Sunday November 18, 1984

 Waltergarth, Station Rd, Horton-in-Ribblesdale

22nd Sunday after Trinity

Waltergarth.

John and Janette were up at the crack of dawn to go to Guiseley to collect JPH and Catherine. They are just going to go back to the flat to watch videos. Dear me, the life of the modern child. We went to see Mama in her feminine bedroom, which she herself decorated. Mum's constantly changing hue is a phenomenon. Bright orange eyes, &c. Samuel had a few belly laughs which made everyone dissolve. We took our son out in his pushchair and wheeled him around the churchyard. Ally was heavily pregnant on our last visit to this bleak, ancient burial ground. Samuel whimpered for his luncheon and so we made our way back to Waltergarth. After salad sandwiches we packed and left at about 4 o'clock. Dad looked particularly touched on saying goodbye to Samuel and afterwards Mum said he sat in silence for hours. No doubt in a state of shock. On to Lynn's. Dave was decorating his erection. The lad is obsessed with dark, wood panelling. Lynn was bathing Frances and Katie and then came down for a coffee. We hadn't seen the Bakers for seven weeks. __________. Back to Club Street. Samuel was exhausted and we didn't get him into bed until 9. Well, he is on holiday. We dined on fish in boil in the bags. Our holiday is almost over.

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Saturday November 17, 1984

 Waltergarth, Station Rd, Horton

A damp and dismal day. Almost gruesome, in fact. I arrived home last night with a devastating hangover and found no solace in the night. Samuel was awake bright and early and I went to retrieve him from his distant bedroom. He settled down in bed with us for an hour or two but by breakfast time his patience was wearing a little thin and Ally got up , God Bless her, and I remained unconscious until 11am. It was the first time I have had a 'lie in' since Samuel joined the family. John and Janette could be heard munching on breakfast cereal. Later Mum and Dad lay claim to Samuel again. It was damp and raining without, much too inclement to subject our child to the elements. John and Janette took us in their car to Malham. For some reason Janette had the idea that Malham is a major tourist resort and on driving into the hamlet she sat swearing, in a lady-like fashion, at the sight of three broken-down cottages surrounded in a swirling mist, and the inevitable gift shop. We found refuge in the Buck Inn, which was dead. Just one other customer, an exhausted hiker, and Tchaikovsky blasting out on the piped music system. We ate a disappointing lunch. Ridiculously over-priced. I drank nothing but fruit juice. Ally felt sickly in the back seat of John's car. She is a poor traveller when not at the wheel. A giggle tonight. We all stayed in and all were in high spirits. Janette has something of a persecution complex and doesn't take kindly to us sticking our tongues out at her when her back is turned. Mum was chirpy.

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Friday November 16, 1984

 Waltergarth, &c.

Mum spent the morning in bed and wasn't up to doing much and so we went into Settle and purchased a shirt for Dad's birthday, and I bought a pair of shoes. At 1:30 we fell into the Talbot Inn (Fred's old pub)recently re-opened after a £75,000 refit. Very impressed and so we remained until 3. Half pissed I was. Back to Horton for afternoon tea and 'Crackerjack' - a favourite of Mum and Dad's. Samuel rarely takes notice of the TV, but likes the loud music at the start of the BBC news and the Breakfast TV jingle. Apparently we had liver and onions for dinner which I do not remember eating. John & Janette came at 6:30 and at 8 we went back to the Talbot with them but the place was too crowded, busy with the curious townsfolk. Whilst here I developed a hangover and wasn't at my best. Back for 11:30 where I squabbled with Dad about the hypocrisy of the Salvation Army collecting money in pubs. All very silly.

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Thursday November 15, 1984

 Waltergarth, Station Rd, Horton-in-Ribblesdale

Mum and Dad are so very good to us. After breakfast we decided to go conclude our Christmas shopping in Skipton and they volunteered to have Samuel for a few hours. We wanted to buy them a print of a watercolour, with a Dales-type of scene, and for about £40, but Skipton proved fruitless. The one art gallery had nothing under £200. Two hours trailing around the shops was enough and so we came back to Settle and did the same. For our labours we returned home with two newspapers, a 'Private Eye' and a film for the camera. Samuel was exceptionally good and did not miss us. He allowed Mum to feed him, change him and play with him, and his eyes gleamed with delight at the sight of his old, dotty grandad. 

