Friday September 26, 1980

_. Up at 9. Our departure for Scotland was delayed for an hour or so. Sue, Pete, Lynn & Dave arrived and we packed the cars. Those who like meddling under cars did so. Off to Scotland at 11.

We had a lunch break at Whoop Hall, near Kirkby Lonsdale, left there at 2, and arrived at Lochans at 6. We ate, drank and made merry in the caravan until after 9 and then we went to the local pub in Lochans [name forgotten] leaving Mum and Dad with the children.

JPH seems almost school-worthy, but Catherine hasn't changed since we saw her in the Spring, and she shuffles around on her diminutive rear.

The cottage is marvellous, and almost ready for habitation. I do not know how they can stand it in the confined, claustrophobic space of the caravan.

Lynn announced her pregnancy.

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Thursday September 25, 1980

_. John is 24. He phoned and sounded genuinely grieved at the loss of the Spitfire. It was his originally, and it holds memories for him dating back to the last summer of his freedom in the steaming swelter of '75.

I dashed from the YP and into the sunshine this evening feeling elated. The place is oppressive and constricting and I haven't had a decent break since the Ibiza fortnight. Pay day too. So looking forward to seeing John, Maria and the dear children.

Lynn: the smoking has ceased.

Ally came at 8, weighed down with luggage in readiness for the Scottish fling. Hilda and Tony were supposed to come too but backed out at the last minute. Tony cited the plumbing at Mabel's flat as an excuse. Joined by Jim, Margaret, Lynn and Dave. Lynn now drinks only very moderately. The smoking also ceased before her pregnancy because she's seen reports that children are born under developed when born to mothers who smoke regularly in pregnancy. Wise of her.

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Wednesday September 24, 1980

_. Hungover, but soon recover thanks to Shazzo's Paracetamol tablets. Drank dark, murky coffee from the machine and attempt to recall last night's movements. Spoke to Ally, also feeling diabolical.
[She brought me as far as Rawdon in Charles at 8. I couldn't face Jennie in my frail condition].

Robert III.

Spent the day researching Lady Diana's family tree. I have found one common ancestor for both Lady Diana and the Prince of Wales. You already know that she descends from Charles II illegitimately via Lennox, Duke of Richmond. Now I find she has a legitimate line from Robert III, King of Scots. The Prince of Wales has several lines of descent from Robert, and the Queen Mother descends from Sir John Lyon, who married Robert III's sister. The majority of our old aristocratic families can find a Royal Stuart in their annals.

Watched 'Coronation Street'. Quite compulsive viewing. Ovaltine. Bed.

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Tuesday September 23, 1980

Charles, the Citroen.

_. To Ally's from the YP. Historic day. Henry, the beloved Triumph Spitfire, has gone to the knackers yard and has been replaced by Charles [pronounced the French way], the Citroen Dyan. A petrol-blue P registered motor. I do hope Ally has more luck with Charles. Henry came to her in the autumn of his existence and was a constant source of pain and distress to his doting mistress.

I have found a suitably Scottish flavoured vintage portrait to make a birthday card for my brother. It's Sir Fitzroy Maclean, Bt [1835-1936], upright, clad in his splendid tartan and covered in orders of chivalry. The old boy was the last survivor of the Charge of the Light Brigade, in the Crimean War.

To the Belfry at 9:30 to collect Ally's money, and on to Guiseley with fish and chips. I was horribly intoxicated, serenading Ally with a selection of Stevie Wonder's greatest hits.

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Monday September 22, 1980

_. Warm, but dull. Rain later. Read in Saturday's Guardian that the recent volcano eruptions have also ruined the weather in '81.

Sat at my desk reading the diaries of Barbara Castle, serialised in the Sunday Times. She doesn't come across as being quite as monstrous as I always imagined her to be.

Phoned Ally. She is collecting the Citroen tomorrow. I will never see the Spitfire again. Sad really.

Diana's lineage.

Researched the lineage of Lady Diana Spencer. Her aristocratic connections are phenomenal. She is descended from the Dukes of Abercorn, Richmond, Gordon [extinct], Bedford and Marlborough. The Earls of Sunderland, Gower, Howe, Cork & Orrery, the Marquesses of Hertford, Viscount Torrington, &c. Through Richmond she is a direct descendant of Charles II. Not even the future Charles III can claim that distinction. Ideal Queen material.

