Saturday January 8, 1983

 Ally was tired and subsequently ratty throughout the day. As I've said before she'd make a very good psychopathic world leader.

We lay in bed until well after 11 and went down to 'breakfast' scantily clad. We ate crumpets in semi-darkness and discussed our plan of action for the day. Provisions are low and so we got a bus to the market and came back at 2:30 heavily laden. 

I went outside and planted the Christmas tree now looking so drab after its Yuletide trimming of glitter and lights. Inside we played hunt the Christmas decorations box which was nowhere to be found. We had lasagne and a couple of glasses of red wine.

I wrote to Edna and Nellie. They wrote to us before Christmas and I do want to keep in touch. We are condsidering going to look at the 1881 census next Saturday. 

John phoned this evening to see if we fancied going over for a few drinks. Janette arrived at 6 o'clock this morning. She got a lift from a sister who was travelling south and is staying until Wednesday or Thursday. Obviously, we were not in a fit state to go anywhere. ___________.

Saw on the news that the Prime Minister has arrived in the Falklands on a surprise visit. I sat day dreaming about the flags fluttering in Port Stanley. We tuned in to a dreadful American soap called 'Dynasty'. Ally is like Papa in the way that they sit and pull tv programmes to pieces. To bed at 11:45 after bathing in Ally's pink bath salts.

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Friday January 7, 1983

 Frank Metcalfe's snow didn't come, but it's cold and very wet. Laid beneath my Oasis quilt until almost 7:30. Ally skipping around like a young lamb. (All lambs are young - Ed.)

Ally's plea for an electric typewriter must have had some effect because today they removed the ancient machine from her desk and made off with it. By 'they' I mean the eight old men in blue overalls who are paid by the NHS to carry one typewriter between them. 

YP chaotic. Sarah still off tending to her ailing mother. Mum phoned. She and Dad are going off for the weekend and will come to Bradford - if it's OK with us - on Sunday to stay for a couple of days.Susan and Peter have had them for a month, and it's about time we had a bash. It will make a pleasant change. Ally says, laughing, that I will now have someone with whom to stay up late at night with watching TV until closedown.

Tonight we watched ten minutes of Channel 4 and then switched off. We didn't fancy the Spanish Civil War. Speaking of Spain, King Juan Carlos has broken his pelvis while skiing.

Mrs Thatcher has reshuffled the government. John Nott has resigned and will receive a knighthood, and so does Neil Marten. Michael Heseltine has gone to defence. I think Michael Heseltine will go far. Lord Bellwin, a Leeds lad, has been promoted to minister for Local Government. When will the election come? Some say May/June, but I think the old girl might hang on until the autumn.

Ally still battling through 'Penmarric'. She says it's a diabolical book, and yet she's buried beneath it at every opportunity. 

I sent a 'happy New Year' letter to Edna and Nellie. Its difficult writing to someone you've never met. Sixty seven year-old spinsters too - not likely to appreciate jokes about the Pope and Bo Derek.

Lord Halifax is asking for a personal secretary and Ally wants to apply. The applicants for the job have to be over 35 and live at Garrowby. Camilla Halifax is the pretty heiress daughter of Colonel Younger of the brewing dynasty.

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Thursday January 6, 1983

 Epiphany

Could quite easily have reclined in bed this morning. Snatched a bit of breakfast. Ally bouncing around full of glee. She is going in to the office to ask Derek for an electric typewriter, just to be awkward.

To the YP: Busy day doing stuff for the diary. Viscount Melgund is engaged and so is Lady Julia Percy, the Duke of Northumberland's daughter, and Henry Tennant, son of Colin Tennant, has married on Mustique. Surprisingly, Princess Margaret wasn't at the nuptials. It was Charles Tennant who caused a stink when he stole photos from his mother's album and sold them to the Daily Mirror. Oh dear, yes.

Went out at 12:30 to buy some shoes in the sales but couldn't find a decent pair. I despise the 'January sales' and do not usually associate myself with them. I am wearing the shoes I married in, and my toes are almost through at the end. I feel damp and shabby. Pass me a bottle of meths and I'll really look the part.

Drank a mug of chicken and mushroom soup on my bench in Park Square and noticed that the daffodils are pushing up. It was a warm day but Frank Metcalfe says we are due for some snow. Frank is something of an expert of weather patterns. 

