Saturday November 5, 1983

 Sunshine and fun. We went out as soon it was decently possible leaving the revolting Margaret McMahon and went to Yarm to look at the shops. Looking at tiny 'moses' baskets for Tubby. I cannot quite believe it all. We went into the Black Bull looking for food but they did none and so we settled for fish and chips which we ate in the street. We went back to the Why Not for 2. It is a smoke filled den of misery, desolation and despair. Margaret was scurrying between bars and no doubt they have all been stealing the beer whilst we were away. Ally went upstairs and I went into the bar. Margaret's spectacles get thicker. At 6 o'clock a couple came in from York where they work for Bass to inspect. She was called Daphne and I forget his name. They bought me lots of beer, and spent three hours with us. We went all out to sell the place and think they might have fallen for it. I cringed when Daphne spoke of making steak dinners and serving a la carte seafood platters in the lounge. Hopeless. They left at 9 and Ally went up to bed. It was all too much for her. She hated Daphne. The new incumbents of the Master Cooper came in for a quick one. She is the theatrical character who was here the night Chukka was barred out. I'm pissed. Fireworks in the lounge. Shandy shagged Dave the baker and Geoff Meaney. To bed.

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Friday November 4, 1983

 New Moon

Why Not, Hemlington

I got up expecting a quiet morning, which I suppose is always a fatal thing to do. I was soaking in the bath as Ally made breakfast when the phone rang. It was Fran O'Brien who told me that my protection order has expired and that I should go to court today and renew it. Mrs Lea is on her way to us with the necessary papers. Panic. We rushed around round scalded hens. Ally is no good when hurried. Little Donna (Lea) arrived and she took me to Middlesbrough Court collecting Tim from the Master Cooper on the way. He was in a similar predicament. F.O'B had phoned again in a panic telling us not to sell any ale until the (protection) order is renewed, and so Ally went gleefully around the pub ejecting the OAPs from the lounge. 

We had a long wait in the magistrates' court watching skinheads being led around in chains. I'd have them all flogged were I on the bench. Donna Lea, oblivious to everything, sat reading Agatha Christie's 'Mystery of the Blue Train'. We were in and out of court room 6 and had our protection orders by 1:30 or 2. Tim looked like a vagrant, his clothes full of holes. The bespectacled magistrate frowned as Tim took the oath. He expects he'll be coming to the Why Not after our departure and looked very glum. Who wouldn't? Mrs Lea drove me home and had a glass of wine in the deserted lounge. The pub slowly filled with people asking why we are so very late. We showed a dull and obviously disturbed couple over the place and they went away never to be seen again. Uneventful evening. We have an hilarious letter from Sarah Collis. I can just picture her writing it. We sat in bed sniggering at her vitriolic onslaughts. The poor old YP is losing it's good people. Sarah says Stephanie is now at the Daily Mail in London, commuting from Leathley!

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Thursday November 3, 1983

 Why Not, Hemlington

Yasser Arafat.

Graham is twenty eight today. Heavy rain and a slight fog. We went for a drive around Cleveland in search of a Daily Telegraph. Bought one in Marton, a place famed as the birthplace of Capt James Cook, who discovered America in the 1490s. Or was that the Cabot brothers? My knowledge of history isn't what it was. Mum phoned. Sue has seen Dr Glass and he is happy at the fact that she is once again with child. She saw the infant on the scan machine (why hasn't Ally had similar?) The baby is due at the end of May or early in June. A man came and put coat hooks in our cupboard. We ate roast lamb and flat Yorkshire puddings. It was my fault. I made too sloppy a mixture. A quiet night. No feeling of impending doom and no riot. Thursdays are usually horrible. It's reminiscent of the Middle East and I 'm Yasser Arafat. I'm even beginning to look like him. I seldom shave and have that war torn look about me. Ally is precious. She sat upstairs with her magazines.

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Wednesday November 2, 1983

 The Why Not, Hemlington

We went to the Linthorpe which was packed and seething (sic) for lunch. Marie gave us dismal pork chops. We sat with them in the dining room and they told us tales of the Duncan in Leeds, I think to cheer us up. Not that we are depressed in any way. Marie is full of cold. We were joined by a policeman who looked like the Invisible Man from that old 1940s film. He had a face completely bandaged. Roy joked about my hair which is getting longer. I do have hair dark, rich and glossy. It's a Rhodes characteristic. My great-grandfather John Rhodes was similarly blessed. Back to the Why Not after 2. Her Majesty unveiled a statue of Earl Mountbatten  in London today. Saw it on the news. His murder was the crime of the century.

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Tuesday November 1, 1983

 The Why Not, Hemlington

Autumnal. The Pakistani gentleman came again to battle with our glass washing machine. He spent three hours in the lounge but did nothing. If he was at home doing this I feel sure that General Zia would have him flogged. Ally went out and bought those expensive fish pieces in plastic bags which we ate hurriedly at 5:30, because we expected the chief to come in at any moment, but in fact they didn't walk in until 8 o'clock. David Tyne arrived with Les Gledhill and a woman, Donna Lea, a lady area manager. We stood at the end of the bar and had a few drinks. Immediately we learn that the Motts have decided not to come here after all , but Tyne insists that we will not have to stay any longer than one extra week. The boss says that we will have to take some unpaid leave but they are going to send us to the Red Lion in Bradford where the Wills people are in need of a holiday. I am going to be used as flying day relief in the Bradford area. We think this is very good of them. No mention was made of F.O'B and Gledhill seems to take a great interest in us. Tyne's 86 year-old dad was a Martin's Bank manager, as Frank was, and he and Ally chatted about this. People are always obsessed about Ally. I am always cast aside at these 'interviews'. We were told to send our money for tickets for the dinner on the 30th and they went away leaving us happy and confident of a future in the company. Our only sadness is that we do not leave here on Nov 7.

