Friday September 7, 1979

Poor Uncle Harry. I knew he wouldn't last for long. He rose at noon and told Mama he was 'going to the bank', but he did not return until 3:30 and his balance was far from steady. When I arrived home at 5 I could sense an atmosphere. By 7 they were all gone for something called 'a basket meal'.

I opened a few bottles, switched on the stereo and waited for Alison. She arrived at 9 and we went to the White Cross where we were joined by Gus and Frank. Ally was sinking pints of lager and blackcurrant as if she'd spent eight days and nights in the Gobi Desert. In came Kathryn Chaffer with her husband Peter [Harrison?], and they came over for a chat. At 11, weighed down with bottles, we crossed the road to their little terrace house. They have only been married for five weeks, and so on entering the house we were required to remove our shoes ['the carpet is new']. We were also told that the wallpaper on the chimney breast cost £38. Yes £38 for just the one wall. Zzzzzzzz. Mrs Harrison proudly proclaimed: "the carpet just doesn't stop there ---- it goes all the way up the stairs". Isn't that what a stair carpet is supposed to do? Ally, so enthralled, fell asleep on the new sofa, snoring gently upon my shoulder. Kathryn and I did however see eye to eye on most things, including the monarchy. Peter, her husband, took me on one side to show me his Pirelli calendar collection. He seemed to be quite aroused by the crumpled 1973 edition.

We left the Chaffer residence at some obscure hour after consuming vast amounts of whisky. So much so that my chain of thought is now a rusting pile of scrap metal. We drove back to Bradford and fell in the door at something like 3am. Coffee and Emmerson, Lake and Palmer's 'Pictures at an Exhibition' playing full blast.

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Thursday August 23, 1979

_. All the best people are getting married these days, aren't they? The Duke of Sutherland; Twiggy; Rod Stewart; Christine Braithwaite; Lorna Luft; Nikki Lauda; Jack Parnell; Tina, Marchioness of Blandford [died 1971]; Prince Bertil of Sweden and his bit of stuff, Lil, to name but a few. So, with this in mind Ally and I have decided to elope. Tonight's Jim and Margaret session really went with a bang following our announcement, and Mummy lapped it up, showering us both with kisses when we retired to bed at `1:30am. I am only agreeing to elope because I want to be made a ward of court, but Dad ruined things by pointing out I am too old to be made subject of such a court order. We don't know whether to go to Gretna Green or just find a village parson in Hampshire on our way to Martyr Worthy.

At 1:30 Ally came to my room and I crammed a few of my worldly possessions into her suitcase. I have never shared a suitcase with a young lady before. I reflect that for most of my twenty five years I have lived like a future Pope. Entirely blameless and as pure as the driven snow. I wouldn't want Ally to realise this. It cannot be good to be stereotyped into the Cliff Richard mould.

Just a half-day to work and then it's a nice long break. Bye, bye.

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Thursday August 9, 1979

_. Just Ally and I to the Cow and Calf and later Oakwood Hall. ________. We did not go out until after 9pm but made up for it in the bar. She drank like a large fish. I overheard a girl in the bar confide in a friend that my Hawaiian-style shirt resembled 'two dishcloths stitched together'.

At Oakwood we continued down our destructive path towards vagrancy and destitution drinking Pernod and cider in obnoxious proportions. We behaved like savages on the dance floor. Groping, kissing, etc. It resembled a scene from a 1942 film where the young army captain is taking leave of his bride after two days leave to go get himself shot in the Balkans. I was Tyrone Power.

Coffee and sandwiches at 3:30am.

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Friday January 19, 1979

Snows like Hell all day. Getting to work was tedious.

Sarah phoned at 11 o'clock to say she doesn't want to go see 'Jaws 2' tonight because of the atrocious weather. (She's on half day). Besides, Delia will not move from her fireside when such weather prevails. I am cheered by this news because it will be nice to see Alison (Dixon) tonight.

At home by 6:30pm - deep snow. Alison's car only just made it up the lane. She's in the lounge eating sandwiches, looking thinner and pale. She is so sweet. ___________.

Alison Dixon: thinner, pale and sweet ...

Alison phoned Lynn and they had mild hysterics & at 7pm, armed with sleeping bags, hot water bottles and thermal underwear we, Alison and I in her car, with shovels, headed down to Burley in Wharfedale. We arrived to be bombarded with snowballs by David. He had that devilish glint in his eye.  We waited until almost 10pm for Susan and Peter who travelled down by bus.

Watched the final episode of "Edward and Mrs Simpson" - enjoyable. Lynn's attitude is one of stubbornness this evening.

Went over to the Red Lion at 10 o'clock and in the space of one feeble hour spent £20! The ladies drank brandy and Babycham & we boys had pints with whisky chasers. Disgusting really.

At 11:15 Lynn was singing "Winchester Cathedral" to the amiable, fat landlord. At 11:30 Lynn was out cold in the snow and David, Peter and I had to give her a 'chairlift' home. She was so very pissed up. At midnight she fell over the back of her settee, and later fell in the bathroom and smashed her head on the tiles. The remaining five of us drank and listened to music and played charades until after 3am. Peter N is very good at mime. Like Marcel Marceau, in fact. The funniest film titles he depicted were 'Bridge on the River Kwai' and Kelly's Heroes'.

At some ridiculous hour David began laying tiles on a worktop in the kitchen (yes, tiles are the in thing today). At about 4 we took to our sleeping bags. We were nice to Ally and gave her the spare bedroom.

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