Tuesday October 4, 1983

 The Why Not, Hemlington

Bright and blustery. Ally was violently sick. This nausea is going to go on until our child is here. Sickness, late on, often results in twins. I have never seen such violent kicks from an unborn baby. Will she hang on until 1984? We were up early and decided to go out for the morning. A trial run for Sunday's exodus. Brenda and Margaret were working and so we ought to be covered for an emergency. Off we went at 12 leaving an electrician and an insurance man grovelling in the lounge. It seems ages since we went out into the outside world and went blinking through the crowded Middlesbrough streets. To the shops. Ally found a 'passable' dress in Mothercare and a black handbag and shoes to match. We went to a jewellers and bought Katie a silver plated napkin ring and had her initials engraved upon it. It makes a change to the stainless steel Rupert Bears and Mrs Bunnykins tableware. We are quite delirious about having a day off on Sunday. At 3 I phoned Brenda who told me it had been 'dead quiet'. We returned at 4 to eat. A quiet non-violent evening. Clive Freeman, the 18 year-old rugby player, started work. The locals eyed him with suspicion. One punter asked whether he's a judo black belt or karate expert. Obviously, I say he is a leading martial arts champion. Ally stayed upstairs. Tubby kicking furiously. Politics: That awful Welsh politician has been elected leader of the Labour party. Shudder, shudder.

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Monday October 3, 1983

 Why Not, Hemlington

Sam Smith’s have increased their beer prices. The price of a pint of Old Brewery bitter goes up to 55p from 52p. The shock drove customers away. At lunchtime we only took £50 from both bars combined. Very bad. Just three old men in a corner drinking bottles of nut brown ale. This will not do. Fran O'Brien phoned to ask how the weekend went. Ally went to the bank and the shops until 3. Jan, the village tart, was leaning on the bar asking the advice of a retired policeman on the subject of her son wetting the bed at 13. I'd be wetting my bed at 28 if Jan was my mother. Two couples came from Tadcaster to view the pub. Mr & Mrs Mott and Mrs & Mrs Devlin (?). The first couple didn't stay ten minutes, but the second stood at the bar all evening. They have been with Ben Truman's brewery for 6 years in the City of London and now want to move closer to home which is Pontefract. He is a rough diamond who blatantly asked me what fiddles I have managed to concoct. I told him I haven't 'fiddled', yet. He smiled and said I am 'green'. 'Whatever profits you make for the brewery always keep two or three hundred for yourself.' I can see Mr Devlin spending his declining years doing penal servitude. The place was busy and no staff came in until 8. Ally and I were dashing around like blue arsed flies. Ally did too much really. A ghastly, pushy, social-climbing customer named Pauline invited us to her birthday party on Saturday stressing, very loudly "I do not live on the council estate". Evidently she worked here under someone called Bedford and left under a cloud of suspicion and ridicule.

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Sunday October 2, 1983

 18th Sunday after Trinity

Why Not, Hemlington

Happy times: with Marie at the Linnie.

We took it easy this morning. Ally phoned Marie, and they said they would be here at 12:30. Sure enough they were. They sat on bar stools at the bar surveying the damage and joking in true Barnes style. They do not want us to be down-hearted. Roy laughed about the burglar alarm. Sank a few pints. They will help us escape to Katie's christening by sending Mike over to set our alarms and lock up. We are entitled, Roy says, to a few hours of freedom, which is cheering. I thought he might say that after recent atrocities we she should stay here keeping guard on the premises. They left at 1:30. A new barmaid, Sheila, who works in a bank, walked out at 2 and then phoned to say she won't be coming back. Phoned our Mums who are both worried about the violence and ask us to take care. In the afternoon I slept for an hour and woke feeling horrible. Looking in the mirror my eyes are bloodshot and puffed. Staggered around all evening yawning. Ally was banished upstairs at the dangerous hour of 10:30pm and I rid the place of drunken louts quite unaided. The girls are obviously terrified of asking anyone to drink up. We sat in our 'office' into the small hours counting our tills. My maths, always poor, has improved daily.

