Monday July 28, 1980

Dave, Ally and Garry....

_. Up at 8 well in time for breakfast. We walked to the beach near the Hawaii Hotel and spent the day there. Too hot. We took refuge in the safety of a bar. Saw Rick, but he didn't see us.

Back at the Es Pla for 6:30 and we sat in the bar laughing at Pete who killed flies in time to 'Walking on the Moon' by the Police. Fish for dinner - no like.

Bars tonight, include: Los Gatos, Kings Bar, Project Bar, and back to the hotel at 1:30. Dave and Garry went on to Nito's with Rick.

Sue and Pete haven't mentioned the disturbance at the wedding, and neither have we. No point in stirring things up in Ibiza.

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Sunday July 27, 1980

Sue & Pete.

_. 8th Sunday after Trinity

A dark atmosphere this morning. Mum and Dad were in a foul mood, following the fiasco at the wedding, but they did decide to accompany us to Stockport with Lynn & Dave. Sue & Pete arrived from the Cow & Calf but the subject of the bar bill was not touched upon.

At the Project Bar.

Poor Dave G arrived at the wedding covered in spots, obviously a bout of chicken pox, and so his day had been spoiled. He accompanied us back over the Pennines. All to the Hollywood. The two Daves went to the hospital to get something for Glynnie's spots, then on to Manchester Airport. We flew at 3:10pm. How many honeymooners go away with half the wedding guests?

At the Es Pla, San Antonio in time for chicken for dinner. Out at 10 to a new bar, called the Flash Bar, rude songs playing on the Hi Fi. Then to Los Gatos, the Project Bar, until 3am. Sue and Pete disappeared at about 1:30. Pete lost his voice. Here at last.

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Saturday July 26, 1980

_. Muggy day. Susan and Peter married at 2:10pm at St Paul's Church, Esholt. I lost my last sister and am now alone with just my parents in the solitude of the rambling mansion that is Pine Tops.

The usual pre-wedding panic found its way into the afternoon. The fastening on Mum's dress gave way as we climbed into a wedding car, but the bridesmaids, all pink [drinking gin], soon fixed it.

Sue & Pete,

The ceremony and reception went splendidly. Sue was beautiful throughout. Peter was nervous, but both made clear, loud responses to the Rev Calvin Ward. The vicar overdid things somewhat going on about 'discovering the joy in one another'. After seven years what is left to discover?

The food at the Cow & Calf was excellent. Chippy became very loud. Later, in the disco, he ordered lots of drink, wine etc, all on Papa's bill, unbeknown to him, to the tune of £140. Chippy also offended Mrs Brassington, the proprietress, with his 'flowery language'. This breach of protocol rattled my mother and put a cloud over the close of the proceedings.

Home at 12.

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Friday July 25, 1980

_. Hot day. Home from the YP at 5, to a pre-wedding feast. Uncle Bert arrived. So eccentric and vague. John, looking fit and well, arrived and Ally and I went with him to the Regent, in Guiseley, where we met Maria, Hugh and Anne Macdonald, &c. Maria left us to go to Ridgeway at 11:30 to celebrate her birthday. John brought Ally and I home.

A party was in full swing. Sue, Lynn, David B, Bert, Mum and Dad. Pete was absent, having a 'quiet drink' with his best man, Gerald. The whisky and beer flowed out onto the terrace, as the French windows were thrown open due to the heat of the evening. Bert, sitting in a deckchair in the garden, threatening to be sick. He'd just watched Peter Sellers in 'Dr Strangelove' and complained that the experience had adversely affected him. Took some photos, touching ones, of us on Sue's bed, our last night together here.

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Thursday July 24, 1980

_. Awakened at 6:30 to the sound of Ally's exhaust as she blasted down the lane.

To the YP. Sarah informed me that Peter Sellers is dead. This tragic news had a numbing effect on me.

Dave B rang at 11:30 to offer me the loan of £50. I gladly accepted. We met at the Hog's Head for the transaction of this great financial deal. He was very smart, in a dark suit. Bumped into Christine Braithwaite.

At home: wedding fever. Out at 8:30 with Ally to the Fox and then the New Inn. Home at 10:30 to see tributes to Peter Sellers.

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Wednesday July 23, 1980

_. To Parker's at lunchtime with Sarah who needed reassurance with regards to T_____.

Peter Sellers is worse. Sarah and Delia came at 8pm to mess around with wedding flowers. I went to Horsforth with Sarah to collect a hat, as Ally arrived. We were back in 20 minutes or so. Sarah and Delia stayed until about 9:30, and as they left in walked Hilda, Tony, Karen, Steve, Jill, and Tim. Joined by Sue and Pete at 10. They'd been to see Gus's mum to collect a wedding present. 

