Ally stood ironing and looked pale today. We ate mounds of sandwiches and banana splits. 

I sat with Margaret Thatcher's biography. What has happened to the Labour party since Harold Wilson's departure? It was bad with him but one hell of a lot worse without him. I can think of nothing worse than Neil Kinnock, the arrogant upstart. Dear Mrs T will be at the helm of government until the 1990s. Watched 'Great Expectations' on TV. Janette phoned but we said we would have to miss the party tonight. I phoned Marlene (because Janette was too shy to do so) to give her the details of John's gathering. All the usual mob are meeting at the Station Hotel, of course. Ally went to the clinic at 3pm and came back tearful. She had endured a long wait in a dismal waiting room and was downhearted._________.

We finished the remains of our Turkey (thank God) and watched a ghost story on Channel 4. I do enjoy an eerie tale. Then with square eyes watched 'Dogs of War', a bit of a let down. So slow. Ally went to bed at 10 and I tolerated the film until 12. To bed with Margaret Thatcher but couldn't sleep, and neither could Ally. She got up and did some washing. I blame the baby.

-=-

Wednesday December 28, 1983

Lord Holderness.

 Stayed in bed until 11. The phone was ringing downstairs. Could it be L. Gledhill to despatch me to a distant tavern at the back of beyond? I let the bloody thing ring. I held my place in bed and slept on. Ally brought me bananas on toast and tea. I was reading Penny Junor's Margaret Thatcher until 1am this morning. What a tremendous year she's had. The first Tory PM since Salisbury to be elected to serve a second term. Miss Junor says that when at Oxford the then Margaret Roberts fell for the second son of an earl who became a luminary in the Conservative party, but doesn't name him. Who could it have been? I say it's Lord Holderness, who, as Richard Wood, was MP for Bridlington. He was at Oxford at the same time as Mrs T. It will all come out in the wash, won't it?

Princess Caroline of Monaco marries an Italian youth tomorrow in a civil ceremony. Let's hope that this one will last. In other news the Pope has visited prison and forgiven the Turk who tried to kill him in May '81. Fool. It's now a green light to terrorists everywhere. Yuri Andropov hasn't been seen in public since June and speculation about the Russian leader's health continues. Most members of the politburo are geriatric. 

Victoria the Great, starring Dame Anna Neagle, was on Channel 4. Lynn and Dave came here for ten minutes at 5 after shopping. Dave ruffled Ally and annoyed her telling her not to sit around waiting for the baby but to be active and go about her usual chores. Cheeky bugger. That is exactly what she is doing. The Bakers friendship with Dave and Elaine Allinson has ended, for ever it seems. Very sad.  ______.

-=-

Tuesday December 27, 1983

 Bank Holiday in the UK & Rep. of Ireland

5, Club Street, Lidget Green, Bradford

Ally has some horrible, dark stretch marks. _________. I awoke in the top bunk at 10. Mum was downstairs making tea and toast. I have a funny tummy _________. It feels chilled and it's very unlike me to suffer in this area. I had breakfast and a brandy by the fire. In fact breakfast lasted long into the afternoon. I went out to buy a paper and later Ally and Dad sat pulling the epic 'El Cid' to pieces. Later they went off to see Sue and Peter. I slept in the chair by the glimmer of the Christmas tree lights. Well, we aren't having a Christmas baby are we? I didn't fancy the idea of spending Yuletide on a labour ward. 

-=-

Monday December 26, 1983

 Bank Holiday in the UK, Rep. of Ireland and Canada

5, Club Street, Lidget Green, Bradford

Slept until 10. Got up and made pancakes for tonight's dinner. Mum and Dad came here after 12 and we talked about the baby. Mum says he'll be called Oliver James. Dad and I went out to inspect the metro who continues to take in water. We re-glued the door lining and mopped up the water. A cold day. We listened to Nat King Cole and relaxed. We appreciate the tranquility of home life and idleness after months of smoke-filled boozers. We ate at 5:30 and sat for three hours. Seafood pancakes, roast beef, roast potatoes, broccoli, pineapple, cream, mince pies, &c. We get on so well with Mum and Dad. _________. Dad created a drink, dark rum with double cream floating atop. He calls it a 'rum Bailey'. Mum doesn't drink quite as much as in years gone by. Just a few whiskies. Watched the news. Violet Carson is dead. Another blow for Coronation Street. We ate chocolates and chatted by the fire. Bed at circa 2am.

