Sunday July 31, 1983

 9th Sunday after Trinity

    Linthorpe Hotel, Middlesbrough

Margaret: buttocks.

Felt not too bad and went about my morning business quite unaided. Roy didn't surface until late. I went about the garden picking up debris from last night. Used contraceptives. Yes, you name it and I found it. 87p in coins scattered around the lawns. At 12 I was put in the vault (the back bar) - not my favourite place, and stood until 2 with the alcoholic OAPs. Marie's mother, the nymphomaniac Margaret, keeps coming in to molest me and drain the Diet Pils lager. She pulled a few pints and grabbed at my buttocks. She is 53 but has retained all her urges. The Barneses Sunday lunch smells divine. We had steak and switched on the TV, for the first time since our arrival here, and watched a noisy film Dunkirk. We switched off and slept until after 6. A moderate Sunday evening. Heavy rain deterred people using the garden. We had just one drink after closing and went up to bed but couldn't sleep. All the late night films are starring David Niven. His autobiography was ghastly and put me off the man.

-=-

Saturday July 30, 1983

The Linthorpe Hotel, Middlesbrough

 The burglar alarm sounded at 7:30am even before I had left the bedroom. I think it must be Roy mucking around. His sense of fun is legendary. Feel groggy. I did my bottling up and then had a large cooked breakfast at 8:30. Ally sat in the office and spent the afternoon with Mags, Marie's sister, in the kitchen. I worked in the bar with Barry and Carol until 3:30. Up to bed at closing and found Ally asleep on top of the bed reminiscent of Queen Victoria's effigy in the Royal Mausoleum at Frogmore. Yesterday we signed up for some life insurance making each other beneficiaries in the event of our deaths. The lump sum payable is four times our annual salary. We also joined the Sam Smith's pension fund but it doesn't kick in until Oct 1, and BUPA. My grogginess had passed by lunchtime. We ate cheese sandwiches outside beneath a large, dark tree. Time is flying so rapidly it's frightening. It was the usual riot tonight. A mob came in who were en route to a 'bad taste' fancy dress party. Everyone dressed in ridiculous 'loud' clothes, &c. At 12 Roy, JT, some others and me, walked on to the party. Roy in shorts and school cap. Quite a hideous party. Fourteen year-olds throwing up everywhere. Not a glass in the place. I stood sharing JT's flagon of cider until he staggered off at 2. I lingered until 3 and then walked home leaving Roy there with his Jim Beam. Ally had only just retired.

-=-

Friday July 29, 1983

 I was hoping it might rain today to spoil Maria's wedding but alas it proved hot and warm. At least she can no longer dishonour our family by using our august surname. They are going to honeymoon at Molly and Jim's and Janette says she is going to spy on them.

Maria & Alex.

Up at 5am and off on our way back to Middlesbrough. Ally collected her iron tablets from Boots and bought some red dungarees. Taxi to the Linthorpe for 10. We were back to work for 11. Mike Walker, from the brewery, arrived at 2:30 and we signed lots of papers. It was a quiet lunch and a busy night. Ally looked cute in her red dungarees. Kieran asked if she was here to clean the windows. All the staff sat after closing and I bought everyone a drink (£8.50). Roy and the lads went off to Mandy's disco in town and I went up to join Ally, who retired at 12. Dave and Mike borrowed my shoes to go dancing. Will I ever get them back? Hot night.

Red dungarees.

News: The Penrith by-election was a disaster. Whitelaw's 15,000 majority in June was slashed to 500 or so. David Niven has snuffed it. Princess Michael of Kent's marriage has been recognised by the Pope, and they are to have it blessed by (Cardinal) Hume. Why was her first marriage annulled? 

-=-

Thursday July 28, 1983

 Slept late. Had a leisurely breakfast which dragged on into the afternoon. We walked up to Saint Street Clinic, Ally in her pretty flowing red dress, to see Sister Matthews, and a doctor, Asian. She had a spina bifida blood test and a prescription for iron which they say she desperately needs. She hasn't put on weight, and is calculated as being 16 weeks pregnant. We walked to a bus and went into Bradford where I bought her tea in Rackham's (prawn sandwiches and orange juice and a biscuit for £3!) The place was full of old ladies all with blue rinses. Bought Ally a blue t-shirt. Later we went to the doctor to collect the prescription for iron. Bought corn on the cob and lamb chops and had a large evening meal at 6.Watched the news. We have lost touch with the world since going to Middlesbrough. Is Harold Wilson a viscount or a life baron? Watched TV until 10 and  slept like logs.

-=-

Wednesday July 27, 1983

John, Ally, Lynn, Dave, & Janette.

     Up at 5:30am and we crept to the kitchen and made bacon and eggs. Jan, the cook, came waddling in looking surprised. A taxi took us to Middlesbrough station. A bright, sunny morn. In Bradford for 9:30. Mary gave us a coffee and was pleased to see us. Miss Whincup, who hasn't been well in the heat, went off to York with a niece. We had a large lunch and went to Guiseley for 3:30 and spent the evening with the Bakers. Sue and Pete are at Horton but John & Janette joined us for fish and chips and we contributed £5 to a kitty for cans of ale and Martini. Janette has had her hair cut off and dyed. It looks awful. She told us details of Maria's wedding. The garden at Lochans is to be decorated with fairy lights on Friday and Catherine is to attend on her mother, &c._______. Janette was tired. John had made her climb Ingleborough this morning, and it was such a strain that she cried when nearing the summit. John is rapidly becoming one of those boring fitness fanatics, and he sat tonight in his shorts, jogging gear. Dave brought us home after midnight.

