Monday November 5, 1984

 Chillandham Cross, Itchen Abbas

Sunshine. Graham and Gill were up and off at 9. Gill to the Isle of Wight and Graham to Wimbledon and his latest suspended ceiling project.  

Salisbury Cathedral.

After hours of deliberation we went to Salisbury to show Sammy that fine ecclesiastical erection, but he slept throughout. The shops are the same as in Winchester, only fewer. Back for afternoon tea and 'Dallas' repeats on the telly. Received a cheque for £200 from John for the Lanzarote holiday. Good. I sent him a cheque back for £36.50. We sat tonight and ate stew with Bessie. Frank is on business in Guernsey until tomorrow. Ally's mood is better, thank God.

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Sunday November 4, 1984

 Chillandham Cross, Itchen Abbas

20th Sunday after Trinity

Ally is angry about her Mum and Dad's attitude. It seems that they make such a fuss over visitors from France and Frank's associates, but when family turn up they carry on almost as if we are invisible. Frank spends a lot of time in his office. I try helping by saying this is the way they are, but it doesn't really pacify her. Graham and Gill, I think a bit tetchy that the dog has been banished, went off to see Michael Lynn. I sat sneezing and gasping on the sofa reading the Sunday papers. 

Lady Joanna Knatchbull married her French baron yesterday in the presence of HM and Prince Edward. Recently, the Hon Michael-John Knatchbull, son of the Brabournes, became engaged to Melissa Owen, a judge's daughter.

Graham and Gill came back later. They went to join Michael Lynn at the Baker's Arms, but we didn't join them and were in bed by 10:30. 

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Saturday November 3, 1984

 Chillandham Cross, Itchen Abbas

The River Itchen.

A rotten day. Bright, but nippy. Up at dawn because Samuel hadn't slept soundly and instead of lounging in front of the TV watching Mrs Gandhi's funeral pyre Ally decided we should go in to Winchester. I tried to stress that a world leader is not cremated in public every Saturday morning. She just sniffed her indifference. To town we went leaving Samuel in the capable hands of Grandmama. We went and bought Matthew a pullover and returned to see the smoke engulfing the VIPs in Delhi. The PM and Princess Anne sat together. Much maligned women, they are. Out in the sun with Samuel. We pushed him down to the river, walked through Easton and back to Chillandham Cross. Graham and Gill arrived after 12 and I was immediately incapacitated by Tara the dog and went into a bronchil attack which lasted for the duration. I was so bad that by 3pm I took paracetamol and took to my bed. The poor dog was banished to the utility room. We dined on turkey, which I didn't enjoy, and went to the Plough afterwards where I wheezed and gasped over everyone. Drank brandy alternating with pints of lager. Saw Neil. We haven't laid eyes upon him since he crashed through the garden fence after a surfeit of pernod in 1979. He is a rugby player. Today is Graham's birthday, but you wouldn't think so. Very low key.

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Friday November 2, 1984

 Chillandham Cross, Itchen Abbas

I got up with Samuel at 7 and took him down and gave him a Weetabix and toast which he ate with gusto. He did pick out the chunks of orange peel from the marmalade. Frank is a funny old boy. He was going about his chores very quietly. I see where Ally derives much of her character. I played with Samuel for a couple of hours and he attempted to vandalise the settee, pulling at the velvet buttons. At 9:30 I took Ally her morning tea and persuaded her to get up from beneath her sweaty, cornnflower blue quilt. She is done in. ______. 

To Winchester shopping. Tonight we went out in the dark and rain looking terribly scruffy to Alresford and the Horse & Groom. I had a trout and Ally a game pie, and we sat in a dark corner making observations about the clientel. Then to the Bush at Ovington, and the Plough at Itchen Abbas where we were the sole occupants of the lounge bar, laughing at the landlord.

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Thursday November 1, 1984

 Chillandham Cross

Itchen Abbas, Winchester

A beautiful day for the time of year, don't you think? No, seriously. It;s shirt sleeve weather in Winchester. We went out this morn with our son and heir to inspect the old cathedral town (sic). Book shops are my favourite. We combed the town without success for a volume entitled 'Alphabears'. We spent £12.50 on a plate for Bessie, and I laid hands on a 1985 journal (£3.50), &c. Samuel, clad in a white woollen suit, slept for 2 hours. What an angel the boy is. How lucky we are. We returned for lunch and ate in the kitchen on the new pine. Samuel spluttered his mince everywhere. Bessie had put salt in the concoction. We had salad.

This afternoon to Alresford where we pushed Samuel by the river to let the ducks look at him. He was, yet again, at his slumbers. Alresford crawls with aristocrats. At least we had a blast of fresh country air. How pleasant it is not to have to stick to a timetable. 

Tonight: F & B dined out. We put the bear to bed and ate chops and watched TV which was abysmal. Samuel decided to wake up and we spent an hour getting him back to sleep. We had a restless night. I got up with Samuel at dawn.

