Thursday February 2, 1984

 Chillandham Cross, Itchen Abbas

River Itchen at Martyr Worthy.

The Rhodes family on holiday at Martyr Worthy. The three of us. Samuel was fed at about 6am and then slept until after 10. Poor Bessie didn't get up and was in her bedroom. A sunny, bright and crisp day. The south is always so mild after the wilds of bleak Bradford. By the time we've had a cooked breakfast and changed the baby eighteen times it was 2pm. I feel 'heady' with a creeping sore throat. We bundled Samuel up and pushed him down the lane to the river but turned round because of the mud and walked down the road to Itchen Abbas. A house on the site of the old derelict railway station is called 'Beeching' - no doubt after Lord Beeching, who closed the place down, and by this act of vandalism, brought about the construction a new housing estate. Saw Mrs Bullock driving around feeding the 'Over 60s'. She didn't recognise us. Back to Ch. Cross after an hour. Bessie was slumped in a chair with her knitting. Log fire, deep velvet chairs, &c. Baby bathtime. Samuel cried like a lamb throughout the hair washing but was stunned to silence on entering the water. Bessie took photos of him splashing. We dined on grilled braising steak because Bessie went to the freezer without her specs and picked up the wrong meat. Tough. Washed nappies. David Attenborough on the telly. News: Mrs Thatcher goes to Budapest draped in furs looking like Catherine the Great or Zsa Zsa Gabor. Bed at 12.

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Wednesday February 1, 1984

Chillandham Cross.

 5, Club St, Lidget Green, Bradford

New Moon

6:00am chorus. Very good because Samuel went through the night with no feed. Pots of tea and the radio. My hair is sticking out all over and I have decided to have it taken away. Rain. We pushed Samuel over the road to the church hall and have him weighed at the clinic and an MOD inspected his knees, which click. This is nothing to worry about. He weighs 8lb 9oz. Ally was quite revolted at the size of some of the other babies. Great fat things with thighs like legs of pork in a butcher's shop. Samuel is so pleasantly proportioned. At 10:30 I walked down to have my hair cut but the place was closed. Got soaked to the skin and stamped around in puddles. I dislike having my plans thwarted and I stormed home. When Samuel slept Ally went to Vallances and ordered a new washing machine and dryer for £24.75 a month. Not bad. We packed in a disorganised fashion. In fact I didn't pack at all. That sort of thing is Ally's department. Set out to Winchester at 3 and arrived at 7:30. Samuel slept until Oxford and wailed from then on. Heart rending to hear him crying with hunger in the back. We found Bessie full of cold and looking ghastly. Neither she or Frank touched the baby because of it. We ate pork chops and watched TV. Looked at photographs. Hasn't the baby changed in three weeks. It's frightening. He'll soon be a rebellious teen with green hair, sniffing solvent adhesives and sleeping around. To bed at 12.

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Tuesday January 31, 1984

 5, Club Street, Lidget Green

2:50am. Samuel was chattering like a cheetah, or the chimps in those Johnny Weissmuller 'Tarzan' epics. I got up to look at him and he was sucking his mittens with great concentration. Pots of tea, &c. To knock Samuel out I continued with the Windsor saga and he dropped off somewhere after George VI's coronation and the emergence of the Hitler threat. Much more interesting than stuff about three bears. Went back to bed for a few hours. At breakfast time I went out and bought a fresh loaf and a newspaper. Slippery under foot. We messed around until after 12 changing, feeding, then changing again. I sat with Elizabeth Longford's book. Eventually we put the pram in the car and went into town where we inspected washing machines and pine beds (£180 at Cheap 'n Cheerful). Ally inspected the bed and I stayed in the street pushing Samuel around in his pram. Negotiating snow drifts is something of a military exercise. We arrived home at 4 to find Harry and Marian Miller driving into the street behind us. They came in for a cup of tea but Samuel screamed with hunger. He had been patient all afternoon. The Millers were drivern out after half an hour. Harry almost talking to himself about a pub near Eggborough Power Station. We later phoned our mothers. We're going to Winchester tomorrow after clinic and to Horton on Tuesday Feb 7. Ally phoned the Moorhouse and asked if we can store some furniture there on Sunday Feb 12. The Piries said yes. They are flogging the microwave oven for £125. A bit steep? Cottage pie. Watched 'Dallas' and the news. Ronald Reagan is to run again as expected. His only rival is Fritz Mondale, but he'll get back in. That's a cert. Bed at 11. The little boy slept from midnight but seemed to be having nightmares twitching and flinching in his cot.