News in brief: Prince Henry is to be baptised at St George's Chapel, Windsor on December 21. St George's hasn't seen a princely baptism since Prince Leopold of Battenberg's christening in 1889. Apparently, the baby is to be dipped in the King Henry VII chapel, his namesake. Godparents are Prince Andrew, Lady Sarah Armstrong-Jones, Bryan Organ the artist, Lady Vestey, wife of the 'billionaire butcher' Lord Vestey, Gerald Ward, a kinsman of the Earl of Dudley and husband (or ex) of Rosalind Ward, rumoured in the 70s to be a flame of the P of W, and Carolyn Bartholomew, nee Pride, Diana's loyal flatmate. None of the Spencer family are asked, yet again. Why Bryan Organ? I didn't realise that the Waleses mixed with artists. The Princess (of Wales) launched her first ship today, aptly named the Royal Princess. 

Out tonight to the hamlet of Helwith Bridge, and a pub where the slovenly landlord wore carpet slippers, no socks, and was a victim to flatulence, breaking wind everywhere.  Then to a better pub at Stainforth and finally back to the Crown at Horton. We giggled at the local accent.

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Wednesday November 14, 1984

 Waltergarth, Station Rd, Horton-in-Ribblesdale

We got up feeling daring and frivolous today and decided to visit Morecambe on Sea, the coastal town that is the butt of endless cruel jokes and besmirchment. We were surprised that Mum was up to it but we decided that the bracing sea air would be a tonic. At least it didn't rain. Dad took the scenic route, up hill and down dale and went straight to Heysham cooing at the ocean as we drove past but not stopping until  we reached the (blank) inn. The yellow peril was despatched inside as a forerunner to see if they would allow Samuel inside whilst we lunched. All was well. We sat feasting in a corner and Samuel had something cold and sticky from a jar. Dad is a great entertainer and Samuel was bedazzled. Then we walked on the miserable concrete promenade and stopped at a shop to buy a windscreen wiper for ailing Mandy. Mum was cold and tired and we ventured back to the car and home. I remember little of Morecambe though Mum says we stayed here when I was a child. Very cold. back home for tea. Later Ally and I walked to the Crown for the last hour but it was darts and dominos night and very uninspiring. We sat watching the solitary barmaid at work. 

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Tuesday November 13, 1984

 Waltergarth, Station Rd, Horton-in-Ribblesdale

Mum stayed in the precincts of Waltergarth leaving Papa to take us to Settle on a shopping expedition. It was of course Settle market day. Mum is very self-conscious about her colour and thinks that Settle is not yet ready for her yellow skin. She is far too soft about illness and doctors. She phoned her quack today for results of a blood test and he told her bugger all, and she has fretted about what he might say for days. It's cruel of them. I have the blackest fears. I am illogical and pessimistic. I blame the twentieth century and the pressures that modern times have imposed on us simpletons. Two hundred years ago I would have been toddling around in a ploughed field without a care in the world and not fretting about gall bladders. Collapsed by the fire tonight. Rest, perfect rest.

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Monday November 12, 1984

 5, Club Street, Lidget Green, Bradford

Veteran's Day Holiday, USA

A wet morning. We pottered about on Duckworth Lane taking money from the Provincial Building Society. Ally was tetchy because a cheque had 'bounced'. We went to Horton-in-Ribblesdale via settle taking three litres of Laski Riesling in a box and chocolates for Mummy. At Horton we were shocked by Mum's appearance. She is very yellow, even to the whites of her eyes, and much thinner. Poor oriental mummy. Dad, dotty as ever, still wearing mum's specs, and magnetic as ever to children. They all adore him. Mum says Lynn has told them that grandparents are absolutely no good for children and that they only disrupt everything that the parents have instilled in them. __________. An evening in front of the TV. Samuel has captivated them and was so jolly this afternoon. That boy will sleep anywhere.

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