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Saturday October 1, 1983

 Why Not, Hemlington

Resign? Never.

October. Ally phoned the Linthorpe to tell Marie of our latest fracas. They are coming to see us tomorrow. Blustery, autumnal. Bernadette Low, the little mouse-like barmaid phoned to say she will not be coming in again. That's all right with me. Ally, jubilant, interviewed an 18 year-old athlete who answers to Clive. He starts on Tuesday. The nights grow dark early. Real tea and crumpet weather. I do so enjoy the changing seasons. Inspector Dale and Det Sgt Potts called in for a swift 12 pints of lager. Nicky Potts reassured me and asked me not to give my notice to Sam Smith's just yet. It had never crossed my mind to do so. It was deathly quiet in both bars. The ghouls have gone and we are now alone. The burglar alarm sounded at regular intervals throughout the night.

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Friday September 30, 1983

 Why Not, Hemlington

I forgot to say but Lynn phoned on Wednesday afternoon and asked Ally to be Katie's godmother. We are very pleased. Ally was expecting such a call when Frances was born . The identity of the godfather or godfathers is a mystery. I expect John will fill the role. 'Clemmie' is going to have at least six. 

Came down at 8 and cleared the debris from last night's riot. The cleaners took it all in their stride, but we are told that nothing quite as violent has ever occurred previously. Francis O'Brien came and looked concerned. He estimates the damage at £650 (or Bob Walker does) which seems steep to me, but I expect they want to clobber the thugs with everything. A busy night. The place was full of ghouls all assessing the damage and talking about last night. Hemlington people are a special breed. I fear for Ally's safety and want her well away from Cleveland by Christmas. Christmas at the Why Not would be pure hell. JPH is 7 today.

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Thursday September 29, 1983

 Why Not, Hemlington

Hideous. At 10:30pm a gang of maniacs refused to quit the premises and hurled chairs, pictures, mirrors, brass wall lamps, &c at the bar behind which Ally, Bernie and I were standing. It was a close shave. The gang could not be controlled or calmed and Ally made an emergency call to the police who arrived later to find us quivering deep in broken glass. Ally was so calm. I do admire the way she handles the situation. Francis O'Brien was phoned and he says: "Clear up the mess and be open for trading at 11am ..." Mercenary bastard. The apologetic police (the same boys in blue who came last week) locked up the mob, all of whom were well known to the locals. I made yet another statement and we went up to bed exhausted and limp. We shall never be defeated.

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Wednesday September 28, 1983

 Why Not, Middlesbrough

Ally.

A ___ gent came and looked at our damaged glass washer and told us it will cost £188 to fix. We went to Thornaby and banked bags of money, bought a newspaper and bars of chocolate. Ally continues to feel sick before breakfast and sits in bed earting digestive biscuits. Margaret Staveley (sic), a snooty barmaid, handed in her resignation and left. She said goodbye to me and swept past Ally. Ally says she's never been 'hated' before and cannot understand this new dimension to our lives. Bosses are always hated though, aren't they? ________.

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Tuesday September 27, 1983

'Mandy' at the Why Not.

 Why Not, Middlesbrough

Sunshine. Dad helped me put all the wooden tables from the garden up onto the flat roof. Some five year-old budding hooligans had piled them up to resemble a bonfire, so I thought it was time to act. I got up early to 'bottle up' and we had breakfast with Mum & Dad later. Weetabix seems to be the thing. We sat round a tiny table brought up from the bar. Whilst we worked downstairs Mum and Dad cleaned the flat and stuffed a chicken for lunch which we all lunched on at 3, after closing. Dad spent some time cleaning out the deep fat fryers. He enjoys getting messy. Chatted to the man who delivered the crisps. He went on at length about the different flavours. At 5 a couple came to inspect the place, sent by Francis O'Brien. No tattoos and no wedding rings - they'll never do. At 7 F. O'B arrived in person and we gave him a list of queries. His suits always look very Savile Row. He told us that an appointment has been offered both here and at the Master Cooper, but the change over, if accepted, is in the air. We'll certainly be here until mid-November. Our baby is due in 100 days.

