You can always tell when I'm writing pissed, can't you? YP. Fucking rubbish. Why am I still there? Never mind.
I was painting in the cellar at 6:30 when Mum phoned to say that Maria gave birth to a daughter this morning at 10:00am weighing 6lb and the odd ounce. Hannah is the name. __________.
-=-
11th Sunday after Trinity
John came and boxed in the stray pipes, and found a good many faults with our £1300 kitchen. Joiners tend to do this with work from other tradesmen. Back to Pine Tops for 6pm. Dinner. Sheep and Yorkshire puddings. Fun. Wine. John drove us home with a Christmas tree [?]
-=-
We went out looking for ironing boards and general things for the house. Saw curtain material, and found a carpet [pale green] for £2.80, or £280, more likely. Home jaded. TV. Bed.
-=-
The new cooker works. Yorkshire puddings tonight. Joyful feelings in the kitchen. Russell Harty on TV. Later, Alfred Hitchcock. Baked bread, yes bread.
New books arrived. Picasso, Dali and Surrealism.
-=-
Half day. Bought tiles and [wall]paper at Fads. Returned to home base. The little kitchen erector comes from Barnsley, or a place three miles therefrom, and immediately he warmed to my south Yorkshire connections. Made tea. The kitchen man finished at 3. Ally and I dined at home. Actually we had fish and chips.
-=-
Kitchen renovations Day 3. We came home from work, changed, and went out at 6:45 to the Oddfellows, a run down and filthy pub. An elderly Pakistani was playing the fuit machine with gusto. Moved on after one drink to the Second West. This pub has changed hands since our last visit. The organ is no more, and I suspect that Stan [the organist] has joined the heavenly host. To the Coachman's or is it the Coach House? I preferred it when it was Mucky Willie's. The dirt and destruction at home is getting on Ally's nerves and we were quarrelsome. I hate squabbling. At 10 we stormed out and went to buy a curry. Hotter. Four inches of dirt had settled at home, but the cooker and sink were installed.
-=-
The kitchen renovations continue. Our crooked walls are making it a long job. Tonight we went by bus, in pouring rain, into the metropolis, and had more Italian food at the Pizza House, on Sunbridge Road. Whitebait, prawn cocktails, lasagne. We were the only diners and our only companions were the tropical fish swimming amiably around in a tank. We used the good old Barclaycard, a rare thing these days. When we left the restaurant it was still pouring down , and seeing no buses, we walked half way home sharing an umbrella. We arrived home damp and happy to inspect the kitchen progress. To bed with hot drinks.
The gutter press are reporting that the marriage of Princess Anne and Capt Phillips is on the rocks. The princess celebrated her 32nd birthday at Balmoral, whilst Mark was farming hundreds of miles away at Gatcombe Park. It is about time that the press realised that members of the royal family are quite different to the ordinary couples out on the street. The Queen and Prince Philip are often parted for weeks on end but not because they are unhappy with each other. Royal life is essentially a lonely one.
-=-
Graham and Gill went back to Gloucestershire. Ally took the day off to receive the little men from Kitchen Studios, who arrived at 11 took a cheque for £1300 and then sat around drinking tea all afternoon. They hadn't realised that the house would be so 'crooked'. Nothing is square. I came home at 6. Ally was covered in dust, but calm. The kitchen fitters were still at work and so we changed and got a bus into the city [after having a quick one at the Coachman's], arriving at a pizza place, Giuseppi's Backyard, at 9. Ally still not loving her food, but she's improving. Window shopping. Bradford is full of scaffolding. Home and to bed. No doubt we'll see some developments in the kitchen tomorrow - tonight just chaos.
