Tuesday January 24, 1984

 5, Club Street, Lidget Green, Bradford

Still, deep snow. Ally prodded me at 6:30. Samuel had slept since 11:30 last night. What a good boy he is. Ally 'topped and tailed' the infant and I went down with buckets of filthy nappies to wash them and make pots of tea and biscuits. Plunged into a hot bath. Boiled eggs for breakfast. Ally came down in red dungarees and yellow shirt carrying our wide-eyed heir. They sat on the settee listening to Ella Fitzgerald. Samuel particularly enjoys 'Manhattan'. Heavily wrapped I went out into the thaw, well it certainly looks like a thaw. Everything dripping and too bright and clear for further snow. I bought a newspaper and squelched around digging out the car from its white grave. I had to borrow a spade from Mary. She talked about 1947 like old people do whenever snow is lying on the ground. 

Tubby slept in his cot, and Ally, flat out on the floor, slept. I watched an awful 1940s film. Baby woke and I nursed him. I find his face quite fascinating. I phoned Dave Glynn. He laughed at the name Sam. 

We had chicken stew at 5:30. Dumplings - the lot. The TV was diabolical and for some reason we lost Channel 4. Must be the weather. Ally phoned David Watts who was just back from visiting Jean and baby Hannah. They had a real old heart to heart which isn't usually Ally's style.

Ally was tired tonight. We went up to bed at 11. This is Samuel's time to let rip. We messed with him until after 12. I feel shattered too. This father lark isn't all pipe and slippers and mint imperials. Dear me, no. According to 'today's birthdays' in the D.Telegraph Lord Spencer was 60 yesterday, and again today. In fact the earl's birthday is today.

-=-