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.

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