-=-

Tuesday July 26, 1983

 Roy and Marie went off to Redcar Races. Ally spent the day in the kitchen. I phoned Lynn to say we will be over to see her for tea tomorrow. Spoke to Mum who told me Marie and Alex's wedding is fixed for Friday in Stranraer. John's divorce papers have arrived from Edinburgh. Meanwhile, he and Janette are at Waltergarth scaling the Three Peaks. He is glum. Janette says Alex is _______. That's a gas. Roy, back from the races and in a mood, snaps at everyone tonight and flies like an angry Dobermann at James (the red headed barman). I washed the glasses at closing and took until 11:15 which was something of a record. Another barman, Barry, has found a job in London and leaves on Sunday. He will get £22 a day cash in hand labouring and claim dole as well. Ron borrowed my electric razor again and disappeared with my aftershave lotion. He must have found a woman. We went up to bed at 11:30. Two days off! Yippee! _____.

-=-

NB: I am struggling to believe that I would have ever allowed someone to use my electric razor. Ugh.

Monday July 25, 1983

 Full Moon

Marie is cooking something which makes Ally feel sick. This afternoon I had my first awkward customer. A bearded, red headed man called Eric, horribly pissed, disliked the way I walked about jangling the pub keys at closing time at 3pm. I was assigned to the vault at 7pm and the drooling Eric was asleep face down on the bar. No amount of trying by me to awaken him worked and when he finally regained consciousness he spat on the floor and staggered out of the door. The place was full of pissed, senile OAPs. No music, and only the clicking of the balls on the pool table. One ageing hippie was singing old 'Beach Boy' numbers. Roy didn't like the way I allowed a pool game to go on until 10:45, but fell silent when he saw it was his son, William, playing.

-=-

Sunday July 24, 1983

 8th Sunday after Trinity

JT (right)

Eric, one of Roy's friends, wandered into our room at 7am with not a stitch on. Completely naked. Oh we laughed. Later in the bar he told Ally, very loudly, that she looks better in bed. Great fun. Spent the morning with JT and Peter scrubbing and washing in the kitchen. Grease everywhere. A Sir Richard Attenborough look-alike, who stayed over, sat drinking tea and blowing cigarette smoke over me. A disgusting habit. Roy and Marie were also big smokers until 2 years ago. The poor bugger became so short of breath. It is such a treat when the bar closes at 2pm on Sunday. Off until 7. We ate steaks and baked potatoes and snatched a few hours sleep. I went down to the cellar to fiddle with the gas bottles, changed some light bulbs. Roy is very good introducing us gradually to things so not to confuse. He says that by the end of 8 weeks we will be well schooled in pub management.

-=-

Saturday July 23, 1983

Roy: cowboy

 American Day at the Linthorpe with bunting, a band, and masses of people. After breakfast Ally and I decorated the barbecue area with appropriate coloured streamers and then took refuge behind the bar for the duration. Roy wearing a large cowboy hat throughout. Tonight was chaotic. We were mobbed. After closing at 11pm a party commenced for the staff and the usual CID retainers. It went on until 5am. I did not drink to excess, but by the end of the night I was stained from head to foot in beer and muck. We played a boat race in the bar which involved throwing a lot of ale around. I danced with Marie's mum Margaret, who asked why we are having a baby so soon. She went face down after 10 Diet Pils lagers and was taken off to bed. Kieran and JT were in drag. JT was Mary Pickford, the American sweetheart of the silent screen. Hilarious. Much revelry. Ally went up to bed at about 4 and I followed later. Roy was pissed on brandy and ginger ale and was smashing up the place. Raucous. To bed at 5 with a cheese and pickle sandwich. Marie's sister, Mags, very much like Christine Braithwaite.

American Day.

-=-

Friday July 22, 1983

In the bar at the 'Linnie'.

 Hideously busy, but a great experience. Roy and Marie think about Ally and attempt to look after her. What I am attempting to say is that they show consideration. Ally spent the morning in the kitchen and I went on a garden tidying mission.48,000,000 crisp packets, &c. Roy is a bluff, old martinet, but very kind hearted beneath that exterior. Everything he says and does is aimed at helping us in our future career. Every morning as I leave our room the burglar alarm sounds off. It doesn't do this for anybody else. The cook, Jan (who looks more like an Emerald, says Ally) panics every time thinking that the place is burning down and she runs from the kitchen wailing like a banshee. Tomorrow is the Linthorpe 'American Day' extravaganza and the place is done up with US bunting and a stage has been erected in the garden for a band. Steve, the odd job man, is on drums evidently. The atmosphere here is great. Everyone such good friends.

-=-

Thursday July 21, 1983

The Linthorpe.

 Roy is half dead all day and lays flat out sleeping at every available opportunity. He is such a character. Susan is 24 today and after a busy morning at the Linthorpe we phoned our birthday wishes to Guiseley. A pay phone, shovelling in the 10p pieces. Afterwards we sat outside with a drink on the wall and went up to bed to sleep. We were introduced to a barman, John Thatcher or 'JT' as he is known by all. A humorous, red-faced bespectacled guy with an hilariously depraved disposition.  He brings cheer to the place and lowers the tone considerably. To bed early. Done in. 

-=-