Friday August 3, 1979

_. I'm reading more Evelyn Waugh. It's 'Brideshead Revisited' now, and I think the house is based on Castle Howard. Mr Waugh was such a brilliant geezer with a pen. Not really fashionable in the 1970s, but that's probably why I'm drawn to him.

Ally and I decided to stay at home tonight in front of a TV set. Ruby and Arthur stayed in to entertain us. Entertain isn't the word. Ruby's arthritis seemed to put a wet blanker over us all. In order to kill some of the pain in her feet she ceaselessly marches up and down the sitting room, leaning on two sticks and gasping and moaning in the process. Like a wounded animal. Poor Arthur, now 75, says they should never have travelled here.

Edward G. Robinson on the telly.

Hasn't the Queen done well in Zambia? They hail her 'Queen of the World' and everyone is saying how she helped break the ice for Margaret Thatcher, who wasn't getting on very well with Mr Kaunda at the [Commonwealth] conference.  I do wish Jim Rawnsley was the gambling type because I'd take from him every penny he's got on the subject of the monarchy. He says the UK will be a republic by 2000 and that the poor Prince of Wales will never be King. Ludicrous don't you think?

Lynn, Dave, Sue and Peter left for St Ives at about 11:30pm.

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Thursday August 2, 1979

_. Went with Susan, Peter and Ally to Pudsey for Karen and Steve's pre-wedding party at the Pudsey St Lawrence Cricket Club. Ruby and Arthur are at Auntie Hilda's. We went in crocodile fashion from Auntie Hilda's to the cricket club ten minutes away. The club was dull, like a mausoleum. The stewardess paled as we flocked in. I believe one has to be a member to enter that august club.

Karen and Steve seem grotesquely happy and it isn't difficult to become to become very attached to Steve who captures everyone with his boyish spirit. Was drunk by 11pm. We raided a Chinese take-away and went back to St James's Crescent. Home at about 1am.

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Wednesday August 1, 1979

_. Still wet today. It's so-called Yorkshire Day. I refuse to have anything to do with such a parochial celebration. A nauseating white flag is hanging limply over the YP building. It looks as if we have surrendered to one of the larger national newspapers. Have we perhaps under siege from the Morning Star and the Socialist Worker?

The Queen Mother was today installed as the 160th Lord Warden of the Cinque Ports at Dover Castle. I viewed the ceremonial on TV. The gale force winds and driving torrents of rain failed to wipe that beautiful smile from Her Majesty's face. She must have been water-logged. The Queen Mother was accompanied by Prince Edward, Viscount Linley and Lady Sarah Armstrong-Jones. Lady Sarah looked plump and sad, no doubt thinking about her father and new half-sister. The Snowdon's new baby is to be Lady Frances. Princess Margaret, stricken by 'flu, is confined to her cabin on the Royal Yacht Britannia.

Ally is depressed tonight. She went to Club Street with Susan and Peter and returned half an hour later down in the dumps. Sue and Pete had gone on and on criticising the place, pulling it to pieces. Ally, being the person she is took it all to heart.

Karen phoned to say that she and Stephen are having some sort of function tomorrow and would we all like to attend. I said yes, but Susan and Peter made no response. __________.

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Tuesday July 31, 1979

_. Torrential rain. Ally signed for her house on Club Street, and all is going ahead. When I saw the property last Friday I was pleasantly surprised. It seems solid and well cared for. Ally says that the interior is even better and more pleasing to the eye.

Sarah wants me to accompany her to the Grand Theatre next week to see Hamlet. Derek Jacobi is playing the prince. Dad would like to come too, but Mum refuses to entertain the idea. Wild horses wouldn't get Mum to the theatre, unless it was  John Hanson in 'The Desert Song'.

Listened to Jacqueline du Pre, the cellist, playing Beethoven's 'The Ghost'. Bloody awful, Ludwig.

