Saturday March 12, 1983

 Disgracefully we lay amongst our crumpled bedding until after 9. Ally concocted breakfast while I threw on my clothes and went out to the little shop over the road to buy five pillows at 95p each from a confused Pakistani. Evidently the price is something of a phenomenon and Mama, who wants them for Waltergarth, cannot let this opportunity slip by. We had breakfast and then went to Bradford, that is the metropolis, to buy a chicken and oven gloves (for Mum on Mother's Day) and then came home in the choking cigarette fumes at the top op of the bus. Took a steaming hot bath and listened to Duran Duran thumping up from below.

John and Janette came at 2pm and they sat for half an hour before taking us up to Horton, and the chaos of the accumulated family. Janette has found a job from Easter selling caravans and accessories at Yeadon. ___________. We drove up to Horton with a poorly made tape of the (Rolling) Stones. Jagger seemed to be singing through his underpants. Furious activity at Horton. Dad and Jim were under the floor banging around and we didn't see them for hours. Mum sat with Margaret, Susie and Christopher, and we joined them. Christopher is a comedian and rolled around the room causing much hilarity. We dined at 6 - the grown ups at the dining table, and the children in front of the television, and afterwards we, that is Sue, Pete, John, Janette, Ally and I, went to the Station Inn at Ribble Head, where we congregated around the juke box and drank like fish. It was so good for us all to be together making merry.  Janette joked that we were celebrating John (and Maria's) wedding anniversary, which falls tomorrow. Peter grows more and more to be like John Cleese. Sue like a bean-pole, but looks well. ________. We remained 'after hours' and left at 12:30. The common-law wife of the publican, draped in chiffon, was playing billiards, looking acutely bored, and making eyes at every man in the place. Back at Waltergarth we had sausage sandwiches and a few glasses of wine before retiring. Poor John and Janette had to sleep on the settee.

-=-

Friday March 11, 1983

 My usual egg with Ally. To the YP with our vital statistics but didn't get a chance ton see Geoff all day and so I locked them in a drawer until next week. We had a young 18 year-old German girl in the office for the day. She is related to Delius. Kathleen said: "I thought he was a Bradford chap?" I tried desperately not to mention the war but found myself talking about jews, the bombing of Coventry, Eva Braun, Klaus Barbie and the 'Butcher of Lyons' (joke). Kathleen gave me £3.55 and I walked up to Morrison's at lunchtime and bought a bottle of Liebfraumilch which we drank with cream buns in the afternoon to celebrate the final day of indexing the YP. After 110 years Kathleen has decided to axe it as part of the library cuts. Carol J was close to tears. I feel sure that she now regrets applying for redundancy but now finds the door firmly slammed behind her. Surely, 'President Carter' isn't going to keep her?

Saw a batch of 15 photos of the Prince of Wales, Pcess of Wales, & Prince William of Wales all at Highgrove to be released next Tuesday. The Daily Express says that the Prince (junior) will be flying to the 'colonies' with eighteen tons of Johnson's Baby Powder. Diana has exquisite teeth, you know.

Ally phoned Lynn ___________. I phoned Mama who says Henry is resigned to the worst and is in a dreadful state. Phoned Sue. She goes tonight to Horton. Phoned John. He is coming to us tomorrow. He seems to be out at every opportunty with Chris and Pete. Janette may be his concubine, but clearly abandoned. I told John to ring Lynn. Ally phoned Bessie. Cousin Beverley Tebby has miscarried. Hot bath. TV. Ally made some rum truffles for Mummy on Mother's Day and here I am writing this at 10:43pm. The horrid ice-skating championships are on the telly.

-=-

Thursday March 10, 1983

 Geoff (Hemingway) approached me this afternoon and asked me to give him "within the next few weeks" a full run-down of mine and Ally's qualifications both in academic and in commerce, &c. He says he will compose a letter, on our behalf, and bombard his contacts in the brewery trade. He has really taken me under his wing. He says he has made some discreet inquiries about me, and smiling, says I am not the person out of the office that I am in it. Is he trying to say that I go berserk once freed from the quiet confines of the library? Somebody must have been filling him in.

Didn't hear any further news of Audrey Baker today and didn't phone anyone, with the exception of my wife. I phone Ally every day.

My hair is horrible. I've just been looking at it. I've seen an article in the Times about mens hair and now fancy a 'D.A. cut'. Good good, most men of my generation are now green and spiky. I left the ofice at 5:06pm and suffered because of it. Got no bus until 5:50, and didn't walk in the house until 6:50. Like a wounded puma. Ally brought me round. Avocado and prawns followed by lasagne. Cuddles, &c. Spent the evening typing our vital statistics for Geoff. Watched the ghastly 'Citadel' and to bed after 12.

-=-

Wednesday March 9, 1983

 We were laying in bed at 7am with no particular enthusiasm until we heard the thud of the mail coming through the letter box. Ally scampered downstairs like a young lamb and came back screaming with letters from Tetley's and Sam Smith's breweries. The Tetley's application form looks best, but let's wait and see. At least this is something to go at. We had eggs and Ally's fresh bread and went our separate ways.

Phoned Mum. She had heard from Lynn. Audrey is still unconscious, supposedly sedated, and that she's on a machine to keep her lungs going. My God it sounds awful. I came back at lunchtime (to the YP) and found Geoff Hemingway whispering with Kathleen. He gave her the same treatment that he gave me yesterday, that I am too good an employee to lose. He then gave me a fiver for a tip, but I know of none. Had a chat with Steve Burnip. He's leaving in a month and wants to open a second hand book shop. Surely this redundancy caper will be the making of us folk in awful, dull jobs. Sarah says that Mrs Slocombe has told Austin-Clarke that I intended leaving anyway, with or without the redundancy money. The cow!

I sat in Park Square with a sandwich looking at the daffodils poking up through the soil. Will poor Audrey be around to see them in flower? This tragedy is such a blow. She is only 54. Phoned Ally. Not in a joyful mood. The hideous Derek is getting her down.

At home I was very positive and took up the phone and dialled five or six local pubs to ask about bar work. The landlord at the Oddfellows was the most interested and took down my particulars, and said he'd ring me when a vacancy occurs. The others were disinterested and very brief. We ate a very odd meal tonight. Veg soup, potatoes (baked), melted cheese, cold rice pudding from yesterday, and orange squash to drink. On Channel 4 Peter Bogdanov(ich) was talking about Shakespeare's 'Measure for Measure'.

At 7:15 I phoned poor David B who sounded shattered. He explained his mother's injuries, which are terrible. Her liver was 'cut in half' on impact, and that she will be unconscious until the weekend or even afterwards. She recognised Dave and Henry yesterday and squeezed their hands and moved her eyes in response to their questions. The internal bleeding has been stopped, but they must be prepared for a long wait. I offered our sympathy to him. He seemed utterly desolate. We watched TV and sat in solemn reflection. Dallas, the news, bed.

-=-