Thursday September 26, 1985

 South Wood Farm, Cotleigh, Devon

We left early today but still managed to go for an inspection of the farm animals. We went across country to north Devon and Woolacombe, another of Ally's childhood holiday spots. Hot. A vast yellow beach with a ribbon of blue sea miles away in the distance. Salmon and cucumber sandwiches. Seclusion. Sam and I dug a big hole in the sand and played at jumping in. The boy doesn't tolerate sand castles and demolishes them as  soon as I turn them out. Ally slept and Sam and I went into the sea. He clung to me like never before as the waves lapped against us. He was very uneasy. Later, wet and muddy, we walked to the tiny village where I bought 1lb of fillet steak costing £4.20 and a bag of frozen prawns. Well, we are on holiday. We sat on a grassy hill overlooking the bay, and Samuel slept in his pushchair. We are both semi moderately bronzed for the first time since Ios in '81. We didn't get in until after dark and Sam was exhausted. Posh dinner tonight at 10.

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Wednesday September 25, 1985

 South Wood Farm, Cotleigh

Hot again. We ventured to Torquay  which we had expected to resemble Blackpool but without the tower, but we were pleasantly surprised. Down on the beach we sat near a nice little multi-racial family. Lovely tinted babies. Samuel immediately dashes to other children and Ally and I might as well be invisible. What bores we must be. He stole a little girls bucket and rubber ring and made a general nuisance of himself. Just a white vest and genitals. Babies are so unselfconscious and beautiful. Why we have to grow up to develop the thousands of hang-ups, God knows. All part of life's twisted, wicked pattern. From Torquay we went to Teignmouth where we walked around a Co-op and paraded on the Esplanade to be attacked by wasps. Samuel, naked, assaulted a Lhasa Apso (a small hairy dog), belonging to a burly Lancashire couple. Once again we giggled a good deal. Ally has relaxed this week and it has done her a lot of good. Today John is 29. We did a lot of singing 'Happy Birthday'.

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Tuesday September 24, 1985

 South Wood Farm, Cotleigh, Devon

Duller. To Lyme Regis with a box of sandwiches which we ate in the carpark overlooking pebbles - yes pebbles - and awful beach huts. Ally in (undecipherable) form and looks beautifully tanned. Did you know that William Pitt spent his youth in Lyme Regis? We inspected the shops and bought sausages and posed for photos before an ancient cannon. It's very hilly. Like Pudsey, but with sea. We went to Charmouth afterwards, where Ally stayed as a child. She found it unchanged. It was cold and almost misty but we sat on the pebbles and ate enormous soft ice creams. Sam lapped it up. 

Prince William of Wales began his schooldays today at a kindergarten close to Kensington Palace. HRH arrived with his parents clutching a Postman Pat vacuum flask. Bless him. We saw this on the six o'clock news. We all dined on fish in plastic bags. Samuel's favourite. TV and bed. 'Lupe'.

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Monday September 23, 1985

 South Wood Farm, Cotleigh, Devon

Still hot. To Budleigh Salterton and Exmouth. The latter was sandy, and the former wasn't. At BS Ally was flat out on the pebbles. How many on the beach, I wonder? Samuel and I stoned the Cormorants and inspected geological specimens. Later, we went to the Co-op for 'Thousand Island' dressing, HP sauce and brown 'baps'. Samuel was very good minus his nappy, but I was worried throughout expecting a deluge (urine). Exmouth was sandy, as I've stated, and we played in the sea and came away wet but jolly. Home to Cotleigh passing a sign post for Powderham Castle, home for a thousand years of the Courtenays. The Earl of Devon's sister, Lady Evelyn, shook a seven on Saturday, according to the Daily Telegraph obituaries. Adrian Mole on the telly.

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Sunday September 22, 1985

Southwood Farm

 Southwood Farm, Cotleigh
, Devon

16th Sunday after Trinity

Positively tropical. We cannot believe our luck. Samuel and I went to look at the animals whilst Ally made breakfast. He loves his 'walkies'. Afterwards we drove to Sidmouth. Very sedate, pebbly and picturesque. We stripped Samuel off and played on the seashore. We ate large ice creams and paddled in the sea. Samuel succumbed to his first mouthful of sea water. The poor boy has had no experience on the sun or the sea and we are determined to make this week in Devon a good one. We sat for a long time lobbing pebbles into the sea while Ally sprawled out. Not easy laying on pebbles. Reminiscent of some ancient form of torture from the east. Drove to Beer Head. Then to Seaton. Very low here - socially I mean. Roast turkey tonight. Ally and I dressed for the occasion. The only thing missing was Santa Claus.

Samuel with the cows.

Sam on the pebbles.

The Sunday papers are full of nonsense about Princess Anne and her former personal detective. What rot they publish. No actual facts. All speculation. It all shrieks of 'Love in the Saddle', the hilarious Private Eye series from 1973.