-=-

Sunday December 25, 1983

 5, Club Street, Lidget Green, Bradford

Christmas Day

We got up at about 8am and ran around like excited children. We didn't dress but went down to open presents. We exchanged watches. Ally gave me a Nat King Cole LP (memories of karaoke at the Linnie), a yellow Shetland sweater, and Penny Junor's biography of Margaret Thatcher. Alfred the turkey was washed and placed in the oven, and we sat, feet up, drinking Malibu and pineapple. Mary came over with a gift of tea towels and then went off to cook her mother's lunch. Phoned Mum. She was making Sunday lunch at John's. The children are joining them, but not Hannah. We ate at 1:30 (Ally eating like a horse). We watched the Queen, but Mrs Gandhi seemed to dominate the whole programme. Not HM's best Christmas offering. Frank phoned and Ally spoke to Bessie for half an hour. At 4 we left, most unwillingly, to go to Lynn's, where Thorpefields was crowded and noisy with the cries of exhausted

children. We exchanged more presents here. Christopher was taken home hysterical at 7, and the Baker sisters were bathed and bedded too. All the children have been picking their noses today. We sat until 10 and then returned to Club Street where we sat watching the Marx Brothers. Firefly and Mrs Teasdale.

--=-

Saturday December 24, 1983

 Butcher's Arms, Pudsey

Rain. Back to the Butcher's, lacking in Yuletide atmosphere and quite dismal. Auntie Mabel came in at 2 and sat in a corner drinking brandy, Marlene and Frank joined her at 2:30. Auntie says that if I continue in this business she could quite easily become a alcoholic. Marlene was very merry and full of Christmas cheer. Darling Ally came at 3 and we went to Marlene's on Hough Side Road. We had a couple of drinks and returned home to Club St. This evening we went to John's where Mum and Dad are lodging the night. JPH and Catherine were watching 'Flash Gordon'. Both are so Macdonald to look at. We last saw them both in April, 1982. Catherine showed Dad her ballet positions and footwork. John and Janette went out to the Station Hotel to meet Chris Rat, Peter Mather, Martyn Cole, &c. We sat and drank cloudy beer with Mum and Dad until they came back at 11:30 to open some presents. John gave Mum and Dad a gold carriage clock, and they gave me the new (Rolling) Stones LP. Ally a woolly top. Mum gave me a china mug (of all things), and Ally received a fancy night
gown with pants (?). We sat until after 1 and then came home. 

-=-

Friday December 23, 1983

 Butcher's Arms, Pudsey

Back to the Butcher's Arms at 9 where I 'bottled up' surrounded by yapping dogs. Rob had been up until 2am watching TV. Very busy until 3pm. I opened up at 11 and two staff came in at 12. Pudsey people are, in the main, very tolerant good humoured types. Ally feeling fat and uncomfortable and acting peculiarly. Is this it? Home at 4 and collected the turkey (10lb 4oz) costing £5.00. Spent £43 on booze. Phoned Geoff at the Emmott Arms to say I am ignoring him today and not going over to Rawdon. I also phoned Chris at the 'Lion Rouge'. He tells me almost casually that he is in mourning for his brother, apparently a mentally handicapped Cornish person, living in an institution, who choked to death yesterday on an early Christmas lunch. _______. He and Mrs Wills are going to the funeral on Tuesday/Wednesday and he suggested that I might be called upon to take up the mantle of responsibility at Girlington in his absence. No bloody fear. My phone comes off the hook tomorrow. Ally tearful and 'edgy'. This evening the pub was dead and I stood, glass in hand, until 11:30. Rob drives Ally into a coma. He is such a bore. Kath is a smart, prim little thing, but nicer than I have previously thought.

-=-

Thursday December 22, 1983

5, Club Street, Lidget Green, Bradford

Shortest Day

Butcher's Arms.