Dave L phoned tonight. He had finished marking his homework, and was bored by the TV. He recently went to London and sought refuge with Denise for the night. She is now back in these parts complaining that in London the only way to get on is to sleep with everyone. Tired of doing this she is now running a travel agents in Horsforth. I arranged to meet him on Oct 3, or Oct 4.

Steak and salad for dinner. Excellent. I told Mum that this is not the way to get rid of me.

TV tonight. 'The French Connection' again. Auntie Hilda phoned Mum. Phil and Denise were married on Saturday.  Retired at 11:30.

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Sunday September 21, 1980

_. 16th Sunday after Trinity

Sunny. Could it be Carol's Indian Summer?  Up at 10. Breakfast with Ally, Frank, Bessie, and Andrew. Frank is such a quiet man. To Haworth at 11:30 for lunch at the Old Sun Inn. Frank payed again. Andrew pulls his father's leg so marvellously. 'Old Jug Ears' is perhaps his favourite insult at the moment. Endured Andrew's Judas Priest cassette in the car. We endured it in silence. Horrified that I may be growing to like it. Back to Lidget Green, and then they went on to Colne.

Ally has arranged a weekend at Martyr Worthy for the gang on Nov 28.

Drank lager and blackcurrant all afternoon listening to Mick Jagger and the Rolling Stones warbling loudly. We are both rock crazy at the moment. Walked down Oak Lane and we were almost overcome by the curry fumes. Ally was almost physically sick.

Got a bus on Manningham Lane and returned to Guiseley at 7. We fancied having a night by a warm TV. Watched a Goldie Hawn film. She's always so good.

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Saturday September 20, 1980

_. Woke up grinning broadly thinking of Peter's perplexed face finding his spare room vacant. I will of course send him a ridiculous letter explaining the reason for my hasty departure.

Bessie and Frank.

Ally rang at 10:30 to say that Frank and Bessie have arrived at Club Street and that they are coming over in Frank's new BMW to collect me in an hour. To Cracoe in Frank's new BMW. Scampi. Frank always insists on paying for everything. Bessie looks better, and is slim and bright. I am very fond of her. She gives such expressive and affectionate glances, and need say nothing. From Cracoe we drove around Skipton, Grassington, Appletreewick, &c. Crowded with Saturday motorists. Frank was almost violent in the car park in Skipton. Purple with rage. Since his operation he is more prone to irritability. He does, however, have many good points. Ally and Bessie are continually apologising for his rudeness.

At 8, back at Club St, Mum, Dad, Lynn and Dave, followed by Sue and Pete arrived for drinks and a light supper. The gathering passed off very well. Bessie seemed to hit it off with Mum. Andrew sat behind a spider plant sinking lager like a man after my own heart. I drank gin and ate all the cheese. They all left at about 1am.

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Friday September 19, 1980

Peter M.

_. Out to Parker's wine bar with Sarah at 1pm. Ghastly afternoon. Felt ill due to lack of food. Home at 6 and recovered in time to go out with Pete M and Steve Hudson to the Shoulder at 8:30. I sat in the back of his open van, hair blowing in the breeze, looking like Charlton Heston in 'Ben Hur'. Peter told me in strictest confidence that he wished he could be fashionable like me. He wasn't taking the mickey either. Oh dear. You've either got it, or you haven't. On to the White Cross. Saw Sue and Pete who were with Audrey Rycroft and her bearded silent, brooding husband. By now we were all very drunk. Steve has a funny heart. It was palpitating again. Transplant material, perhaps? From the Cross to the New Inn. Saw Chippy and Dave W outside the pub and offered them a suitable V sign from my chariot. Exchanged abuse with Dave W which is always fun. Steve left at 11, and after failing to persuade Pete to go on to a disco we went back to his place in Otley for bacon sandwiches and fish fingers. Lynne came down and wasn't too pleased to see me. Donald and Vera, his parents, were at the house in Thornton-le-Dale, and Karl was out on the town. He gave me a room for the night, but at some unearthly hour I left the house and it's sleeping occupants and walked home.

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Thursday September 18, 1980

PC Rhodes: no future.

_. The papers today were full of Lady Diana Spencer. They have all decided it's settled and tied up. I'm not speculating at the moment.