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Monday January 30, 1984

 5, Club Street

Auntie Mabel and Samuel.

4am rise. Pots of tea. __________. Slept until 8 and then decided we really must visit the Moorhouse Inn today and so I went down and phoned Michael Pirie. No breakfast and instead we packed the slumbering child into the car and drove to Leeds eating biscuits en route. We couldn't find the pub although we could see the blocks of flats nearby. We found the Piries in a state of chaos - half packed. We met a vague Irish cleaner and saw Audrey ('a first class barmaid' according to Chris Wills). They took us upstairs for coffee  and Pirie gave us a run down again of the trouble he's had in two years. Not bad at all when one thinks of the Why Not. The dogs and cats sat licking their lips (if they actually have lips?) at Samuel's pram which we placed on a table midst the potted palms and Victoriana. I do not trust cats with babies. I have seen too many Hitchcock thrillers. We left at 12. Should we buy the Pirie's microwave which they paid £169 for in September? How much should we pay them? Home at 1. We all fed. We had a full-English. Rain. Then back to Pudsey. Mabel was out and so we went to Marlene's. She was out too. So we went to Jill's. Tim is in London. Samuel made a dive for Jill's bossom. Back to Mabel's at 5. Samuel was crying with hunger. We stayed for half an hour and auntie cuddled him so tightly that she almost squeezed the life out of him. We promised to return next week. Home at 6. Fish fingers. Bed at 10. No TV.

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Sunday January 29, 1984

 5, Club Street

4th Sunday after Epiphany

3:45 again. I stepped out to inspect my growing progency, who patiently awaited his morning repast. I went down to wash nappies and crept around. Greater love hath no man .....

Talked of visiting Auntie Annie in Colne eager to get out and about with our beady eyed angel. The thaw is here and we feel sure that the roads over the border will be passable now. I cooked a full-english (breakfast) which Ally moaned about because I fried with the kitchen window wide open. Margaret Nason phoned to say that Christopher has mumps and saw an emergency doctor in the night. Ally phoned Sue to sympathise and spoke to the invalid who told her he has 'umps'. 

Auntie Annie with Samuel and Ally.

At 1pm we set off to Colne in a burst of sunshine. I sat in the back of the car like a nanny next to my well-wrapped issue. We got to Auntie Annie's at about 2 and Samuel immediately squealed until he was fed and changed. Ally fed Samuel in Uncle Bert's downstairs bedroom. We had soup and sandwiches. I questioned Annie about the Dixon lineage and she went away to find old family photos and certificates. She came back from the loft covered in dust and with her father's birth certificate (a copy dated 1905) which was in three pieces and like the Dead Sea Scrolls. Thomas Dixon was born on July 13 1890, registered by his father who signed with a mark being unable to write. he was born at Sherfin Side, Henheads, Haslingden, son of Thomas Dixon, farmer and stone quarrier, and of Mary Dixon formerly Ashworth. Ally's grandpa's birth was registered Aug 27 1890. So, Ashworth is another branch to contend with. She showed us Great Auntie Ellie's death certificate too. She was born a Jobling and was found dead by Annie on March 24 1973. Poor Uncle Bert sat in his armchair like a lump of cheese, but he spoke much better than on previous occasions. We took our leave after 5 and jouneyed home the picturesque way through Haworth in the dark, Ally shouting for Heathcliff over the moorland road.  We sat with more sandwiches and pots of tea and watched a Richard Burton film The Medusa Touch. Quite good. Bed at 11. I nursed Samuel until he dropped off and instead of telling him all about Goldilocks and the Three Bears I recounted to him the tragedy of the Abdication Crisis of 1936 which soon knocked him out. Read the Queen Mother by Elizabeth Longford and lights went out at midnight.

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Saturday January 28, 1984

 5, Club Street

Baby was awake at 3:45 and was immediately fed by his saint of a mother. I went down to brew tea coughing as I went, rasping like George V might have done at Bognor Regis. Back to bed until 10am. Ally woke me shouting from the bathroom to tell me the phone was ringing below. It was John, who said he is heading to Bradford to go to Wickes, a nauseating DIY centre close by. He appeared with Janette at 11 and we had tea together, before going off to buy wooden doors and brass handles. I bought an interior mirror for Mandy Metro - £1.90. Janette says she is in love with Martyn Cole and has dreams about him. Much laughter. Home at 12:30. Ally wore jeans for the first time since last May or June. Janette made some tuna sandwiches and we had slurps of alcoholic refreshment listening to the (Rolling) Stones. John and Janette left at 4 squabbling, but not seriously. Janette's sister and brother-in-law are arriving and apparently John knew nothing about it. We had an omelette and listened to Radio 4. It was Princess Michael of Kent on 'Desert Island Discs'. She has a beautifully gushing personality and is obsessed with our feline friends. Supremely aristocratic. In comparison Princess Anne is like Rita Webb. I stayed up until 1am watching Peter Cushing in one of his hopeless films. I read too. Ally and Samuel departed at 10:30.