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Monday October 31, 1983

 Bank Holiday in Rep. of Ireland - Hallowe'en

The Why Not, Hemlington

Gledhill phoned to say that he and Mr Tyne are coming to see us tomorrow evening. Why Gledhill? Ally asked where Fran O'Brien is and he says the little toad is in Manchester. Has F.O'B washed his hands of us? We are both very tired and done in. We were having cocoa at midnight and Roy phoned to ask if we are going to the Linthorpe Halloween supper. I say no because Ally is white and positively exhausted. It was good of Roy to ring. He has taken such an interest in us. We owe them so much. To bed.

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Sunday October 30, 1983

 22nd Sunday after Trinity

The Why Not, Hemlington

Hungover but determined to ignore the ailment. I went to 'bottle up' at sunrise with eyes a rustic hue. John similarly pink eyed. A huge fried breakfast was followed by 2 hours of work. Sundays are always good, almost relaxed. Janette laughed at Jan, the village tart, and we sat in the bay window blinking in the sunlight. Pat, the battered wife was in and we worried expecting the arrival of the battering husband, Mick. Slept in the afternoon and ignored the TV. The Jane Eyre series is amateurish and unworthy of the BBC. Busy night.

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Saturday October 29, 1983

The Why Not, Hemlington

 Sunshine. Shortly after opening in walked my long lost cousin Brian Myers and his wife Valerie, who live nearby at Great Ayton. I called John and Janette down from upstairs and we all stood chatting for an hour. Ally and I had to work and so we couldn't devote ourselves entirely to our kinfolk. At 3:30 we all went to town and Janette, generous as ever, bought us all a ghastly meal in the Cleveland Centre. The pizzas were like cardboard soaked in tomato puree. To the Linthorpe after closing. We'd had a tense evening at the Why Not. The mob who last smashed up the place appeared and I thought my days were numbered, but they went as soon as I called the police. Pissed at the Linthorpe. Roy groped Janette. Mags and I did a high wire act singing Nat King Cole. Home and to bed at 5am.

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Friday October 28, 1983

Janette.

 Sunny. The return of the stocktaker. Ron, the scruff, came at 8:30. Hes says he drove from Tadcaster in half an hour. He spent a few hours with us and then went to do the Eston Hotel returning at 1pm to conclude. His microcomputer, which adds the lot up on site, was on the blink but before he left at 3 he said we probably have a slight surplus. A great relief. Ally feels down in the dumps and now wants to go home. Our stay here is now a strain for her. She brightened at the arrival of Frank and Barbara Makin with Fiona, who stayed a couple of hours in a corner listening to the cursing, the effing and blinding. Barbara was most concerned and commented how brave we must be. Our little bridesmaid is now a great, big, strapping woman wearing eye make-up. Doesn't time fly? Maurice came in wearing the full Mackenzie tartan gear and bored the pants off everyone. Frank seemed to know more about Scotland. Ally went off to Thornaby after Frank and Barbara's departure (they went to Stainton for lunch) and I stood supervising the hideous ______, who no doubt has her hand in the till at every available opportunity. She has a six year-old son, Robert, who wears an earring. This evening Janette phoned to say thy wanted to come up and sure enough they walked in at 9 o'clock. We sat after time in the empty lounge and sipped exotic drinks at £3 a round. ___________. They recently went back to Lochans and visited the children at Corner House Cottage. John says JPH is like me, and Catherine like her mother, but that Hannah is the image of our dear Papa. Maria now has long, permed hair and works in an asylum. Janette asked to see the wedding album. Libby is to marry a man with a degree from Shrewsbury. To bed exhausted at 1am.

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Thursday October 27, 1983

 The Why Not, Hemlington

Merde alors, what a place. Thursday evening is here once again and the usual 'electric' atmosphere hangs over the place. Very sinister. A man called Maurice Mackenzie has asked me to join the freemasons. He says he shook hands with the Queen at Middlesbrough Railway station when she was only a girl. Taffy says Maurice is a 'Walter Mitty'. You name it and he's done it. Tommy Harker says Maurice isn't really a Scot and that he's really one Maurice Pepper, who changed his name by deed poll, and went out and bought the full Scottish national gear for £20. Last year he was arrested for 'flashing' at schoolgirls. Tommy, clearly, is vindictive. Ally, fed up with Maurice, went upstairs after 10, after a few pineapple drinks. Tommy had been reading her palm and told her that she would only ever have one child, a daughter. Silly old fool. The staff are so miserable, and the atmosphere far from jovial.  Roll on November 7.

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Wednesday October 26, 1983

 The Why Not, Hemlington

Hungover. A dreadful lapse on my part ________.

Mum and Dad were up at 9. We went to the bank at Thornaby leaving them reading yesterdays newspapers and basking in the morning sun which floods through the upper bay window. The Americans have invaded Grenada, where the Marxist PM was recently done in. Grenada is a sovereign state in the Commonwealth and HM is head of state and because of this the Queen has been dragged into the furore. Another blow for Mrs T and her team. Sir Geoffrey Howe strikes me as being something of a lightweight. Ronald Reagan has really 'muckied his ticket'. The ghastly Margaret MacMahon came in. We kissed Mum and Dad goodbye and off they went to Guiseley to see Sue and Lynn. We will go to Horton next month when our tenure here expires. Now that we know we are leaving it cannot come soon enough for either of us. The very thought of Christmas at the Why Not sends paroxysms of horror through my being. I'd sooner spend Christmas in Beirut or Kabul. Mum and Dad went off after 11. I am now sitting watching the builders at work on the Barratt's housing estate across the road. When will all this useless building cease? Surely Britain has enough houses without having to fill up all the remaining green fields? __________. Goodnight.

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