Soddened. Couldn't reach L. Gledhill, but left a message with Jane at the brewery asking him to phone me. Porridge at dawn. Horrible breakfast TV. Selina Scott really put her foot in it telling the nation that Santa Claus doesn't exist. Can you imagine the sobbing children throughout the realm, sitting around their TV sets? 

To the Butcher's Arms at 9:20, where I 'bottled up' for a 'crippled' Rob. Les Gledhill phoned after 12 and told me to stay at Pudsey until Saturday and asked about the Moorhouse and 'can you do the job?' I of course replied 'yes' and he said he will see me after Christmas. Rob was gleeful and says I have the Moorhouse on the strength of this very vague conversation, but I'm not banking on anything. Frantic day. The till is like a computer and it takes an Einstein-like brain to operate it. Ally saw Dr Duck at 10. The baby can come any time from now until mid-January. Ally weighs 10st 3lb. Not too hideous. There's a lack of seasonal cheer at the Butcher's. Ally baked tonight and I put marzipan on a cake at 7. Butcher's 8-11pm. Hilda and Tony called in. I was too busy to socialise for long. They introduced me to Michelle Myers (nee Pickles), my cousin-in-law, who was in drinking with a girl friend. Home at 11. Saw in the Daily Telegraph that Marlborough House in London may once again become a royal residence. A good thing.

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Wednesday December 21, 1983

 5, Club Street, Lidget Green, Bradford

Butcher's Arms.

Bloody wet. To the Butcher's Arms at Pudsey, where Rob has injured his back lifting a barrel onto the gantry. He is something of a Sarah Bernhardt, I fear. It looks as though I will be here until Saturday because young Master Piper is incapacitated. Kath made 80 Christmas dinners for a pack of factory workers, and yet the festive feeling isn't quite here yet. Poor Ally spent the day going back and forth to Bradford. At 3 we sat down and had turkey and wine . The Pipers have Yorkshire terriers who scurry around like rats. The staff here knife each other in the back, metaphorically of course, reminiscent of the 'Reign of Terror' in the French revolution. Home at 4:30. Cary Grant is soon to be eighty and they (the BBC) are regurgitating all his films. Gammon and pineapple. I then slept in a heap in my chair. Returned to Pudsey for 8. Uneventful. Rob's cellar could be cleaner. Saw Paul Edwards at a fish and chip shop and told him to circulate the news that I am in Pudsey until Christmas. Couldn't reach Gledhill though he did visit Rob at 5.

Tuesday December 20, 1983

 Full Moon

5, Club Street, Lidget Green, Bradford

The Brown Hare, Harehills.

Rain. Phoned L. Gledhill who wasn't in. Phoned Don Whitfield at the Brown Hare and he asked me to be at Harehills for 2pm. Ally washed a batch of nappies and half of them came out frayed at the edges and looked shoddy. They cost us £13 on Saturday. Ally drove me to Leeds and left me at the Brown Hare at 2 and went on to her Mothercraft class at Odsal to watch a film on childbirth. The Brown Hare is a new, red brick erection with a bar longer than I have ever seen. Don Whitfield is a happy go lucky country and western singer. His wife Audrey is a fresh faced chain smoker. He employs boys from the university to work in the bar - a good idea. It's very Linthorpe in its organisation. I worked in the bar - another Christmas party for OAPs. More atmosphere than last Saturday with everyone singing along as if they're at the City Varieties. An amazing cellar. Don's doing almost 20 barrels of ale a week. Ally came back for me at 6 and we bombed off home to watch TV and eat plastic bags of fish in sauce. 'Dallas'. Awful. Ally's childbirth film was worthwhile and she became emotional. We discussed births. Uncle John phoned at 11:30pm from Bourn, near Cambridge, just for a chat. He had no idea of our great change in lifestyle or of our forthcoming baby and didn't receive the letter I posted in April or May. He asked for Mum and Dad's address and said he'd phone us again soon. He laughed at my tales of horror from the Why Not. We do have a very similar sense of humour. To bed. Ally has indigestion and the baby kicked furiously beneath her peppermint nightie.

