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.

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