Tuesday January 24, 1984

 5, Club Street, Lidget Green, Bradford

Still, deep snow. Ally prodded me at 6:30. Samuel had slept since 11:30 last night. What a good boy he is. Ally 'topped and tailed' the infant and I went down with buckets of filthy nappies to wash them and make pots of tea and biscuits. Plunged into a hot bath. Boiled eggs for breakfast. Ally came down in red dungarees and yellow shirt carrying our wide-eyed heir. They sat on the settee listening to Ella Fitzgerald. Samuel particularly enjoys 'Manhattan'. Heavily wrapped I went out into the thaw, well it certainly looks like a thaw. Everything dripping and too bright and clear for further snow. I bought a newspaper and squelched around digging out the car from its white grave. I had to borrow a spade from Mary. She talked about 1947 like old people do whenever snow is lying on the ground. 

Tubby slept in his cot, and Ally, flat out on the floor, slept. I watched an awful 1940s film. Baby woke and I nursed him. I find his face quite fascinating. I phoned Dave Glynn. He laughed at the name Sam. 

We had chicken stew at 5:30. Dumplings - the lot. The TV was diabolical and for some reason we lost Channel 4. Must be the weather. Ally phoned David Watts who was just back from visiting Jean and baby Hannah. They had a real old heart to heart which isn't usually Ally's style.

Ally was tired tonight. We went up to bed at 11. This is Samuel's time to let rip. We messed with him until after 12. I feel shattered too. This father lark isn't all pipe and slippers and mint imperials. Dear me, no. According to 'today's birthdays' in the D.Telegraph Lord Spencer was 60 yesterday, and again today. In fact the earl's birthday is today.

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Monday January 23, 1984

 5, Club Street, Lidget Green, Bradford

The baby whimpered at 4:30 and our early morning ritual was thrown into operation. Samuel is like a hamster with brown beady eyes and pink sagging cheeks. I can see that he is filling out already and has achieved this with nothing but his mother's milk. You must be getting sick of this constant baby banter. 

We did not eat until noon. I had the usual egg and bacon but Ally stuck to toast and complained about the aroma from my frying. She opened the windows even though snow is lying deep outside. I spied sherpas on Necropolis Rd. 

We signed our management agreement and copies. It's like the Treaty of Versailles, or whatever it was they signed at the end of World War 1. Wrote to Bessie and my aunt Annie in Bramley. She is my only surviving great-aunt and is 79. I battled on out for a newspaper and was knee-deep in snow. I wore the tweed flat cap I found whilst walking home from Blackpool in '78 and look like Capt Phillips, minus the sturdy beast ( I am not referring to Princess Anne either). Nothing much in the (Daily) Telegraph. Rumblings about the Queen's recent speeches sparked off by criticisms from Enoch Powell. I must admit I found the last Queen's Christmas message peculiar. Did I say so at the time? Indira Gandhi was the star attraction. I cannot identify with the so-called Commonwealth. A collection of murderous banana republics of exceedingly dubious allegiances and led, in the main, by _______ who think they are either Napoleon Bonaparte or Che Guevara. No, my Queen, stick to concentrating upon us in Bradford and forget your territories beyond the seas. They are largely awash with discontent.

Phoned the Moorhouse and said we'd go on Thursday hopefully.

News: The Earl of Warwick is deceased in Rome. Tea prices are rocketing. (Tony) Benn will get Chesterfield. Horrendous.

Chick salad at tea time. David Watts phoned at 5:35 to say Jean gave birth to a baby girl weighing 5lb 12oz at 3:20am today but that poor Jean is weak and has lost more blood than she should have. She only went into labour until 11pm last night and didn't tell David until it was too late and he missed the birth by 10 minutes. The infant is probably going to be called Hannah. Mum phoned at 7 o'clock. They are snow bound at Horton. She had a phone call last night from great-auntie Annie and told her our news. This always happen when I write. Samuel was niggly tonight and we didn't sleep until 11:30. We sat reading in bed and giggling ... like you do.

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