Home at 5:30 to find Mama and Papa in the middle of a fracas. Mum had raise the subject of the future beyond Dad's service in the police force, and Dad had brought the conversation to something of an impasse by saying he had no intention of discussing the future, because as far as he is concerned he doesn't have one. Mum was upset, but far from shattered. I think she is learning to live with his little peculiarities.

Ally came over on the bus at 7:30. The atmosphere in the house was far from harmonious, and so we walked out into Guiseley, for a tour of some of the hostelries. The Yorkshire Rose, the Drop, and the New Inn. This was the first time Ally has been to ours without a car. She once came over with Admiral Dave last year, but that's all. We enjoyed our walk. Autumn is definitely here. Home in a fine drizzle at 11. Saw Lynn and Dave on the lane driving back to Burley. Arranged to go to Dave A and Elaine's on Oct 2. Saw Jim and Margaret. Bed at 1:30.

Wednesday September 17, 1980

_. To Ally's at 5. Listened to music and cuddled until 12. Forgive the crossing out. All my fault.

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Tuesday September 16,1980

_. Shazzo is back from Crete looking decidedly pale and very reticent. What can she have been doing for three weeks? She tells such lies I wouldn't be at all surprised to discover she's really been to Filey, in one of those dreadful caravans. Kathleen was appalling all day, and Sarah made no appearance. She's vomiting.

Phoned at Ally at 2 and spoke to the dreadful Derek Jenkins. She sounded bored, but brightened. I vowed to visit her tomorrow. A Rolling Stones and lager session would be nice.

We are planning a Halloween party on Saturday Nov 1. Obviously, nobody will come, but at least we are making an effort. Some people never give parties but are always the first to attend them.

Benn: wide-eyed pipe smoking maniac.

I am worried about the antics in recent days of Mr Wedgwood Benn and his fanatical band of Labour Lefties. The Labour party conference is looming on the battle scarred horizon and it's clear to me that Callaghan will be slaughtered in favour of this wide-eyed pipe smoking maniac. It's Dad's opinion that Benn and Co will ensure Labour stay in the wilderness for another ten years at least, leaving a clear run for dear Margaret Hilda and that nice Mr Prior. I cannot share my father's optimism. I envisage a Red administration coming to power in 1984 bringing nothing but chaos, anarchy, and useless change for changes sake. What's wrong with the House of Lords, and Eton, cucumber sandwiches and Aston Martin cars?

Saw a programme about the Spitfire plane. Bed at 11:45.

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Monday September 15, 1980

_. Frank Dixon's birthday, and the 40th anniversary of the climax of the Battle of Britain.

Diana: ideal candidate

I spent the morning furiously whistling the theme tune from The Dambusters, under the impression that it was the Battle of Britain theme tune. Never mind. At least I was on the right track.

Spoke to Bob Cockroft about Lady Diana Spencer. She is the ideal candidate for future Queen, but we'll be kept in the dark until the actual day of the engagement announcement.

Spoke to Ally. She was miserable about Henry [the car] and is still sat at her desk buried in Agatha Christie novels. She is going mad with boredom. Catherine Brook doesn't return from Menorca until Wednesday.

Spoke to John tonight. His job as a paint sprayer is now in jeopardy. Corner House Cottage is coming along nicely, and Maria's been rolling the soil in readiness for the turf laying.

We are all out of cash at home. Mum is, at this very moment, hatching a plot to mug the electricity man when he comes to read the metre in the morning. She has just ransacked a cupboard, and shaken the change from Dad's trousers to muster  up 90p for my bus fares. Pathetic, isn't it?

In the News: Turkey has had another bloodless coup d'etat. John Anderson is gaining popularity in the coming US presidential election campaign. The Marchioness of Northampton has given birth to a daughter. Oh yes, and Mandy Baker is expecting a baby in mid-March. To bed at 12:30.

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Sunday September 14, 1980

_. A guy by the name of Andy phoned this afternoon and asked to speak to Alison. I'm curious. Could it be Prince Andrew perhaps, or Andrew, the chef at the Belfry? I phoned Ally, who was quite mystified. Wrong number? Strange coincidence?

Clouseau: exquisite

Saw one of those Sunday afternoon old films. Leslie Howard as R.J. Mitchell, the inventor of the Spitfire [the plane, not the car]. Corny and dreadful, but in an endearing way.

Pork for dinner. Ate too much. Just Mama and I, because Papa was out in his constabulary role beating up innocent members of the public.