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Tuesday July 22, 1980

_. Hangover. A hot, muggy day. Felt horrible all day. To the YP until 12 and then came home and packed my suitcase for Sunday and tidied my room in readiness for Uncle Bert's occupation at the weekend. Sat over a salad crunching asprin and wondering why, oh why do I inflict this upon myself.

Heard with great sadness that Peter Sellers has suffered a severe heart attack in London. It seems unlikely that he'll recover from this one. The poor man's downfall has been beautiful women. They [his wives] have all been too young, energetic and beautiful.  Britt Ekland gave him his first hearty attack in '64 and now Lynne Frederick has caused this one. Perhaps the likes of Lady Isobel Barnett or Dame Margaret Rutherford might have proved more beneficial wives. Poor, poor man.

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Monday July 21, 1980

_. Susan's 21st birthday. Sunny. Up at 7 for champagne with Sue in Mum & Dad's room. Mum gave her £21, but I didn't invest her with the camera until later.

To the YP with Jim R, minus his daughter, who has broken up until September.

Back tonight to a party, just our bunch plus the Nasons, Janet Simon and Robert. Something of a knees up. Sue looked radiant. Janet was hideously drunk, which angered Mama. We noshed and drank until about 3am. Ally and I [the survivors] cleared away the debris and carefully washed the Royal Albert china. I polished off the strawberries and cream as I lay in a heap on the floor.

To bed exhausted. Completely knackered.

-=-

Sunday July 20, 1980

_. 7th Sunday after Trinity

Did a bit of painting at West End Terrace, but the undercoat ran out after half an hour or so. Home at 2.

Delia came at 8:30 for a wedding flower discussion with Susan and Mama. She'll do just what she likes when all is said and done. The dogs [something illegible], as did Delia, who laid and lavished her gushing praises upon Papa with the technique of a master bricklayer. 'Oh, you look young enough to be the bridegroom'. She left at almost 10.

I went up to bed and found myself whistling a familiar tune, I think by Lohengrin. Now what was it? Tra la la la, Tra, la la la la la la la.

-=-

Saturday July 19, 1980

_. Saturday. Ally and I went with Lynn and Dave to Comet to buy Sue and Pete's wedding present - a little telly. £80 or thereabouts. A muggy day. Heavy rain too. I do hope that next Saturday is better.

Survivors from the stag party gathered at the Square and Compass. Dave W didn't come because of the state of his face. A very pleasant night. Gerald was positively charming. Debbie has had a great, mellowing influence on the boy. Saw Christine Braithwaite with Frank, her husband of a year. She looked different with a 'Moira Anderson' coiffeur. Marriage does funny things to people. I bet she now collects the avocado plastic buckets we used to joke about.

On afterwards to the 'Green Light' for a spectacular curry. Thank God our stomachs contain a strong solution of hydrochloric acid, eh?

-=-

Friday July 18, 1980

_. Pete's stag night, and Sue's hen night. I went at 7:30 with Dave L to the Shoulder and joined Pete, Chippy, Frank, Dave W, Dave B, Mick Hebden, Flu, John Sumpton, plus a throng of Monobond employees and other anonymous types. Thirty in all. We swilled ale until 11, spilling as much as we drank. A minor spot of violence occurred when Chippy punched Dave W in the mouth over a minor spillage. We all went on to Oakwood, except Dave L. The events at Oakwood I have forgotten. Pete, like something from a fairy tale, slept upon a sofa surrounded by well-made wenches drinking vodka and lime. Home at 2. I think we might now be excommunicated from the Shoulder.

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Thursday July 17, 1980

_. Out with the boys. It was one of Pete's final single Thursdays when all's said and done. To the Shoulder of Mutton with Pete, Chippy, Dave W, and John Sumpton. We went back to Pine Tops after for the finale of the 'Jim and Margaret' night.

We squabbled about the age of Roger Moore, the actor. I claimed that he is almost 60, but on checking with the YP library [that bastion of knowledge] I was told he is only 52.

Wedding fever is upon is. Ding, bloody ding, bloody dong. My mother will miss Susan. The last girl in residence at Pine Tops and the baby of her brood. She [Mum] is to be left alone with Dad and I. Not a pretty thought.

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Wednesday July 16, 1980

_. To West End Terrace. Uneventful and boring. Not feeling prolific. Sorry it's short. Too busy.

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Tuesday July 15, 1980

_. Spent the morning from 10:15 watching the Queen Mother's birthday celebrations in London, on the BBC. She looked radiant and outshone all else at St Paul's. Nobody will ever replace the Queen Mother in our affections. She's unique. It annoyed me that the broadcaster Tom Fleming insisted on referring to the Prince of Wales as 'her favourite grandchild'. How does he know? The royal spectacular ended at 1:15 with a balcony appearance at Buckingham Palace where the jovial crowd sang 'For She's a Jolly Good Fellow'.