Didn't speak to Ally. Was too busy. I'm working through the honours and have all the MBEs to look at. I'll be still at it in July. Daley Thompson got one. That man is big headed enough already.

Mum phoned to say she has bought us a Minton dinner plate in the sales for £7. They are thinking of going off somewhere for the weekend. They are all piled up in the cramped space of West End Terrace. She is a little upset that Lynn and Dave haven't invited them to stay at Thorpe Lane. You know just how temperamental Mum is. However, it would have been nice of them to invite the refugees over for the odd night. I know they have a new baby and all that.

At home I had fish and chips, but Ally just had a bit of toast. Poor Ally has put on a stone in weight over Christmas and is now eight and a half stone. 'Top of the Pops' then 'Superman' which I saw at the cinema when first out. The (Christmas) tree lights are still burning. Is the tree supposed to be down tonight? Will it bring bad luck if it remains up? I suppose I'd better go dismantle the thing.

Ally demanded a gin and tonic and kept peeping at me over the newspaper, passing comments on the days news. The dog which fell off the pier and Blackpool resulting in the death of several policemen is a Jack Russell. How hideous. 

We retired to bed at about 10:30. Both washed out.

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Wednesday January 5, 1983

 Oh yes, I forgot that in the chaos on Sunday night Uncle John E. Rhodes phoned  to wish a happy birth day to Mum and Dad whilst they were at Sue's. He thanked us for the present.

On the subject of John Rhodeses, all is now well with my brother, John P. Rhodes, ___________.

YP: Busy day. Margo says I'm a swot. Policemen have drowned at Blackpool whilst trying to save a dog from the sea off the pier. I am eagerly  awaiting the PM's re-shuffle. Michae Heseltine is expected to get Defence.

The Queen has been giving riding lessons to the Princess of Wales at Sandringham. The poor girl had a nasty experience on horseback years ago and has hated equine beasts ever since. This won't do.

Phoned Lynn at 2. She was let out of hospital at 10:30 and loving being home. Frances was stunned to see her mother breast feeding Katie, and ran away at the sight of a dirty nappy.

Went to see Jacq at lunchtime. She saw the birth announcement in yesterday's YP. 'Where did they get Davina from?' she exclaimed, pulling a face. I like Davina. Surely, it's the feminine of David? People can be very dull and conservative when it comes to names. Ally and I laugh. They will have a blue fit when we come to name ours.

Fish fingers tonight too, drizzled in cheese sauce. Played with my typewriter. Ally still reading 'Penmarric'. I poured another late gin and tonic. Two years ago we decided to get married. Bliss.

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Tuesday January 4, 1983

 The Lada goes away. We are carless once again. To the YP. Slept soundly on the bus to Leeds. Felt even worse than I did yesterday. The phlegm is no better, and am coughing it up thick and green throughout the day. Hideous.

Sarah's taken the rest of the week off to nurse Delia who is very ill with influenza. She hasn't seen daylight since Christmas Eve.

Geoff Hemingway is giving me some tip money for Christopher Ussher's engagement. He's a godson of Princess Mary, the Princess Royal.

News: a maniac is on the loose in West Yorkshire. He's raping and dumping women, tied hand and foot, into canals. Not nice.

Home to find enough Yorkshire puddings to feed and army. To bed at 9:30 with a gin and tonic. A pleasant change from cocoa.

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Monday January 3, 1983

 We sat at the flat in the early hours watching American basketball on BBC2. Ally, bored, reading the Dalesman. I nodded off but kept waking with a start. Finally, at 2:45am I phoned Mum. Lynn had been gone for a couple of hours. We went back to Thorpefields. Our phone call woke Frances, who sat with her grandad singing. David rang at 4:20 to say baby was on it;'s way. He phoned again at 6, and Mum took the call. It's a girl weighing 5lb 14oz who is 51cm long and is to be called Katie Davina. She was born at 5:03am.

Ally took me to the YP for 9am. A quiet, gentle day. Only Margo and I. Escaped at 3 when Ally picked me up. I wrapped a present for Katie as we drove to Otley. Saw my new niece for the first time at 3:45. Mum, Dad, Sue, Audrey and Henry were at the hospital. Baby is tiny, and like a peach. 

