Thursday November 17, 1983

 Why Not, Hemlington

Our cottage.

Fran O'Brien was here early and snooping around in the lounge and getting in the way of the cleaners. He asks whether the bedding is ours or his. It's ours. He went off to court in Middlesbrough with Tim and as I was packing the car I ceased to be the licensee here. I felt rotten. Ally chatted to the stocktaker as I attempted to get a grip of myself. Tim, poor boy, was on edge, and when Joe Battle came in shouting and swearing he went for him like a wild beast, and punches were exchanged before noon. Brenda was hysterical with laughter. Roy and Marie called to say goodbye. Marie said that drink makes Mags 'go loopy'. I don't think the demon drink does Roy much good either. Tim says poor Roy has been going through a bad patch lately. William has left home, &c. We left Hemlington at 1:30 and I was violently sick as we hurtled down the A1. Shaking like a leaf too. Ally drove via Pontefract (!) to see Sister Matthews who said she has a large, fine baby. Back to our cottage where we sat by the fire in a complete state of shock. Bed.

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