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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Friday February 16, 1979

_. Slept until 11. Wrapped up well before leaving for Sarah's at Horsforth at 12 o'clock. Mum was grumpy because I was venturing out when I'm supposed to be ill and off work. To Ivory Towers [238, West End Lane, Horsforth] where I collected a pile of clothes ordered from the Grattans catalogue. Delia, Sarah and I went first to Morrisons and then a wallpaper shop. It wasn't an easy thing selecting wallpaper. We all had very different opinions. Just why was I there?
They are lovely women.

Home at 5:30. Tonight, to the Shoulder with Sue, Peter, Chippy, Debbie, "Floo" and his moll. Quite boring really. Peter M, Chris R and Steve came in and I chatted with them to break the monotony.  Home at 11, sober and dull. I argued with Motherdear about something ridiculous.

Pnuemocallaghanicosis is sweeping the country. It affects its victims in a serious, embarrassing way. The symptoms are a] not wanting to work, b] an inability to dispose of refuse or move the bins, c] the appetite is unaffected and d] the victim is still quite capable of consuming vast quantities of alcohol, e] he looks outwardly healthy but is dim witted and slow to grasp the situation, and f] he becomes belligerent to those who might want to boost the economy, or be inclined to labour for the greater good. The only known cure is to give the victim an immediate pay rise of over 50 per cent.

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Sunday July 30, 1978

10th after Trinity

After breakfast we all sped off to Lawn Road for a days work. Jacq was on her hands and knees scrubbing at the staircase. It poured with rain all day and only relented when we were ready to come home at about 7.

The four of us (Lynn, Dave, Jacq and me) crammed ourselves into the Spitfire and had a hilarious drive home over the moor. Lynn was clinging on for dear life.

Back at Pine Tops John, Maria and JPH were paying a visit. JPH is no longer a baby - he's a real little boy - with sturdy legs and flowing hair. He seems to have discovered a temper though. At one point when Maria wouldn't let him play with Susan's sunglasses he exclaimed: "Shit, then!" A deadly silence followed broken only by me giggling.

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