-=-

Monday December 19, 1983

 5, Club Street, Lidget Green, Bradford

Filthy, wet day. We went out and found Mandy metro taking in more water. Something is going to have to be done, or the floor will give way. We went off to find Hunslet and visited Michael and Beverley Pirie, Australians, at the Moorhouse Inn. We were very pleasantly surprised and Ally was especially delighted at the size of the private living accommodation. The tap room looked as though it needed watching, but the lounge was full of good, quiet people devouring lunch. The pub takes about £2,500 a week, and the Piries make about £80 per week from the catering. It seems a good place to start in. We left after 2 and went shopping in a wet, busy town. I bought Ally 'Diorissimo' perfume and things of a practical nature from Habitat, and went to Samuel's where we bought each other a watch. Police were on the streets clearing shoppers from Marks & Spencers where a bomb scare had brought the IRA threat to the Christmas scene. 

Moorhouse Inn.

The Prince and Princess of Wales have visited the Harrods bomb victims in hospital.  ___________. At 5:30 we went wet and hungry into Da Mario's on the Headrow where I had a panzerotto, and Ally a seafood pizza. Saw cousin Di outside at the bus stop. We talked about the Moorhouse and agreed to phone Les Gledhill and offer to give it a go. Sat by the TV tonight. Ally phoned Bessie. 

-=-

Sunday December 18, 1983

 5, Club Street, Lidget Green, Bradford

4th Sunday in Advent

Number 5.

An idle day - well for me it was. Spent hours wrapping Christmas presents we bought in Winchester. Amazed at the way we didn't dawdle. We usually do this in a mad panic late on Christmas Eve. It goes dark very quickly. So sooner were we out of bed when we were considering climbing back in it. Dave L phoned for the addresses of Lynn and Sue and mentioned that Christine Braithwaite had phoned him quite out of the blue, to say she is divorcing her husband and living back on New Road Side again. She now works behind the bar at the Chevin Inn. I went down the street delivering Christmas cards to our depleted clutch of neighbours. Spent some time with Phyllis Beale, mourning poor Bert. She had a Christmas tree standing no higher than three inches. Went to see Charles Eyden who told me he was born on September 7, 1899. Mary Moore was having a gigantic gathering for lunch and I inspected her festive table. She gave me a pudding and a jar of homemade mincemeat. For the remainder of the day it was one of peace. We sat by the tree lights and played Mario Lanza's Christmas LP, which always raises a laugh. Jim and Margaret called in at 7 and I showed him our leaking lavatory. He taped it up, but blames condensation.

-=-

Saturday December 17, 1983

 5, Club Street, Lidget Green

Red Lion: Christmas party.

I still feel knackered after a good night's repose. Do you think I'm perhaps on edge about something? Christmas cards come flooding in. I went out before breakfast to buy a Daily Telegraph and I ordered a 10lb turkey from the Co-op butcher. It only cost me £5. Oddly, I haven't heard of any 'turkey shortage' scare this year. At this crucial time we are usally told that all the birds are dying in an epidemic, obviously to inflate the prices of those lucky enough to survive. We went in to town and bought a Christmas tree (with root) for £7. Town was like Hell and we came home after a couple of hours. The IRA have bombed Harrods. Dear God. I went out at 1pm to the Red Lion to help out at the hideous OAPs Christmas party. Old, senile dodderers spluttering turkey and pudding. Some of them, touchingly, wept with joy. Santa Claus came and so too did a Salvation Army band, and Les Gledhill. Chris Wills took Gledhill off to play pool and I worked my arse off. Something's wrong somewhere. The old folk staggered out at 5:30 and I did the bar until 8. Ally collected me in the motor. She was tired. We went home to pork pie and mushy peas. Afterwards we decorated the Christmas tree. Had a few beers and watched 'The Devil Rides Out'. To bed at 12:45. Ally attempted to push me out. What a darling.

-=-

Friday December 16, 1983

 Waltergarth, Station Rd, Horton-in-Ribblesdale

Emmott Arms, Rawdon.