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Wednesday October 31, 1984

 5, Club St, Lidget Green, Bradford

Hallow'een

Up with the larks on this bright, autumnal morn. Bacon sandwiches again, and hot baths. Switched on the news to hear that Mrs Gandhi has been assassinated by her Sikh bodyguards. I do feel sorry. The poor Queen must have liked her because the monarch's recent meeting with Mrs G dominated her Christmas message last yuletide in a most uncomfortable manner. Princess Anne is in Delhi now and is staying for the funeral bonfire on Saturday. I suspect that many people think that Mrs Gandhi is related to that tiny bald person with the loin cloth who featured in a recent Attenborough epic. However, from New Delhi to Winchester.

Chillandham Cross

We left Bradford at 10 and picnicked on a Northamptonshire housing estate at 12. Samuel with cheese sandwiches and chocolate. He behaved beautifully in the car. Near Oxford we met Frank and Bessie in the Mercedes returning from Anne Rayner's, and we drove on together. Very odd. Such mild weather in Hampshire. Just sat and did nothing tonight. We presented them with a portrait of Samuel , and it now adorns the TV set. Mrs Gandhi dominates the news, and the Indian riots make such a change from Arthur Scargill.

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Tuesday October 30, 1984

 5, Club Street, Lidget Green, Bradford

Club Street.

A wet, but jolly day. we were up at 7 but took Samuel into our bed and played a while until bacon sandwiches and tea. Ally had forgotten to pack pans, but we managed. Rain. We went to Heaton to see Catherine Alderson, whose child is due on Nov 15. We have decided she'll have a girl. _____. The Alderson's live in a house that looks like Cavendish Woodhouse's shop window. Afterwards we drove to Haworth and ate fish and chips in the rain and went around inspecting the various pub menus. Samuel's pushchair buried behind the heavy plastic rain cover, and he looked to be in an oxygen tent. He slept soundly. We didn't bump into any of the Brontës. They are such unassuming sisters. Haworth is always overrun by damp oriental types with very large cameras.

John and Janette came tonight with £80 for Lanzarote and say the remainder will follow by post to Hampshire. We are not convinced. If I receive a cheque  from John this week then I'm Neil Kinnock.

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Monday October 29, 1984

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds

Dawn rise. In the bath like a rhinoseros at the zoo. Mick Thompson (stocktaker) and Richard Tully (relief manager) arrived simultaneously. A quick stocktake showed a £5 surplus and after giving the disinterested Mr Tully a run-down of our business we went off to Bradford leaving Maureen, who is to be the cook in our absence. We have no recriminations about taking a three week break and fully intend forgetting the Moorhouse Inn for the period.

We collapsed at Club Street at 2 after unpacking the heaped car. Samuel, snoring in the back, buried in luggage. We looked like refugees. We came home via the clinic because he was due a jab, but because of his cold this is now delayed until Nov 21. We unpacked. Watched 'Dallas' (repeat) and a Charles Laughton film. To bed indecently early. Samuel finds Club St a huge joke nand giggled as he crawled around investigating. We are going to have some fun.

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Sunday October 28, 1984

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds

British Summer Time ends

19th Sunday after Trinity

A day of ferocious activity. Ally likes to have everything spotless when we go on holiday and so she went about like a galley slave from dawn until dusk. Samuel and I had to endure the constant noise of the vacuum cleaner. We went to Club Street at 5 taking Sam's cot to erect it there. Tonight he slept in the bed with us. It is, thankfully, a very roomy bed. Can hardly believe we go on holiday tomorrow. Never have I looked forward for one so much. I have never seriously worked anywhere until I came here, you see. The YP was a holiday in itself. Bed very late but the place is like a new pin.

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Saturday October 27, 1984

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds

Our Halloween party. Quite a good response. Edna came as a brilliant witch. Kevin - the Hunchback of Notre Dame. John didn't come, but Marlene, ,Frank, Jacq, Jill, Tim, Sam Rhodes Snr, all did. I was Count Dracula, and Ally a particularly scruffy witch. Busy. Ran around all night with my plastic cape flapping. No more. Please see the appropriate photo album. Bed at 2am, but then the clocks go back.

(Photos to follow)

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Friday October 26, 1984

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds

Samuel is right as rain. We are still shaken though. Ally stayed upstairs cleaning tonight in readiness for the relief manager Richard Tully, who first came here years ago. Sam Rhodes Snr, returned tonight. He filled me in on ten years of family history. He says he is not a schizophrenic, but manic depressive. He married a girl called Christine in February, 1981, who grew from a size ten to a size twenty in as many months. She had herself sterilized, behind his back, and then took off to the divorce courts. My Uncle Harry is still with us, and living in Whitehaven, and according to Sam he doesn't drink quite as much as he did. Cousin Megan lives in the Dordogne, in South west France, with lover Roy. She hasn't worn shoes since 1973 (he says) and lives the life of a vegetarian farming peasant. Mavis lives in Ripon. Cousin Helen is in a home in Harrogate. Edward lived with a lady, fathered a child, and lost them both and is cut up about it. David is doing well in the United States, an 'American tycoon' says his brother. Lawrence is with the Leeds Permanent Building Society, a deputy manager in Middlesbrough, married with a daughter Alicen Frances Rhodes. Sam puts his 'insanity' down to a thwarted love affair in his teens, and we discussed everything from family, education, ancient Greece, and poetry. Bernie cast him funny looks and thought Sam might be a gipsy. Samuel has so much intelligence but his life is in ruins. Things look bleak for him. He will be 34 next month.

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