Saturday June 18, 1983

Gill, Matthew & Frank

 Warm and sunny. A fried repast. Frank and Bessie were eager to leave for Coleford and we dashed around in the kitchen like a circus act. We left at 10:15 down the 'boring' M4 to Gloucestershire. Over the Severn Bridge but the view was spoiled by the mist. Into Wales and at Graham & Gill's for 12:15. Graham was away in Monmouth but he appeared after half an hour. Matthew is much gown and is a Dixon except for the Lynn eyes. He is placid and good natured. We had a good gin and then drove to Ross-on-Wye and sat outside a pleasant tavern and had a good lunch. Matthew in a blue bonnet. I had trout and snapped away photographing like Patrick Lichfield. Frank paid for everything and it came to £35 ___________. Afterwards back to Graham & Gill's where we sprawled in the sun and consumed two carafes of the Lynn white wine. The dog, Tara, is an an attractive canine and not horribly yellow like some retrievers. More white. Frank giggled with the dog like I have never seen him do before. Perhaps he should get one. It might work well on his temper. Still hot when we left at 6:30. An arduous 2 hour journey. Ally looked sick throughout and only her great presence of mind prevented her spewing. At home she went to bed and I joined her at 10. F & B were sipping brandy and watching a film.

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Friday June 17, 1983

 Moon's first quarter

Chillandham Cross, Martyr Worthy

Dull. Slept until after 9. Pantomime downstairs with Andrew and Frank playing with the motorcycle. A fiery breakfast which ended with Frank storming out at 10. They cannot manage Andrew. Ally and I escaped to Romsey for a few hours to look at the shops ... for baby gear again. In the end she bought Matthew a T-shirt in Woolworths. We didn't have a drink because our past experience of Romsey pubs isn't good. Back to Bessie for coffee at 1 and we took her to Alresford where she had her hair done at 1:30. Ally and I went into the Horse & Groom where a crowd of A-level students were having a drinking competition. Nostalgic. We too used to get arseholed too when we were teenagers. How we have survived for so long I will never know. We looked at antiques. 

Later we had a cream tea in the garden and discussed Bessie's ancestry. She is quite hopeless. Her father, Albert Braithwaite, was a newsaggent and stationer. (I have jotted some details in the back of this journal). Ally sat reading a glossy baby magazine. Twins seem to be the in thing. Joshua is back as our chief baby boy name. I am happy with it but Ally thinks it might be a bit too 'biblical'. Judas Rhodes would be worse, I think. I pottered around watering the vast garden. Later had steak pie and watched the atrocious TV. The Waleses are in Canada, the Pope in Poland, and the prime minister in Stuttgart. Mrs T becomes more statesman-like with every passing day. Ally was in bed at 9. I stayed up watching a ridiculous sex film on Channel 4. Bed at 1:30.

Willie Whitelaw was introduced to the Lords yesterday as Viscount Whitelaw, of Pentrith with remainder 'to the heirs male of his body lawfully begotten'. So he will be the first and last Viscount Whitelaw, unless of course he runs off with an 18 year-old, marries her, and begets a son. 

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