Mum woke us at 7:30 and cooked a breakfast. Just Ally and I ate because they never touch fried food. We said our goodbyes and quit Horton at 8:30. Pen-y-ghent was nowhere to be seen. Drove to the Emmott Arms for our liaison with L. Gledhill. Geoff and Alison (trainees from the Linthorpe) arrived here today to find the place in chaos. Eight people are booked in for Christmas lunch upstairs and no staff were on hand to prepare and so area manager Donna Lea is doing the cooking, and I am the wine waiter. A farce. I have never served wine at tables before, and felt self-conscious as I fumbled around with the bottles. I cannot have been too bad because they gave me a £2 tip. I finished at 2 and attempted to contact Ally, who had pootled off home, to no avail. I continued to try and contact her until after 6, and the most sinister thoughts passed through my mind. I sat upstairs with Geoff until 5:30, and then I opened the pub for him working until 7. Saw Philip Cartwright, who never changes. He was surprised to see me working for Sam Smiths. He relived our Pine Tops Christmas parties from '73 and '74. When I got through to Ally I am told she had been at hospital with Mary (Moore) who had cut her finger whilst carving a joint. Blood everywhere. I was so very relieved to hear her voice. Imagine if I had become a father without a ringside seat? Horrific. Tired and done in. Home. Food. Bed. Who would have ever thought I'd be running the bar at the Emmotts, such a regular haunt of my youth? You wouldn't recognise the place now. Very dismal and dilapidated.

-=-

Thursday December 15, 1983

 5, Club Street, Lidget Green, Bradford

Waltergarth, Horton-in-Ribblesdale.

Fog. We went to Rawdon where I saw my dentist. He charged me £4 to do absolutely nothing but poke around in my mouth. Whatever happened to old Hough? Struck off perhaps, for mauling some poor housewife. By 10:30 we were at Sue's. She gave me a whisky. Christopher looked very grown up in his woolly pullover and he sat on my knee looking at a picture book. He seems an intelligent child, and no quite the lunatic people make him out to be. Sue looked thin and not in the least pregnant. On to Lynn's where the house was like an igloo, only colder. The children were blue with cold and ill-humoured. Lynn complained that she isn't mature, ______ and has no money, and was generally 'low'. Back at home we have a note from Les Gledhill asking me to phone. This I did, and he asked me to meet him at the Emmott Arms at 10am tomorrow. We went up to Horton at 5:30 and dined with Mum and Dad. Afterwards we decorated their Christmas tree and sat by the coal fire. Dad sat weaving the rug we bought him when he retired. Bed after 12.

-=-

Wednesday December 14, 1983

 5, Club Street, Lidget Green, Bradford

Tony.

The old King and Uncle Tony share a birthday today. The old King (George VI) was 40 on the day of Tony's birth. Needless to say we sent a card (not to the old King, which would have been pointless, but to Tony). Sarah C phoned from the YP. She is just the same. Spent the day, the whole day, writing Christmas cards, after having breakfast in bed. Ally cannot sleep these days and was up at dawn pacing the rooms. The toilet has sprung a leak and we now resemble the RMS Lusitania taking in water everywhere. Phoned Dave Lawson. He has bought a house in South Elmsall, and now speaks in a south yorkshire accent. He thought Ally wasn't due until april and gasped when I told him her time is now due. Phoned Dave G. He and Lily have won a 10-day holiday to Mexico, or an island off Mexico, from January 7. Sat by the TV. Coronation Street. Len Fairclough's funeral. Cheese and onion toasties. No word from L. Gledhill and so tomorrow we are escaping to Horton-in-Ribblesdale.

-=-

Tuesday December 13, 1983

 The Red Lion, Thornton Rd, Bradford 8

Club Street.

We left the Red Lion at 12:30 after Chris and Elaine's return. The stocktake showed a £7 defecit, but that's no problem. Chris says he will continue with the ban on our canine friends, and we took our leave and returned to Club Street. Sheryl was in at opening time to deliver her daily 'homage' of 'arse licking'. We made our escape quickly. The King is dead, long live the king, &c. Customers are apt to become unnerved  at the sight of two managers in the pub at one and the same time. Elaine pets and slobbers over her dog, Michael (named after Mike Walker from the brewery), and was so loud that the stocktaker sat with his fingers in his ears. 

