Saturday December 3, 1983

 Red Lion, Thornton Road, Four Lane Ends, Bradford 8

Bright and sunny but we didn't get chance to go out and wallow in the autumn sunshine. One cannot be a fresh air fiend in this game. However, I am looking forward to scaling Pen-y-ghent with Papa. I have been dreaming about rats or mice. What can this mean in my subconscious? A clever pyschologist has published a book saying that to dream of a roller skating bishop signifies ones inner desire to campaign for the ordaination of women priests. I went to buy coal from the guy next door. The young salesman looks like Boy George. Ally wearing her now tight pink nightie made porridge. _______. Saturday actually feels like a Saturday at the Red Lion. Ally points out that the customers actually treat it like a pub and not like a second home as they did in Hemlington. The pub (here) is set to be demolished in 1986 when the traffic lights outside are to make way for a massive roundabout. So sad. Sam Smiths have chosen a new site close by but new pubs are hateful and lacking in character. A quiet night. Jean and Rita worked from 8 and so I had an hour upstairs. Ally sneaked home this evening to collect some cash from the 'Clemmie Fund' which we are going to bag and bank. In April we had £60.16. Susan phoned and asked if we can pick them up from Pamela's tomorrow. Rebecca is being christened and we can see them all after the ceremonial. I argued with a youth who was trying to buy some under age girls lager. The were given Coca Cola but I was far from happy. Upstairs at 12 after messing with the till that was mangling the till roll. 

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Friday December 2, 1983

 Red Lion, Thornton Road, Four Lane Ends, Bradford 8

I got up at 6:45 to prepare the cellar for the draymen who can arrive at any time between 7am and noon. Felt tetchy because the newsagent wouldn't give me a Daily Telegraph and instead I came away with a boring Daily Mail. Bought milk at the Co-op next door to make Ally's breakfast but the draymen arrived and we didn't eat until 10:30. A pleasant lunchtime. The afternoons here are such a relief after the hideous Why Not. How can anyone successfully manage that place? I think Tim told us that the London couple had backed out. Good old Bradford people take a lot of beating. Good, honest, hard working Yorkshire folk. Ally and I went to the bank (it's near the university and a stones throw from the place where Sutcliffe murdered Barbara Leach). The cashier is called P.F.N. Bruntlett. (Just thought I'd record his name for posterity). At 3:30 we made a quick visit to our home. Letters await us from the bank, something to do with our tax relief on our home loan repayments. We currently pay £115 a month and this could drop to £85 in April. Phoned Susie and invited ourselves over there on Friday. This evening I worked 5:30 - 11:30. The customers take a long time quitting the place. Sheryl and Rita say it's been a quiet night when in fact the takings are better than any other Friday in months. Chris Wills is very much an absentee landlord. Elaine spends all her time playing the organ. 

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Thursday December 1, 1983

 Red Lion, Thornton Road, Four Lane Ends, Bradford 8

I had a headache but by no means a bad one. I lingered in bed until 10 ignoring my publican responsibilities. Ally was up early to visit Dr Duck, who says our baby is 'cheeky' for lying with his hand sticking out and making Ally's bump look very irregular. After my lengthy stay abed I felt recuperated and suffered no further ill effects from last night. Ally has been very good about it. I cannot have been too bad as I can remember everything perfectly. I worked this evening with Jean, who is efficient. Nothing worth recording took place. Later we had cheese on toast in bed watching baby turning and kicking. Is the baby a boy? Is violent activity associated with males? I do not think people believe us when we say we are not bothered whether we have a boy or a girl. We just wish for a healthy child.

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Wednesday November 30, 1983

 St Andrew's Day

The Red Lion, Thornton Road, Four Lane Ends, Bradford 8

I woke up feeling grotty and 'hungover' though not a drop of alcohol passed my lips last night. I felt weary this morning and in need of fresh air. Jean and Enid worked from 11 and Ally and I were free to take a day off. Before leaving I sliced off the end of my thumb with a kitchen knife while slicing a lemon. Heavily bandaged I made good my escape from the Red Lion to ourcottage just a few mile away. The white 'moses' basket stands in splendid isolation awaiting the arrival of its tiny occupant. We went into town where Ally tried on a series of hideous tent-like frocks, like an 18 stone black and gold fairy, to a floral 'Tessie O'Shea'. Poor pet was unsure about the black and grey creation for tonight but decides it is the better option. To calm ourselves we went to lunch at Giuseppi's Backyard. £8 on pizza, lasagne, and sticky chocolate fudge cake. Felt much better afterwards. We phoned our mums. Both well, happy and contented. We went at 6:30 to the Buckle's Inn at Askham Richard for the brewery Yuletide 'knees up'. Had champers and brandy (pre-prandial), with Roy, Marie, Tim, various trainees, Elaine & Chris Wills. She looked pale and bloated although her baby isn't due until April 1. At dinner we were on Colin Black's table and we sat next to a Barnsley couple now at Redcar. Rob and Cath (ex Green Dragon, Stockton), sat on the other side, and are now at the Butcher's Arms, Pudsey. Snobby. Roast beef and Yorkshire pudding. Lashings of wine. I was pissed. Didn't see Roy and Marie until the end. He wasn't his usual self. He was 'well oiled' though I suspect Marie had given him a serious talking to. He had given up heavy spirits for dry martinis. I drank brandy and Babycham and clung to a box of cherry liqueur chocolates. David Tyne chatted with Ally and attempted to buy her a drink, but was foiled when I got to the bar ahead of him, unfortunately. We left at a disgusting late hour passing Roy dancing with Ronnie Simpson in the lounge. A forgotten drive home.