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Monday July 30, 1979

_. I've been sniggering about something that I know you'll find offensive, but I cannot keep it to myself. Ally has been bombarded at work about the whereabouts of the litre bottle of Martini at Friday's party. She is a very honest person and told them that she had taken the bottle home. The Martini was mine to take. I have the receipt and proof that it cost me £4. In any court of law I would be proved the legal owner. Never once did I inform the hostess that the bottle was hers. I had purchased it to consume at the party, and failing to do so I took it home with me. Naughty of me, I know, but can one be arraigned before a magistrate for having bad manners?

The real horror came when Ally had to deny any knowledge of stealing the hideous little Chinese dragon which at this moment is grimacing hideously at me from my bedside cabinet. Why on earth did I take it? Why does anybody actually steal anything? Why did footballer Bobby Moore pinch an apparently worthless bracelet in downtown Bogata at the 1970 World Cup? Such phenomenons do occur.

Obviously, the half bottle of vodka endeared me to the brightly coloured creature, and that's about all I can say on the matter.

Ally thinks I will be haunted by this dragon for ever. We've decided to call him Duncan.

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Sunday July 29, 1979

_. 7th Sunday after Trinity.

Up at almost 1pm. Wait for Ally who was blow drying her hair. At 1:30 we went to meet Susan and Peter at the Halfway House pub and sat in the garden eating potato crisps. They have a grotesque Alsatian dog, who resembles a donkey but with fangs.

Back to Pine Tops at 2:30. We sat in the garden. I find it difficult sunbathing in Yorkshire after being in Ibiza. It just isn't the same.

At 4 John, Maria, JPH and Catherine came. Baby is heavier and more gorgeous. They took baby home at 6 and JPH stayed to tea. He sat on my lap dunking ginger biscuits in my tea. He really can converse on a very intelligent level.

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Saturday July 28, 1979

_. Woke up at 12 noon. Susan says she fancies a day trip to the Yorkshire Dales. We packed the car with everything imaginable and went first down to the Fox at Menston, and then Grassington via Otley, where I refused to rent a tent - it would have cost £6 for one miserable night.

We ate at the Forester's Arms, Grassington and then drank in the Devonshire and the Black Horse. However, we were not really up for alcohol consumption. Ally looked like an ancient mummified Egyptian Queen. None of us showed any enthusiasm.

At 10pm we drove to Pete's cousin's at Foxup Farm, but the relative refused to offer us any accommodation, not even the use of one of her fields, and so we ventured home where I passed into a coma in a chair. The house was full of smoke. The cause of it was Maria the chimney and John.

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Friday July 27, 1979

_. Tonight Ally and I had a drink with Sue and Pete at the Commercial and then went on to Bradford. Peter refuses to drive into Leeds or Bradford, and so Ally drove there in the style of the late Donald Campbell. We were stopped just outside Shipley by an amiable police constable who lectured Ally for ten minutes about motoring at 50 mph in a 30 mph area. He was a decent chap, and let her off with nothing more than a warning.

She took us to view the little house on Club Street, and from there we went on to a house party. Very unimpressed by the other party-goers. Fuddy duddy characters. The majority worked for Bradford Health Authority, and I bet most of them were mortuary staff. I took a litre bottle of dry Martini, but by 4:30am it was there in the kitchen untouched, and so I took it out and popped it into the Spitfire. Is this ethical? I had been hitting the vodka and so my sense of right and wrong had vanished. Oh, and we also came away with a little green Chinese dragon.

We left the party at 5am and went for a paddle in a stream on Ilkley Moor until 8am. Exhaused.

Thursday July 26, 1979

_. Maria's 21st birthday today. We didn't see her. I think John was taking her out for dinner.

Didn't get into the YP until 9:30 and tempers there were frayed. For £45 a week I think I have every right to pinch the occasional hour here and there. Sarah, seeing my depression, gave comforting words. Lynn just needs time, she says. Delia has given me a photo of the two of us at Ivory Towers last September. Sarah says one of Delia's legendary luncheon parties is imminent.

David B came to help Dad and Jim welding on the car. Constantly welding. It baffles me.

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Wednesday July 25, 1979

_. Susan and Peter's engagement party at the R.A.O.B. Club in Otley. Seventy, or so, guests too numerous to mention here and piles of food which lasted until dawn.

