Sunday January 29, 1984

 5, Club Street

4th Sunday after Epiphany

3:45 again. I stepped out to inspect my growing progency, who patiently awaited his morning repast. I went down to wash nappies and crept around. Greater love hath no man .....

Talked of visiting Auntie Annie in Colne eager to get out and about with our beady eyed angel. The thaw is here and we feel sure that the roads over the border will be passable now. I cooked a full-english (breakfast) which Ally moaned about because I fried with the kitchen window wide open. Margaret Nason phoned to say that Christopher has mumps and saw an emergency doctor in the night. Ally phoned Sue to sympathise and spoke to the invalid who told her he has 'umps'. 

Auntie Annie with Samuel and Ally.

At 1pm we set off to Colne in a burst of sunshine. I sat in the back of the car like a nanny next to my well-wrapped issue. We got to Auntie Annie's at about 2 and Samuel immediately squealed until he was fed and changed. Ally fed Samuel in Uncle Bert's downstairs bedroom. We had soup and sandwiches. I questioned Annie about the Dixon lineage and she went away to find old family photos and certificates. She came back from the loft covered in dust and with her father's birth certificate (a copy dated 1905) which was in three pieces and like the Dead Sea Scrolls. Thomas Dixon was born on July 13 1890, registered by his father who signed with a mark being unable to write. he was born at Sherfin Side, Henheads, Haslingden, son of Thomas Dixon, farmer and stone quarrier, and of Mary Dixon formerly Ashworth. Ally's grandpa's birth was registered Aug 27 1890. So, Ashworth is another branch to contend with. She showed us Great Auntie Ellie's death certificate too. She was born a Jobling and was found dead by Annie on March 24 1973. Poor Uncle Bert sat in his armchair like a lump of cheese, but he spoke much better than on previous occasions. We took our leave after 5 and jouneyed home the picturesque way through Haworth in the dark, Ally shouting for Heathcliff over the moorland road.  We sat with more sandwiches and pots of tea and watched a Richard Burton film The Medusa Touch. Quite good. Bed at 11. I nursed Samuel until he dropped off and instead of telling him all about Goldilocks and the Three Bears I recounted to him the tragedy of the Abdication Crisis of 1936 which soon knocked him out. Read the Queen Mother by Elizabeth Longford and lights went out at midnight.

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