Wednesday November 30, 1983

 St Andrew's Day

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

I woke up feeling grotty and 'hungover' though not a drop of alcohol passed my lips last night. I felt weary this morning and in need of fresh air. Jean and Enid worked from 11 and Ally and I were free to take a day off. Before leaving I sliced off the end of my thumb with a kitchen knife while slicing a lemon. Heavily bandaged I made good my escape from the Red Lion to ourcottage just a few mile away. The white 'moses' basket stands in splendid isolation awaiting the arrival of its tiny occupant. We went into town where Ally tried on a series of hideous tent-like frocks, like an 18 stone black and gold fairy, to a floral 'Tessie O'Shea'. Poor pet was unsure about the black and grey creation for tonight but decides it is the better option. To calm ourselves we went to lunch at Giuseppi's Backyard. £8 on pizza, lasagne, and sticky chocolate fudge cake. Felt much better afterwards. We phoned our mums. Both well, happy and contented. We went at 6:30 to the Buckle's Inn at Askham Richard for the brewery Yuletide 'knees up'. Had champers and brandy (pre-prandial), with Roy, Marie, Tim, various trainees, Elaine & Chris Wills. She looked pale and bloated although her baby isn't due until April 1. At dinner we were on Colin Black's table and we sat next to a Barnsley couple now at Redcar. Rob and Cath (ex Green Dragon, Stockton), sat on the other side, and are now at the Butcher's Arms, Pudsey. Snobby. Roast beef and Yorkshire pudding. Lashings of wine. I was pissed. Didn't see Roy and Marie until the end. He wasn't his usual self. He was 'well oiled' though I suspect Marie had given him a serious talking to. He had given up heavy spirits for dry martinis. I drank brandy and Babycham and clung to a box of cherry liqueur chocolates. David Tyne chatted with Ally and attempted to buy her a drink, but was foiled when I got to the bar ahead of him, unfortunately. We left at a disgusting late hour passing Roy dancing with Ronnie Simpson in the lounge. A forgotten drive home.

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