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Monday September 26, 1983

 Why Not, Middlesbrough

Sunshine. A phone call from Horton. They'll be here this afternoon. Excitement. In the bar the boring Tommy, a sad figure, told me that he only has two years to live, and here he is in Hemlington drinking a half pint of Sam Smith's beer. I'd be off seeing the world. We expected Mum and Dad to arrive while the pub was open but they didn't land until 4. We sat in the bar eating sandwiches for an hour. Mum looked tired. She told us that my cousin Stephen Myers, 18, is marrying his 17 year-old girlfriend, who has a bun in the oven. _______. We had a sort of semi night off and sat in the lounge bar. We didn't tell the bar staff just who they are and they suspect they have been sent by the brewery to sus out the place. We sat with just one drink after getting rid of the mob, but we all looked jaded and went upstairs. We did the tills sitting at the table.

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Sunday September 25, 1983

Ally: The Why Not.

 17th Sunday after Trinity

Why Not, Hemlington

Telephone is hot. We phoned our mothers, sisters, brothers and cousins. Mum is well, but Papa has had a bad week with his stomach. Could it be an ulcer? They are coming up to see us in the week. Bessie goes to Guernsey and Jersey tomorrow and is staying at the Duke of Richmond hotel. John, the birthday boy, wasn't at home and neither was Lynn. Sue was bright and cheerful and Christopher gurgled. Peter's car is still off the road. Phoned Karen. Hayley is refusing to breast feed apparently. Phoned Dave G and he wasn't in. Spoke to Lily who asked us about our tills. She is a good woman. 

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Saturday September 24, 1983

 Why Not, Hemlington

Wet day. Green phlegm continues. They do say hat working in a pub with the filthy atmosphere therein it's the equivalent of smoking twenty cigarettes a day. What a diabolical thought. One day I would like to see the smoking of tobacco abolished. Margaret McMahon worked with me all afternoon. They all seem to be called McMahon in Middlesbrough. It's a big RC area. Tonight we went to the Linthorpe at midnight, setting our burglar alarm and tootling off in Mandy. Marie was in bed, but the mob was preparing to go on to a party at John McCutcheon's. The majority left in taxis and we took a pissed Roy in our car. He didn't wear a set belt and sat up front mumbling and swilling a gin and bitter lemon concoction from a bottle. Such a character. The party was smoky and dull but a pleasant change. Lesbians everywhere. Big buxom girls. We stood with Rose and Ian and discussed the Rolling Stones and the clientel of the Why Not. We left at 2.

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Friday September 23, 1983

 Why Not, Hemlington

I have thick green phlegm and feel awful. Catarrh. I went about like a consumptive. We went early to Thornaby and to the bank. I bought John a birthday card. He's 27 on Sunday. We despatched the card containing a fiver. Went to the post office. Couldn't find a Daily Telegraph and bought the Daily Mail. The Liberals are now at one another's throats. It's such a joy to see Ally at the wheel of Mandy. Today is Lily Glynn's birthday. I must ring David to let him know how we are doing. Do we take more cash than the Hollywood? John is going into business with a friend, Steve. Will it end in disaster?

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Thursday September 22, 1983

 Full Moon

Why Not, Hemlington

Takings: Lounge £267.61 / Bar £230.98

Marie and Mags came to see us last night and stood at the bar drinking large Bacardis and vodka to boost our takings. Inspector Dale and some of his colleagues called in for a pint or two. He was as nice as pie, and not at all vicious. Ally went to see a Dr Ruffett in Middlesbrough, and he gave her a clean bill of health. She now weighs 8st 12lb. Her blood pressure is spot on. A Hell's Angel in the bar has named his baby son Gary. Why do such a terrible thing? Sir Harold Wilson's peerage has been gazetted as Baron Wilson of Rievaulx. I was hoping he's been Earl Wilson of Scilly. Ally bought the local newspaper today. Thet give houses away up here.

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