To Sue and Pete's. We wanted to go out and eat but couldn't because of Christopher. John, just back from Scotland and without Janette, was telephoned and he reluctantly agreed to babysit. Ally and I took Sue and Pete to the Fox and Hounds, joined by Mum and Dad. We had Porterhouse steaks. It was £18.50 a couple, and we wrote a cheque to Mum, who paid the bill. We sat in the bar until after 11pm. We told them all that we want to pack in our office jobs and do something together. They all agreed and said we should do it immediately. It's good to know that people share our point of view. I am very tempted to go into the office tomorrow and pack the whole lot in. Home at 12. 

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Sunday January 2, 1983

 2nd Sunday after Christmas

Papa is 49 today and Mama is 48. I have it on good authority that Mum was born after 11pm on the night of the 2nd, whilst Dad was born at about 12:30am, only just into the 2nd. They thought Dad, the sixth child, was stillborn when he was delivered, and he weighed well over 10lb.

We were up at 10 for scrambled eggs.The phone rang. It was Mum who said that Lynn has been up since 4am and is probably in the early stages of labour. The soirée planned for this afternoon is therefor postponed. Can one have a soirée in the afternoon anyway? How about mêlée?

We drove over to Guiseley with our birthday presents. (A black visitors book for Dad to use for his guests at Waltergarth, and Quartz perfume for Mum). Sit and had a drink in John's very cold flat. He is still celebrating Hogmanay with Janette in Lochans. Lynn, Dave and Frances came. Baby was tetchy. She knows something catastrophic is about to happen to mummy, poor thing. Lynn looked flushed and nervous. She loathes the thought of hospital. Jim and Margaret come bringing cards and good wishes. They only stayed a while. By 5pm it was just Mum, Dad, Ally and I. The fish and chip shop across the road was open and so we ate. Then we sat watching 'Songs of Praise' from the Falkland Islands. So bloody boring.

Later the phone rang again. It was Lynn having contractions. Mum and Dad went off to Thorpefields telling us to lock up the flat and join then after Lynn's departure for Otley Hospital. We did as asked, but on arriving at Thorpe Lane Dave's car is still sat on the drive. I got out for a closer look only to see David opening the door. Lynn understandably didn't want an audience to watch her labour and so I bolted like a rabbit back down the garden path and into the car and we took off at speed. We went up and down Thorpe Lane about eight times. It was great fun.

Went to see Susie and Pete. Hilda and Tony were there and they said they were heading to Lynn and Dave's with birth birthday cards for Mum and Dad. Sue tried desperately to delay them by topping up their glasses, but couldn't delay them long. They went at 9. I imagined the scene at Thorpefields. Torn sheets, hot water, all the relations sitting around the writhing expectant mother, like a peep show. We went on to John's flat at about midnight.

-=-

Saturday January 1, 1983

 New Year's Day

The first day of another year. I suppose I ought to pen something quite stunning which will grip you and hold your attention for the remaining 364 days. What can I say? I'm only a simple Bradford lad so you'll have to get used to being thoroughly bored.

We breakfasted with Karen and Steve. It lasted about two hours. We kept draining the coffee and then filling up again. Ally lingered in bed longer. _____________.

Karen and Steve were gone at 2. We, feeling remarkably fit, packed up and went to Guiseley via Shipley where we bought some provisions and on to Lynn & Dave's. They were entertaining Dave and Elaine Allinson. Frances is a beautiful little girl who will sing and recite anything.She knows a baby is coming into the family and beams at the mention of it. They are all coming to Bradford tomorrow. On to see Sue, Pete and Christopher for an hour and on to see Mum (at John's flat). They were out. Home. Had steak and chips. Ally to bed at 10. I sat watching a Barbara Stanwyck film until 2.

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Friday December 31, 1982

 YP until after 2.The New Years Honours list published. Nothing spectacular. The lower ones all seem to be water authority chairmen or old ladies who have worked in a Glamorgan canteen since 1914. I wouldn't touch an honour with a barge pole, except for the Garter.

Ally came running down the path after me and bundled me into a car with Mr Taylor and Patricia from the AHA. We went to a fuddle at Chestnut House. Other peoples offices are strange places.