At home I had fish and chips. Ally went to mothercraft classes to learn about heavy breathing and stretch marks, and I went out to buy a TV licence. Our licence expired in September and the woman in the post office looked at me aghast as though I was one, or even both, of the Kray twins. Looked at old newspapers and felt cosy at my own home on my own settee. It was odd not to ring a bell and call 'time' at 3 o'clock. News: Sir Keith Holyoake, KG, died last weel. That leaves a vacancy for me. Lady Docker has croaked too. Is Mrs T in her last term as PM? Will those foul peacewomen succeed at Greenham Common? Will Di give birth to twin princes in 1984? Is the NGA doomed? Phoned Mum to say I cannot be definite about visiting on Thursday until I have spoken to Les Gledhill. I do hope we can fit in a quiet weekend at Horton.

-=-

Monday December 12, 1983

 Red Lion, Thornton Road, Bradford 8

Switzerland arrived at Thornton Road. I was up at dawn shovelling snow and cleaning the beer lines, &c. Ally helped filling buckets with slops.  Mrs Sheryl Hepworth, 36, the Red Lion cook, formerly Miss Seymour, claims kinship with Henry VIII and 'Princess Diana', and reckons she is in line to the Dukedom of Somerset. Last year she drove her husband, Reg, insane, and he was closeted for 8 weeks in Linfield Mount (the place where Mrs Rochester would be incarcerated if Charlotte Bronte was to write 'Jane Eyre' today). Sheryl is an aligator, only more sly. Our climax at the Red Lion. Les Gledhill paid us a quick visit to say he'll phone us on Wednesday to make arrangements for some work before Christmas. He doesn't want me 'moping' around at home. Obviously, he doesn't know me. I have never moped. Worked with Rita. Jean and Enid stayed back for drinks. Ally did the tills upstairs. We have somehow acumulated an extra £25 and so we took it for ourselves. It is the done thing. 

-=-

Sunday December 11, 1983

 Red Lion, Thornton Road, Four Lane Ends, Bradford 8

3rd Sunday in Advent

The BRI.

Snow fell this evening. The first of the winter. Bing Crosby will be in full voice somewhere. His awful 'White Christmas' gets a hammering every bloody year. I got into the bath at opening time and let the girls get on with it. I just gave them a hand in the bar at the end. This afternoon we went up to the BRI to inspect the maternity building along with another couple who expect a bundle of joy in February. We left after an hour feeling highly nervous and well aware that the time is almost upon us. Ally looked slightly terror struck at the sight of heart monitors and breathing apparatus. Those rooms look so impersonal and clinical. This first baby caper is certainly a step into the unknown. We went on to Harden to see Jean and David. Jean pregnant but isn't big, and silent as ever. David has grown a nautical beard and was friendly as ever. They like the names Nathaniel and Samuel. We just eyed each other. Our Samuel will be born first anyway. Back to the 'Lion Rouge' for 7. Jim, Margaret and Julie came. Julie has hair like the singer Paul Young. They left in snow at 8:30 and we went out and bought a Chinese take-away.

-=-

Saturday December 10, 1983

 Red Lion, Thornton Rd, Four Lane Ends, Bradford 8

Tel: 496684

I did not go crazy last night, and so not hungover. We only spent £11 after time, and by we I of course mean the full company. It is the anniversary of the abdication of King Edward VIII in 1936. The Duchess of Windsor is hanging on by the skin of her teeth over in Paris. It will be interesting to see what becomes of her jewels when she is no more. I hope that Queen Mary's gems don't fall into the hands of some ghastly, cheap American, and that they come home to the Crown. I had a busy afternoon with Enid, and a similar night with Jean and Rita. Jean stayed back at 11 and had a brandy by the fire. A Pakistani piled his X-reg motor up against the Co-op wall and we all went out to look. Biting cold. Our customer, old Mary, says she isn't long for this world. I'm inclined to agree with her.

-=-

Friday December 9, 1983

 Red Lion, Thornton Road, Four Lane Ends, Bradford 8

The Red Lion.