-=-
10th Sunday after Trinity
Trevor took us to the Holiday Inn, where he works, and showed us a couple of rooms, before our breakfast. Had a few drinks and left for Bradford at 3. John was awaiting us on our return at 5 and had boxed in more pipes. He dashed home to change and returned at 7. We went for a drink with Philip and Carol Middlebrough, and Richard and Eileen, to the Malt Shovel, again. John used to play football with Philip many years ago. Poor Eileen cannot persuade Richard to marry her. Much Tetley's consumed. At 10:30 we went to the Fire Brigade followed by a grand finale - a Chinese take-away. John came back to Ash Tree Cottage with Graham and Gill and we listened to Emerson, Lake & Palmer whilst demolishing prawn sweet and sour. Delicious. Ally feeling herself again. She is susceptible to travel sickness.
-=-
Sunshine. Ally and I had slept on a camp bed on Trevor and Terry's sitting room floor. We left at 10 for Eston, and got there in about one hour. Ally looked delicious in her new dress and shoes. Gill in a Laura Ashley maternity number. We had a quick pint in a pub opposite the church. The wedding was at 12. A typical wedding. The bride, poor thing, looked almost drab in a soiled gown. A cast off from her sister's nuptials. The vicar, as usual these days, asked us not to throw anything inside the churchyard. The hymns were drab, but Graham had us shaking with hysterics at his remarkable baritone. On to a social club for the 'reception'. Abysmal food. Egg sandwiches, corned beef pasties and that sort of thing. The bridegroom's parents were slightly more 'up-market' than the family of the bride, and people crawled under their tables when the father of the bride, pissed, clad in a kilt, made a progress around the guests flashing his privates. A party of heavily tattooed builders soon demolished the buffet and by the time we got to the table we found nothing but empty plates. The barmaid had only one full arm and a ghastly pink stump where able bodied people usually have a second arm. She somehow managed to hold a pint glass in her stump [she had an elbow joint] and hobble to the beer taps and back splashing the peculiar northern ale everywhere in the process. Very off putting.
Ally went for a chat with the mother of the groom, and declared her to be a sweet old woman. Consumed gallons. Gill was very amusing and we do so enjoy pulling people to bits. The bride's mother changed into carpet slippers. Disco music throughout. The pub was above a betting shop and when we emerged into the sunshine at 5pm to wave goodbye to the bridal pair heading to Wales, we clashed with the men putting a tenner each way on 'Sunny Boy' running at Haydock Park. Back to Newcastle. Dined with Trevor and Terry [or is the feminine 'Teri'?] on goulash. Bed. Hot.
-=-
A fried repast with Graham and Gill. Ally has a poor appetite since her attack of botulism. All lethargic. We went out shopping. Gill wants net curtains to deter a Gloucestershire nosey parker. No joy. Ally bought some delightful blue shoes from Top Shop. Graham says they make her look like a pixie or garden gnome, but then he is very conservative. Handbag too. [Oh yes, and she bought a new blue dress on Wednesday. Still, she hardly ever buys anything new]. Lunched at the White Horse at Thornton and spent £9 on a ploughman's lunch. We did eat 3lb of cheese each. Back at Club St we packed and left for Newcastle at 4:30. I slept for most of the journey. They were laughing at me sprawled in the back of the car with my mouth wide open. To the Thirsty Farmers Bar at the Europa Lodge Hotel - drinking hideous gassy Tetley's. Gill's brother Trevor arrived with his live-in girlfriend, Terry [Teresa Weymes]. To a pizza place in the middle of Newcastle. Some people say that the people, the noise, ther atmosphere of Newcastle is so like Ibiza. Slightly older. Graham and I had the folded up pizza [calzone]. Ally wasn't hungry and I finished her lasagne. Poor Terry upturned her very hot pizza onto her knees and scolded her legs. Fortunately she was wearing jeans. Graham got a parking ticket. It's £10 these days.Back to Trevor and Terry's modern little house which is overlooking an impressive man-made lake in the middle of an housing estate. Everywhere in Newcastle looks new. The closest I have been to Newcastle was to Washington New Town in 1973.
-=-