Saturday September 21, 1985

 Coleford, Gloucestershire

We left Graham and Gill at 11am or so and drove down to Taunton. Was it the M5? Quick anyway. We went into an Asda and bought some provisions including a 10lb turkey. To Honiton, Devon, for 2pm. Hot afternoon. Four miles from Honiton we found Southwood Farm, erected in 1656. Olde Worlde charm, &c. Peace, tranquillity - blissful repose. We are housed in a wing partitioned off from the farmer Mr Williams, his wife and three children, and the noise permeates through to us, but not disturbingly so. Samuel's little face on seeing cows, horses, and dogs was a sight to behold. We went to Honiton to look at the shops and returned after 6 after phoning Dad. He says its heavy rain in Horton and he and the Harwoods were snuggling around the coal fire. We dined on lamb chops and watched tv until bedtime. You have no idea what a treat this is. Gill has given me a thriller - 'Lupe' by Gene Thompson(?), and describes it as a book about 'a ten year-old with a huge willie.' Most entertaining. We read in bed. Ally reading Dornford Yates but isn't enamoured.

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Friday September 20, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

Woke feeling awful. Gill felt the same and as soon as breakfast was consumed she announced she was going back to bed. Ally and I were left with three riotous boys and a dog on heat who decided to spew up on the 'mushroom' hall carpet. Simon is enormous. Ally is really taken with him. Gill remained abed until after 1 when we all went to Coleford and the park. Tonight a babysitter was found and we went to the White Horse Inn at Staunton. The food wasn't exceptional and a large spoilt poodle insisted on climbing up on to Ally's chair. Unhygienic. Home for brandy. Samuel had been up at 9:30 but was no bother.

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Thursday September 19, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

Jolly holidays are upon us. The stock taker Rob came in and we had a good time demolishing that Dalison chap, who apparently makes a general balls up of wherever he goes. Ron Brook came, wearing red trousers, looking like a maniacal golfer, and spent hours on the phone after bring in all his luggage. Twenty three suits and a tie rack worthy of the Duke of Windsor. Silly bugger. We left after 12. Very low key. Said goodbye to nobody. We had a stock deficit of £35 or so. We knew we would. The last stock take was £99 up and the imbecile made a cock-up then. Ally is blissfully resigned to ignoring stocks. I worry more.

Down the M5 to Coleford. I made Samuel giggle so much that he was sick all over himself just as we crossed the border into Wales. Ally was cross. I think I was holding my nose and making ridiculous noises at the time. To Mile End for 4:30. The house was very pleasantly chaotic. The children, the dogs and Gill all look well. ______. Graham came in and the two of us went to Coleford and the Angel Hotel for a few bevvies. Needless to say the Gloucestershire air took hold of me and I returned to the house quite pissed and hiccoughing. Samuel came down doing his Placido Domingo routine and Ally went upstairs to get the boy settled and didn't come back. Similarly, Graham went for a wee wee and was never seen again. Gill and I were left with a bottle of Chateau Mablethorpe. Our conversation ranged from Aids to church dogma. And so to bed.

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Wednesday September 18, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

A spate of particularly bad child murders dominate the news. __________. Phoned Dad and Marlene, but not in that order. Marlene didn't know I'd phoned last week. Debbie didn't pass on my message. Dad seemed choked, but was OK. He mentioned the anniversary of leaving the police - three years since Giovanni's and the Fox. Three years since Mum gave us all a delightful cheque. What a big generous heart. We miss her.

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Tuesday September 17, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

Leslie Gledhill came here at 9 to look at our weekly sheets and staff rota, and went away unable to find any fault, and instead talked about Guy Watsons (?) and Bordeaux. Our staff hours are set at 70. We have been dithering around with this figure for a while and so it wasn't a blow. LG thinks as we do about Ron Brook and promises to come here on the day we get back from holiday and says he may even drop in on Thursday evening. He does look after our interest. Walked with Samuel again.

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Monday September 16, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

It is the third anniversary of Dad leaving the police force. Only Ally and I worked tonight. Three old ladies came in to the bar at the same time and panic ensued over the bottles of light ale. Food busy. Everybody had fish and chips. Mrs Collinson phoned to say she won't cook whilst we are on holiday. Silly cow. _____.  Samuel and I have been taking long afternoon walks over Hunslet Moor and across the motorway bridge. A pony was tethered and Samuel went into raptures. Samuel seemed to enjoy the walk more than the sliding and swinging experience in the park. This is reassuring. Parks are such dull, childish places.

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Sunday September 15, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

15th Sunday after Trinity

Frank's birthday today spent on the island of Jersey whilst the builders do great things at Chillandham Cross.

To Horton early-ish. The Bakers were in attendance. ________. Lynn spoke of joining us at Bessie's on Sept 28 - quite uninvited. Frances is into ballet and she leapt and twirled everywhere. Katie is into a witch called Esmerelda. We had a cold, dismal buffet. Poor Horton. Dad is using Mum's 'priceless' china from the cabinet. She'd squeal if she knew. Poor Dad. We left at 6:30. Dad waving us off was a tear-jerking experience. To the pub. Sat upstairs. Juke box booming up through the floor. Watched Sherlock Holmes on the TV. Dreadful.

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