Saw Gus and Frank for the first time since January. Dave Wainwright took a fancy to cousin Diane. All the Gadsby family were there in force, of course.

Home at 12. Drank gallons of beer. Played 'pass the carrot' and 'pass the cucumber', and 'pass the can of Brasso', &c. Auntie Hilda laughed until she cried. However, I cannot remember the evening with happiness because of what followed. Lynn had a burst of hysterics like I had never seen before, and stormed out saying she was 'sick to death of this family'. ___________.

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Tuesday July 24, 1979

_. At 7pm went to Ridgeway to see my baby niece Catherine for the first time. Like a tiny doll and perfect in every way. When I held her she opened her eyes and peeped out at me, but only briefly. John had been painting the house and looked like the Abominable Snowman. He never fusses around babies. I think he was the same with JPH. It's not until they toddle around destroying things that he delights in their company. He and Maria had 'fallen out' on Saturday and relations have been strained since - according to Maria - but I'm sure they delight in ceaseless bickering. Jim Senior made some comment about them smashing the bathroom window during one of their tiffs.

At 8:30 I went with a gathering of the Macdonald clan to the Hare & Hounds. Jimmy Jun, Karim, Libby, Maria, John and I. Libby has a tremendous sense of humour. We discussed the film 'Death in Venice'. I quipped: "Isn't that one of Shakespeare's?" The depravity of composers was another topic. Tchaikovsky came off worst, I fear. I told Libby that Grieg had been born in Bradford, and in his youth had worked on the buses, but of course that was Delius. Back to Ridgeway until after 12.

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Monday July 23, 1979

_. Eventually climbed out of bed at about 11am and waited for Garry and Bill. The bar was open but neither Dave or I could face having a drink. Garry came in saying his car is 'off the road', and so Dave offered to drive me home. ___________.

Home by 2pm. Mum looks well. She filled us in with all the news and gossip which took us until about 5pm. Poor little Catherine has a heart defect of some kind - probably a hole in the heart. Maria took both babies to the RC church yesterday at Burley-in-Wharfedale and had them christened. It is a sad thought on which to reflect that my tiny, innocent niece is banned by law from ever becoming Queen of England.

Susan and Peter are having an engagement party at Otley on Wednesday night. Dave G cannot make it.

Billy is shattered by the Ibiza experience and has vowed never to go on holiday with us again. They, the lads, stayed to tea, and left for Stockport at about 7pm.

Ally was particularly shy, and dashed off for a sauna with Sue. Susie's hair is permed again.

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to be continued

Sunday July 22, 1979

_. 6th Sunday after Trinity

The saddest day of the holiday. We hung around the pool for most of the day just waiting to go home. Spending our last few pesetas on booze and ham and cheese toasties. The flies hanging over the hotel are nauseating. We laugh and say that 'Eva Braun' (the manageress) must be breeding them (the flies) in canisters and releasing them from a high balcony onto the distraught holidaymakers. Chat with Anne and Lorraine. They've avoided us for two weeks. Stuck up sods really. I snapped away with my camera like Lord Snowdon in an attempt to use up my film.

Left at 7pm-ish for the airport although we didn't fly until 10. Ate roast beef and carrots at 35,000 ft. Peculiar, eh?

We landed in Birmingham at about midnight and sat amongst the litter and Commonwealth immigrants faced with the knowledge that we were stranded here until about 8am. Billy refused to accept this and hailed a taxi. It cost us £40 from Birmingham Airport to Stockport. "Oh, it's not bad!" exclaimed Dave, as we sat in silence. "It would have cost just as much by train, anyway."

Hit Stockport at 2am. Greeted by Lily and a toothless granddad. Downed three bottles of Coca Cola in the Hollywood bar. Oh God, we're home. Bed at 2:45am.

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Saturday July 21, 1979

_. Sue's twentieth birthday. I attempted to phone home all day but failed miserably. Had difficulties with the international code system and made three calls accidentally to Whitby 4302. From Ibiza to Whitby, just 70 miles out. Poor Sue will wonder what has befallen me. Bless her, she's getting engaged too.