Home at 5 sozzled. Fish and chips. Frantic arranging. Sue and Pete were first in at 8 followed by Patricia and Marcus, Dave L (looking like the 'principal boy' from 'Dick Whittington' in tight trousers and very long suede boots). MM and Marita. Poor Marita is bandaged and yet looks splendid in what looks like an Emanuel gown. To the Coach House. Joined there by Karen, Steve, Jill, Tim, Jacq, Lynne (Jacq's friend), David & Jean Watts, &c. I'll hand it to the Coach House, it was an excellent atmosphere. Balloons, party hats, loud music. We were all thrown into a state of festive euphoria. I had a secret ballot among the revellers which resulted in our return to Ash Tree Cottage on foot at 11:30. The streets were full of drunken people hurrying home to 'see in' the New Year. Cars were driving past us horns a tooting. I supplied everyone with a glass of something gripping and we took up our positions. At a few minutes to 12 we locked MM outside (one has to be tall and dark to fill this role) and we heard the chimes of Big Ben down the air waves courtesy of Radio One. 'Auld Langs Ayne'. 

We formed a conga line and danced out of the house, down the street, and in to Mary's, and then further down the street and back to ours having collected some neighbours, including Mary, into the chain on the way. One of Mary's friends, Rose, a comely Mrs Mills type, seated herself at our piano and banged out old tunes for over an hour. We stood around singing like the Vienna Boys' Choir. Mary attempted a Charleston and fell over and required assistance back to her place. Food magic. Music magic.

Everything went off remarkably well. It was one of our better parties. So good having MM and Marita with us. She always says that to see a Rhodes on New Years Eve brings good fortune in the coming year. New comers to our house express admiration for our interior design ability. I don't they say this just to be nice and for something to say. It happens far too often.

This was our first New Year party at Bradford. MM says that when George Orwell wrote '1984' he hadn't taken Margaret Thatcher into account. I couldn't agree more. We both agree that Mrs T will win the next general election when it comes.

Di and Paul didn't come. Paul has had a fracas with Tim. __________. Sue was all in black and thank God is back to her old self. Her face has given up that sickly look which I found terrifying.

Dave L had his usual dance with Steve and then slipped into a coma on the settee. He later found his way up to bed complaining he was feeling sick. All went home except Dave L, Karen and Steve. The Sandersons slept in a sleeping bag downstairs.

Ally and I went up to bed at 5am on January 1, 1983, feeling happy and moderately sober. God give us 70 more New Years.

--=-

Thursday December 30, 1982

 Full Moon

Nothing really. YP dismal. Michael Brown was fretting about the New Years Honours list this afternoon. Apparently none of the recipients this year could be found in our files. I could not be bothered looking at the list, embargoed as yet.

Ally and I went to Morrison's in the Lada. I felt lousy all day. Headache. Thick phlegm. Bought the usual party things. My aches and pains didn't help my temper, but the peasants jostling for fish fingers and toilet rolls reaffirmed my belief in the sanctity of mankind and I emerged from the supermarket beaming , and humming a Beethoven sonata. Bumped into Catherine and David Alderson.

Made smoked mackerel pâté, profiteroles, &c. Watched Top of the Pops. To bed late. Exhausted.

-=-

Wednesday December 29, 1982

Uncle Albert.

 On this day I always think of my Uncle Albert Wilson (Nov 1895-Dec 1969).

To the YP. Felt ill. Dry throat and sniffles. We are all looking 'off it'. Typical.  I did obituaries. Lord Sherborne died on Christmas Day and is succeeded by his 85 year-old kinsman who lives in Alresford.

Tonight Ally stood ironing by the light of the Christmas tree. I poured a few gins with bobbing ice cubes, and floating citrus fruits. Yes, lemon. Phoned people to make sure they've remembered our party. Spoke to Dave L and MM who says Marita fell over outside the Black Bull on the Monday before Christmas and broke a bone in her foot. The poor girl crawled for 50 yards down Horsforth Town Street and nobody stopped to assist. Talk about the Good Samaritan. Phoned Jackie Myers, Jacq Sate and Denise Akroyd, but had no response from this trio. Unfortunate. Is Jackie M in Torremolinos with Barry?

Bed after a whisky.

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