I have ceased to make comments on national and international affairs touching us at this moment in time. To be honest I seldom see the TV news and I look at the Daily Telegraph for about ten minutes each day which is no good. According to the Press Prince William has given his father a heavy cold, and a portrait of the Duke of Edinburgh by Bryan Organ has been unveiled at the National Gallery. Amazing that no other portraits of the duke are to be found in a national collection. Organ portrays him as an ageing reptile, but it is a good likeness. We went to the bank and passed an afternoon of peaceful quietude. So unlike our life at the Why Not. 

This evening the clan gathered here to see how I am coping.John and Janette arrived first followed by Lynn and Dave, then Karen, Steve, Di, Paul, Jill and Tim. I wasn't expecting to see the Pudsey crowd at all. Finally, in walked Marlene and Frank, and they didn't expect to see their Pudset kinfolk either. Marlene was only expecting the Rhodes delegation. Poor Sue has a galloping Delhi belly, and is indisposed. I had to work but kept joining the revellers on the other side. I ejected a youth, who, whilst drunk, fell over the coal scuttle and mangled it, and then threatened to rape a blue-rinsed matron from Heaton. No violence however. Lynn and Dave had to leave at 11 because Audrey was sitting with the children but we entertained the remaining crew to a private drink. Paul seemed enthralled by pub life and I showed him the cellars. He squealed with delight at the sight of wooden barrels. _______. John says business isn't doing too well and he cannot see Rhodes & Ettenfield going public in the near future. They all left after a couple of drinks and we took to our bed. All the girls had been in pearls.Karen, in a tartan suit and patent shoes looked like Ruth, Lady Fermoy.

-=-

Thursday December 8, 1983

 Red Lion, Thornton Road, Four Lane Ends, Bradford 8

Ally went to see Sister Matthews but first she saw an old haridan who gasped when poor pet mounted the scales. My poor wife weighs almost 10 stones. She says she's been eating the wrong food. This is true. Since we came here it's been a flow of deep fried this and deep fried that - not in any way beneficial to young Sam/Clemmie. Sister Matthews wasn't distressed saying Ally is progressing well. Our baby has dropped into 'take off' position. She always comments on Ally's pretty dresses. We now eagerly await the big day. Ally was very good with Mum and Dad on Tuesday and offered them room and shelter at Club Street throughout the accouchement. Mum wants to be around and 'involved'. 

-=-

Wednesday December 7, 1983

 Red Lion, Thornton Road, Four Lane Ends, Bradford 8

Ally & Lynn.

Day off. Mum and Dad went off to Settle to collect a frozen turkey from the Co-op. They're making a Christmas dinner for guests on Saturday. We went to Ashley Mills to look at nappies, but bought none. Should we purchase Zorbit ones, that is the question? Cold, freezing day. On to the Butcher's Arms at Pudsey where we had lunch with Rob and Kath Piper. It's a very suitable tavern and both Ally and I would have it if we had the opportunity. Rob told us to go to Hunslet to look at the Moorhouse Inn which is vacant. The place doesn't sound good as it's surrounded by multi-storey flats and is next door to a Salvation Army citadel. Oh dear. On at 3pm to Lynn's. We found her walking with the pram in Guiseley and we went back to Thorpefields for tea and cake. The house is freezing. The Bakers do not use the central heating and an icy chill hangs throughout the house. The children's fingers are blue with cold. Frances is going to be an angel in the playschool nativity play, and she sang one of the songs, but very quietly. Ally, straining to hear, says it's 'We Will Rock You'. Back to the Red Lion for 6. I lit a fire for Enid and then went upstairs. Len Fairclough has been 'killed off' on Coronation Street.