I went into San Antonio and bought a Hawaiian-style shirt for 1400 pesetas. What the Hell anyway?

At 4pm Dave, Janice and I decided to crack open a bottle of gin, several bottles of wine, and a selection of squashes. A miserable sort of birthday party in Susan's honour. Billy and Garry came in and we played 'This is Your Life' and 'Blankety Blank' and other party games. I was Eammon Andrews and Terry Wogan. Dave played Lord Mountbatten in 'This Is Your Life' and Janice shone as Des O'Connor's daughter. You know the one I mean.

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Friday July 20, 1979

_. Knackered all day. Went shopping with Billy. Cut my finger on a pop bottle in one of those abominable Spanish supermarkets. It was Billy's object to buy lots of gifts for his numerous relations at home but on returning to the Galfi he had only purchased forty Embassy cigarettes.

To bed at 3pm until 7, and then out on the town until 3am.

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Thursday July 19, 1979

_. Stayed in San Antonio. Drank vast amounts in the beach bar. Billy left his teeth back at the hotel because they need a good cleaning and he caused a minor sensation parading in the sand in Nicola's sun hat. His sun-tanned gums went down a treat with the naked Swedish girls.

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Wednesday July 18, 1979

_. Today was just a replica of yesterday in almost every detail, but for the fact that I wore different clothes in the evening and Billy failed to do his 'drunken man falling over in the street' routine. The sun shone so very nicely too.

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Tuesday July 17, 1979

_. To the beach in San Antonio. Went out on a pedalo with Billy and Garry. Billy loved it, and was like a small child. He says coming to Ibiza was worth it just for the experience.

OK Coral again. Billy collapsed, yet again. Will he survive the holiday? Forget his 80 year-old mother.

Dave is with Janice (again). She is very pleasant and quickly adapting to David's sense of humour. Poor girl.

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Monday July 16, 1979

_. Last night Garry took the horrible Nicola back to the hotel for a 'knock-off'. Dave escorted Janice. I went to the Chac Mool with some Swedish lads and smoked something which wasn't from a cigarette machine. Very amusing.

Garry was nowhere to be seen this morning and so I accompanied David, Janice and Nicola to Cala Bassa. David, the stupid sod, has fallen in love with Janice. Nicola almost sank the small ferry boat, full of beautiful people.

We found a quiet stretch of beach where I proceeded to sleep on my beach mat. David and Janice disappeared into the bushes. Nicola has thighs reminiscent of the large oak tree in Sherwood Forest where Robin Hood was supposed to have lodged. White too, and slightly more gnarled than Robin's oak. The worst bit was was when she took a dip in the ocean. The Med rose by 6 feet and tidal waves swept the Adriatic coast. _________.

To the OK Coral with the Swedish mob again. Pissed up. Garry's knock-off was Nicola again. How can he?

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Sunday July 15, 1979

_. 5th Sunday after Trinity.

I pissed the bed, like a three year old. I'm not in the least bit embarrassed because if you can't pay £180.70 to piss the bed once a year, when can you?

We stayed around the pool until about 11 and then I went with Garry by ferry to San Antonio where we walked in the harbour before making for a bar and drinking pints for five or six hours. Discussed all manner of things. He says that Billy will kill himself when his aged mother dies. He says Billy is not enjoying the holiday because he cannot keep up with us younger ones. At 40 he's bloody past it.

Back at the Galfi we had just missed a full scale drama. Billy had been thrown, naked, into the pool and as he is unable to swim he caused a major brouhaha. He had been banished to his room by Philip II's ambassador to the Court of St James's. Poor Billy had almost drowned and Dave was close to hysterics.

Tonight we met a couple of new inmates at the hotel - Janice and Nicola, from Snaith near Goole. Janice isn't a beauty, but is pleasant, and Nicola is simply monstrous. We all went out to the Los Gatos together. Billy did his Ian Dury routine and then collapsed. We put him into a taxi and packed him off to the hotel in one Hell of a state. A party of Swedes mistook him for Marty Feldman.

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