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Friday January 27, 1984

 5, Club St, Lidget Green, &c

Samuel stirred at 6am which was good. By the time he was fed and clad in yellow garb it was 7:45 and Terry Wogan was mouthing at us over the radio. A pile of photos arrived - the first of Samuel and we gleefully scanned through them.

A definite thaw and the street is dripping. A fog too. After breakfast of poached eggs a fat health visitor arrived. She has a pathologicl hatred of christian names being shortened. She told us that her husband is 'Kenneth' and anyone who calls him 'Ken' soon knows never do it again. She hissed. She discussed 'family planning' but Ally shrugged it off saying she has discussed this with Dr Duck. (Gynaecological redaction). The fat woman stabbed Samuel in the ankle and took a blood sample and then removed his clothes and inspected him like a skinned rabbit. His knees made a noise when she manipulated them. I thought the noise was the melting snow splashing on the window. No worries though. Ally goes to the clinic on Wednesday.

Bingley.

After lunch we wrapped Samuel in white woollies and piled the pram into the car and and went off in the damp mist to Bingley. Yes, Samuel's first outing. We spent an hour trying to park the car in a snow-free spot and we walked in the slush to the shops. Bought pork chops, butter, &c. Ally was whacked. Back at home we ate the chops and baked two cakes - chocolate and coffee. Watched a St Trinian's epic starring the late, great, unsurpassable Joyce Grenfell. Ageless humour. Baby was starving and we blamed the fresh, Bingley air. The house was hot like a greenhouse and I stripped down to my underwear. Bed fairly early.

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Thursday January 26, 1984

 5, Club St, Lidget Green, &c

Fresh snow has fallen. Samuel fed at 3:30am and then slept until 8. I left Ally feeding and went out to buy a fresh loaf and newspapers. At 8:30 I began shovelling snow until noon to make a track for the car. The fat woman from across the road helped and we joyfully met in the middle. A 'know all' passing by told me that our house walls are 'bellying' and that the people buying Mrs Greenwood's house are unhappy about it. ______. Sat with blistered hands with my boiled eggs and toast soldiers (or Gurkhas, as I call them). 

We have a letter from Whitbread's thanking us for our application. They request our presence at an interview on February 1. We must have written to them in March last year, and this is our first communication from them.

Samuel was 'flat out' until 5 o'clock and I took phots of him in his chair. He is two weeks old today. 

Tardis: destroyed

News: Ronald Reagan has given his 'state of the union' address. Will he run again, that is the question? By the end of a second term in office he'll be 78. Old really. But look at Churchill. He battled on into his 80s. Walter Mondale looks like a 'wet'. At 6 Ally went to sleep flat out on the floor. Both my loved ones slumbering. Mum phoned from snow-bound Horton-in-Ribblesdale. They have had some beautifully coloured birds in their garden. Like parrots, she said. Dad has been in the bushes with his camera like David Bellamy attempting to capture the beautiful plumage on film. _________. 

Sometghing awful has just happened (7:05pm) - the 'tardis' on Dr Who has been destroyed. I feel sick inside. This event is equal only to the loss of the Titanic and the abdication of Edward VIII.

Up to bed with Samuel at 10:30, and he slept an hour later. I am reading a hideous book 'Royal Lists' by Craig Brown and Lesley Cunliffe. Terrible.

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Wednesday January 25, 1984

 5, Club Street, Lidget Green, Bradford

Ally and I were awake at 8 but Samuel didn't stir. I went out to inspect the snow before breakfast and went to the shops, forgetting what it was I was supposed to be buying. Senile dementia probably. More snow fell in the night and my digging yesterday was wiped out. I watched Mary across the road falling flat down in the snow. She emerged looking like a clown. Toast with Ally. She now fits into her jeans. Ally phoned Catherine Alderson who knows of our baby news having seen the white nappies blowing on the washing line. ___________. We have heard nothing from Lynn since she came last week. Today I made no attempt to move the snow which is piling up outside. Bad of me really because I sat watching the old age pensioners on the street sliding around. I sometimes think we are the only residents of Club St under the age of 84.