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Tuesday November 29, 1983

 Red Lion, Thornton Road, Four Lane Ends, Bradford 8

Red Lion, Four Lane Ends.

The boring NGA strike has brought about a rush on Daily Telegraph sales, and so they had all sold out when I finally got to the newsagent. Instead I bought a thin and dismal YP. Prince Edward has appeared in a play at Cambridge and was a success. He will be Duke of Cambridge one day - I hope. Busy lunch. Ally went to 'mothercraft' classes at Odsal where they have all the pregnant ladies laying on the floor and sleeping for ten minutes. Poor Ally wanted to wee and was laid with crossed legs and an agonised expression. She watched a film on breast feeding and had a lesson in breathing during labour. One should always breathe from the diaphragm, and not the nose of course. __________. Ally tired. She slept on the settee. I did no work after 8. It is tradition for the landlord of this establishment to go out at 8pm and escort an elderly and apparently blind widow across the road for her nightly gil of 'Four X' mild. Poor old Mary, for that is her name, was hit by a car in Morecambe while eyeing a joint of beef in a butchers' shop window. I went upstairs to my sleeping beauty and watched a docuemtnary on Prince Johannes von Thurn und Taxis, a West German aristocrat in Robert Lacey's TV series.

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Monday November 28, 1983

 5, Club Street, Lidget Green, Bradford

Red Lion, Thornton Rd, Bradford 8.

Sunshine. Up at dawn and wallowed in hot baths. Nervous. A change of pub is like changing to a new planet because they are all like individual worlds once one is inside. Ally dropped me off at the pub at 9:20 and I went in to see Chris, Elaine and Les Gledhill, who didn't stay long and left after the niceties. I stood at the bar with a drink for much of the afternoon because they had made sure that plenty of staff would be working on change-over day. Chris & Elaine left at 1 and I was left holding the fort. The barmaids are pleasant and seem very reliable. Enid, small, middle-aged and blond with a loud giggle, and Jean Boswell, known as 'Bossy', small, fat, and domineering, but pleasant with it. The cook, Sheryl, thinks she's Delia Smith and fancies herself. Ally came at 2 and we had lunch together. I worked from 5:30 to 8 without staff. It was a pool match night from 8 and I was joined by Rita. Some of the lads wanted to start a game of pool at 11 and I put my foot down and refused to allow it. One pissed individual called me all the names under the sun, but left peaceably. Ally was upstairs watching the 'colour' TV.

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Sunday November 27, 1983

 Advent Sunday

5, Club Street, Lidget Green, Bradford 8

Ally & Mandy.

Ally has bought an advent calendar which she has been gleefully waiting to open. You know, it's one with the little doors which you open daily up until Christmas. A bright and crisp start. Ally went out in her red dungarees and wellies to wash the dirty Mandy Metro. The neighbours all came out to greet us on our return. Poor Phyllis at the end of the street was washing her windows. Norman had a stroke yesterday and has been rendered speechless. Mary tells us that our new next door neighbours are Ukrainians. Eastern bloc types dwelling in Britt Greenwood's old residence doesn't seem right. At one we went to the Red Lion at Four Lane Ends. Chris and Elaine came down (for they were upstairs and always take Sundays off) and we sat until after 4 going over the details and all the ins and outs. Most of the customers look like geriatrics and incapable of serious violence. Chris cleaned his beer lines and Elaine chatted away to Ally, who was fagged out and fading fast. Home in the darkness of the early evening to Club Street. Feet up in front of the TV. 'Jane Eyre' again. We went to the Chinese take-away near the Fire Brigade pub. I had prawn sweet and sour and Ally a prawn curry. To bed. The prospect of two weeks at the Red Lion is not harrowing.

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Saturday November 26, 1983

Coleford, Gloucestershire

Ally & Matthew.

Woke up early for breakfast with Matthew, who smashed his crockery, and poured his juice on Tara, the dog. An electrician was working in the house and the electricity was on and off all morning. Ally munched her way through a tin of Danish biscuits. After breakfast of eggs and bacon we went to the local pub and sat in the entrance hall (because of Matthew) and had a couple of drinks. Everyone knows Graham. He must have an irresistible back because everybody pats him on it. After 2 we left Gloucestershire . Following Graham's map we were home by our fireside in 4 hours or so. Long, boring motorways. I walked to the fish and chip shop in drizzle and came back with fish and curry sauce. We lay in the dark watching TV and looking at our correspondence - bills, bills, bills. To bed with King Richard III and his hunchback.

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