Wednesday November 9, 1983

 The Why Not, Hemlington

The Why Not.

Fog inside and out. The broken fans, which in happier times filtered the cigarette smoke, give the place an eerie atmosphere and this afternoon was like the opening scene of 'Macbeth'. The witches appeared in the shape of Jan Simpson and the hag, Pat. The latter has a laugh like the Wicked Witch of the West in the Wizard of Oz and professes to have the ability to read tea leaves. I supplied her with none. I do not mess with superstitious nonsense. By 3pm the place was like a brothel with Jan like a saloon girl in a western, movie sitting astride old Maurice, the Scottish jew. Ally, thank God, was out at the shops, buying pork chops and posting letters. We sent a birthday card to Tim, and letters to Lynn, Sue, Auntie Mabel and Edna & Nellie. By 3:30 it was dark. I am fagged out. We ate pork chops and lay on the bed. The bump is low and Ally lay vibrating. What an active child we have. Smoke screen again tonight.I was on my own in the bar at 8:30 when in walked Roy, Marie and Mags who stayed for an hour. While they were here a fight kicked off in the back bar which resulted in blood stained dominoes. Then two policemen came in to tell me that the arch-criminal Peter Clayton is our of prison on bail but barred from visiting Middlesbrough. This is all we need in our final week. Roy laughed at the way I handle things. I think he's astounded that I have done so well here and not suffered defeat. They went of in the smog at 9:20. They would like us to stay with them next Thursday, but of course we want to go home. A letter arrived today confirming we are to go to the Red Lion in Bradford on Nov 28 for two weeks. Our penultimate Wednesday is over.

-=-