Ally quite beautiful today. Her pre baby figure has returned with a speed we didn't think possible. She was upset when Samuel cried - genuinely upset. I told her the boy is in no pain. Isn't crying just a baby's way of communicating?

David Watts came at 5 and we gave him dinner. He is another one who doesn't touch infants. Jean is having dizzy spells and Hannah is undergoing numerous blood tests. Sounds grim. We had a lasagne and jacket potatoes. Is it etiquette to devour the jacket? I always do. We drank elderberry wine '83 - excellent, but strong. David brought two family bibles but they didn't reveal much. Ally went to bed at 10:30 and I watched Clint Eastwood in Magnum Something or Other.

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Tuesday January 24, 1984

 5, Club Street, Lidget Green, Bradford

Still, deep snow. Ally prodded me at 6:30. Samuel had slept since 11:30 last night. What a good boy he is. Ally 'topped and tailed' the infant and I went down with buckets of filthy nappies to wash them and make pots of tea and biscuits. Plunged into a hot bath. Boiled eggs for breakfast. Ally came down in red dungarees and yellow shirt carrying our wide-eyed heir. They sat on the settee listening to Ella Fitzgerald. Samuel particularly enjoys 'Manhattan'. Heavily wrapped I went out into the thaw, well it certainly looks like a thaw. Everything dripping and too bright and clear for further snow. I bought a newspaper and squelched around digging out the car from its white grave. I had to borrow a spade from Mary. She talked about 1947 like old people do whenever snow is lying on the ground. 

Tubby slept in his cot, and Ally, flat out on the floor, slept. I watched an awful 1940s film. Baby woke and I nursed him. I find his face quite fascinating. I phoned Dave Glynn. He laughed at the name Sam. 

We had chicken stew at 5:30. Dumplings - the lot. The TV was diabolical and for some reason we lost Channel 4. Must be the weather. Ally phoned David Watts who was just back from visiting Jean and baby Hannah. They had a real old heart to heart which isn't usually Ally's style.

Ally was tired tonight. We went up to bed at 11. This is Samuel's time to let rip. We messed with him until after 12. I feel shattered too. This father lark isn't all pipe and slippers and mint imperials. Dear me, no. According to 'today's birthdays' in the D.Telegraph Lord Spencer was 60 yesterday, and again today. In fact the earl's birthday is today.

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Monday January 23, 1984

 5, Club Street, Lidget Green, Bradford

The baby whimpered at 4:30 and our early morning ritual was thrown into operation. Samuel is like a hamster with brown beady eyes and pink sagging cheeks. I can see that he is filling out already and has achieved this with nothing but his mother's milk. You must be getting sick of this constant baby banter. 

We did not eat until noon. I had the usual egg and bacon but Ally stuck to toast and complained about the aroma from my frying. She opened the windows even though snow is lying deep outside. I spied sherpas on Necropolis Rd. 

We signed our management agreement and copies. It's like the Treaty of Versailles, or whatever it was they signed at the end of World War 1. Wrote to Bessie and my aunt Annie in Bramley. She is my only surviving great-aunt and is 79. I battled on out for a newspaper and was knee-deep in snow. I wore the tweed flat cap I found whilst walking home from Blackpool in '78 and look like Capt Phillips, minus the sturdy beast ( I am not referring to Princess Anne either). Nothing much in the (Daily) Telegraph. Rumblings about the Queen's recent speeches sparked off by criticisms from Enoch Powell. I must admit I found the last Queen's Christmas message peculiar. Did I say so at the time? Indira Gandhi was the star attraction. I cannot identify with the so-called Commonwealth. A collection of murderous banana republics of exceedingly dubious allegiances and led, in the main, by _______ who think they are either Napoleon Bonaparte or Che Guevara. No, my Queen, stick to concentrating upon us in Bradford and forget your territories beyond the seas. They are largely awash with discontent.

Phoned the Moorhouse and said we'd go on Thursday hopefully.

News: The Earl of Warwick is deceased in Rome. Tea prices are rocketing. (Tony) Benn will get Chesterfield. Horrendous.

Chick salad at tea time. David Watts phoned at 5:35 to say Jean gave birth to a baby girl weighing 5lb 12oz at 3:20am today but that poor Jean is weak and has lost more blood than she should have. She only went into labour until 11pm last night and didn't tell David until it was too late and he missed the birth by 10 minutes. The infant is probably going to be called Hannah. Mum phoned at 7 o'clock. They are snow bound at Horton. She had a phone call last night from great-auntie Annie and told her our news. This always happen when I write. Samuel was niggly tonight and we didn't sleep until 11:30. We sat reading in bed and giggling ... like you do.

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