Ally and I went afterwards to the Fox to meet Mum and Dad who had collected Lynn and Dave from the airport at Yeadon. Both are beautifully tanned, but David has come back with a cold. Back at Pine Tops we had fish and chips, and afterwards opened a bottle of Cointreau. We drank the whole bottle.

Dad looked decidedly pale and took to his bed in the late afternoon. Ally and Lynn gave us a fashion show and paraded around in their bridesmaid dresses.

-=-

Monday July 14, 1980

_.Bastile Day

I'm going to be brief. Painted at West End Terrace again. Ally joined in the glossing marathon. The kitchen is almost finished and the house, at last, is nearly ready for habitation.

At home our TV is going funny. It's only a week old.

Ian Appleyard, my old schoolfriend, is 25 today. I recall a July 14 about ten years ago when Mr G.P. Illingworth, the headmaster at Guiseley Secondary School, asked the morning assembly what occurred of importance on this day in history. Amidst roars of laughter Ian put his hand up and said: 'yes, it's my birthday, Sir'.

Old Percy had wanted someone to say that upon this day in 1789 the revolting peasants stormed the Bastile, which triggered the French Revolution.

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Sunday July 13, 1980

_, 6th Sunday after Trinity

Up at 9:30. The house guests had been up since day break. Charlotte was half way through an Agatha Christie novel. Beef spread sandwiches and orange juice for breakfast.

We took leave of Mr & Mrs Smith and Ally went off to a shift at the Belfry, and I returned to Pine Tops. I had a second, more traditional breakfast, at home with Mum & Dad, Sue & Pete.

Went to paint at West End Terrace. A brown kitchen. Home at 6 looking like Larry Parks did when playing Al Jolson. Brown paint everywhere. Had pork for dinner. Ally did an evening shift at the Belfry. A little Trojan, she is.

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Saturday July 12, 1980

_. Bank Holiday in Ireland - a day may be given in lieu

Up at 9. A hot bath. Breakfasted with Mum and Dad. Ally came at 11 and carried me off to York, that seething, crumbling hole of a city. Graham and Charlotte are not drunks, like some people I know, and so we had only the one drink in a very busy pub packed with Japanese and West Germans, weighed down with cameras and bags crammed with cheap British goods. It may have been a splendid place in the eighteenth century, but the advent of the motor car has killed any desirability. Shopped all afternoon, and bought Sue a camera for her 21st. Graham dragged Charlotte away to the National Railway Museum, and Ally and I returned to Club St. They joined us at 6 and we had a large dinner, steak, salad, strawberries, cream, cheese and biscuits, washed down with Graham's wine. We afterwards played a dreadful board game, the name of which sounds chinese [Mahjong].

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Friday July 11, 1980

_. The Alexandra Palace has been destroyed by fire. Such a pity. I recall a beery afternoon in the sun there at the 'Ally Pally' ale festival with Jacq & Trixie in the summer of '78. Has Trixie dropped a fag there in one of her drunken sessions?

Up at 7 for breakfast with Ally, Graham and Charlotte. Just toast and tea. I went into the office, by the usual express coach. A dismal atmosphere prevailed. I received the Ayatollah's blessing to take Tuesday as a day off to observe the Queen Mother's 80th birthday celebrations on my TV screen. The pageant is to take place at St Paul's Cathedral with processions, bunting, pearls, and emotion, &c. Ally is joining us.

Spent the evening until after 9 painting at West End Terrace, and afterwards went with Sue, Pete and Janet Simon to the Shoulder and the New Inn. Janet is beautifully tanned after her French holiday. However, she loathed the resort [unnamed] and likened it to Morecambe. Home after 11 reeking of nicotine.

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Thursday July 10, 1980

_. Over to Lidget Green at 5 in the busy traffic to dine with Ally. First we had to go shopping to Morrison's for provisions. To Mucky Willies, attached to the Coach House, at 8:30, just for one drink because neither of us were enthusiastic. Ally complained of feeling sick. Back to Wildfell Hall [sic] for lager and music. I sat reading Kenneth Grahame's 'Wind in the Willows', my eyes drifting to the clock. As the hour chimed 12 a Triumph Spitfire came to a halt outside and Mr and Mrs Graham Smith alighted onto the doormat. The four of us drank tea and exchanged six months of tittle tattle before we retired.

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Wednesday July 9, 1980

_. The Royal papist marriage shock horror continues.

Sarah is going to the island of Rhodes in September with Trevor, the computer programmer chappie who seems to have captured her heart of late.

Sent a trilogy of letters to Ally, one on the subject of Peter the Hermit, a spiritual leader of the First Crusade who died July 8, 1108. He led a vast band from France to Constantinople, then on to Jerusalem, slaughtering and pilaging en route, and all in the name of Christianity.

TV tonight: 'Coronation Street' was fascinating. No other news to report.

-=-