-=-

Tuesday December 6, 1983

 Red Lion, Thornton Road, Four Lane Ends, Bradford 8

Sun, but frost. Up at 6:30 and off out in a frost coated Mandy Metro at 8:30 to Rochdale, and the Kingsway Hotel. It isn't as far as I thought it would be. Mike Walker and Les Gledhill were setting up a conference room in an impoverished lounge decorated in Why Not wallpaper, to make me feel at home. The trainees from the Linthorpe (not the bearded one) was there.They go to Levenshulme tomrrow and then from Dec 16th to Jan 3rd to the Emmott Arms. Others there include a chap from Blackpool and Ron Brook, Cheshire Midland, &c. The conference was hosted by the peculiar Don Bywater, who has been doing this for 14 years, but makes it look like his first attempt. He went over the 1974 legislation and set out different examples. Lunched on steak. Ally was uncomfortable on the hard, school-like chairs, but didn't complain. We watched a ridiculous educational film where a woman was slicing off her limbs trapped in canteen equipment which made Les Gledhill feel queasy and had us all giggling. We left at 4. Via Club Street to the 'Lion Rouge', as Ally calls it. Jean was holding the fort. I lit the fire and listened to news of the afternoon. Two 70 year-olds had a punch up at 3pm over their dogs and both were ejected by Enid and Jean. 'No Dogs Allowed' signs go up. Chris and Elaine can sort it out when they get back. Who should walk in at 7 but Mum and Dad who had been at Sue's. Ally came down and we had a few pre-prandials. Mum had been given whisky at the Nasons and was soon intoxicated on whisky and American dry, and so at 8:30 we went upstairs. Dad and I went out and bought prawn curry for us all. I ate like a half starved puma. We argued about the date of birth of cousin Reggie's baby. I insist Richard was born on March 4, but Mum insists Apr 8th. There was a minor skirmish in the tap room over a Yorkshire terrier.  Tired. We all went to bed at 1:30.

-=-

Monday December 5, 1983

 Red Lion, Thornton Road, Four Lane Ends, Bradford 8

Ally and I were out at the bank this morning when Les Gledhill dropped in. He waited for us to return. I told him I am going to a health and safety at work seminar tomorrow and he said he'd be present too and suggested that perhaps Ally should be there as well. This is a great idea because I didn't fancy a long day on my own in far off Rochdale. Sheryl 'the mouth' worked this evening instead of Rita, who has a cold. Sheryl has been called for jury service at Leeds Crown Court for two weeks from Dec 12th, and is going to try and get an exemption certificate from her doctor. She suffers from "arthuritis" and says she'll be crippled sitting in a jury box until Christmas. But I think one has to be dying to escape jury service.

-=-

Sunday December 4, 1983

 2nd Sunday in Advent

Red Lion, Thornton Road, Four Lane Ends, Bradford 8

Sue, Ally & Christopher.

Up at 7:30 with a dry throat. I went down to play with my barrels in the cellar. I derive more pleasure meddling with the wooden casks of ale than I did with the great tanks at the Why Not. The method of serving up beer in this manner cannot have changed for many years. When Sue phoned recently she said that JPH and Catherine have been in Guiseley and had visited West End Terrace. JPH, she says, is looking more like me. He has my 'long face' (her words). Do I have a long face? Surely, I am rugged yet gentle and with stream-lined contours giving a virile countenance. Lunchtime was soon upon us. Jean yelled upstairs that a lady had come to see us. I went down to find Marlene in the tap room. Frank, Mark, and Auntie Mabel followed. Poor Ally had just submerged her gigantic frame into the bath and so I went down to entertain my dear relations. They were impressed by the place. It is certainly drab from without. I sat with the Pudsey quartet until 2 and then we went up to see Ally, beautiful, bedecked in pearls. We had a brandy downstairs in the lounge after time. It was Auntie Mabel's first 'stoppyback' in all her 64 years. 

Mark looks very young. His voice has broken, and he's doing his mock O levels this week. He seemed deep in thought. They left at 3 and we went to Pamela's at Shipley where the remnants of Rebecca's christening party were to be found. Jim and Co were playing cards in the smoke-filled dining room. Sue was eager to leave and we took them to Guiseley. Christopher is very blond and leggy.  They laughed. The christening, in the Sunday morning service (Metholdist) went on for TWO hours and at the end a drunk wandered in and demanded that they all should sing his favourite hymn ... which they did. Hilarious. Sadly, Sue cannot recall what hymn it was. A boring lament. We had chilli con carne and I slipped into a coma in an armchair. Back to the Red Lion for 7. Sheryl didn't get away until 11:30, and was attempting to have her own private 'stoppyback'. We watched TV in a horizontal position. A Bette Davis film.

-=-