Saw Peter Sellers as Inspector Clouseau tonight. Exquisite. Also watched Lord Olivier playing Lord Dowding in 'The Battle of Britain', or was it Lord Dowding playing Lord Olivier in 'The Battle of Marston Moor'? William Walton's battle theme is so good, but the film did go on a bit.

Bed at almost 1am.

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Saturday September 13, 1980

_. Ally phoned at 10:45 and got me out of bed. She came here an hour later and we drove out in the ailing motor car to Grassington, stopping first for a drink in Burnsall. I have offered to pay Ally £15 to be my personal shoe-cleaner. At least I would see her at weekends. She says she may soon be taking me up on the offer because the Belfry is dying on its feet.

In Grassington

To the Black Horse in Grassington. Our last visit here ended so badly.  Back at Pine Tops by 4:30, Sue and Pete were with Mum and Dad. I fiddled around tuning my new portable telly, which arrived yesterday. I now know how it feels to be a man of property.

The Triumph Spitfire began making ridiculous noises and so Ally deposited the car at Sue's and we went out with them to the Burley Gates [formerly the pizza place Burley House], just for one tipple, and then on to the New Inn, which seemed to be full of convicts and potential psychotic killers. Sue went to chat with one of her girlfriends who was with a fiend who daily hacks chunks out of her with a meat cleaver.

Back to West End Terrace for vodka and hotdogs, then Ally and I returned home. I watched an ancient 1930s gangster movie on my new telly, and Ally slept next to me twitching in her sleep reminiscent of an old tabby cat. __________.

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Friday September 12, 1980

Sarah: back from Rhodes

_. Sarah is back from the Island of Rhodes looking decidedly pale. We went to Parker's at 12. She is full of praise for the Greek satellite. Booze was dirt cheap, the food plentiful and the sun blazed down from dawn until dusk. No cars, just donkeys. She saw a host of celebrities there including Angela Rippon, the majority of Pink Floyd, Trevor Eve, &c. Her relationship with Trevor is strong as ever, but she didn't really hit it off with his wild friends. They teamed up with a couple called Penny and Arthur. Why is it that one always meets an Arthur on holiday?

Out tonight with Pete Mather. He phoned at 6:30. Out we went to the Shoulder of M and then the Mucky Duck on Manningham Lane [Black Swan?]. Both pubs were packed. Pete told me tales of Lynne M. On to the Hare and Hounds at Heaton. Joked and clowned around with Sue Martindale. We went on to Oakwood. Pete says he feels so old watching the young ones. Christ Almighty, we are still young, and I for one refuse to give in to this so-called ageing process which is eating away at everyone else.

Home at 12:30.

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Thursday September 11, 1980

_. Marlene is 35 today.

To Ally's after work. Mounds of fish cakes and cauliflower cheese. Back to Guiseley at 8:30 to the Drop and the New Inn. Home at 10 to find Mum playing a hilarious joke on Margaret. Every time Margaret left the room to visit the loo Mum switched a spider plant for a larger one. The poor woman thought the plant was growing before her very eyes. She wasn't amused on discovering the treachery.

I collected some last will and testament forms from a law stationers in Leeds for Mum and Dad. Sounds dreadful, doesn't it? But anyone who owns property should have things settled on paper. Look at the trouble brought about by my the death of my grandfather, John Wilson, in 1961. _______.

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Wednesday September 10, 1980

_. I cannot hear my alarm clock. Useless thing it is.

Spoke to Ally and arranged to go out tonight. It's Wednesday, I know. We never go out on Wednesday, but tonight is an exception.

To the New Inn at 8:30. We huddled together and felt cold. On to the Fox and Hounds. Later, Ally stayed in Sue's old room and I retired to my suite feeling listless and scroggy.

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Tuesday September 9, 1980

Sue: Wendy Wanderers

_. Home at 5:45 and went straight out to Fieldhead playing fields to see Sue play football for the Wendy Wanderers team. They lost 13-4 to a pack of heavies from Huby. Really pathetic. Joined by Jim, Margaret and Julie, who came to lend true Nason support. Afterwards we repaired to the Yorkshire Rose. Lynn and Dave, celebrating 2 years of marriage, put in an appearance before going on to the Emmott Arms for dinner. Dave announced that he has given his notice at Thompson & Spencer after seven years of dedicated service. He has found better employment with another firm of architects in Leeds for £2,000 per annum more.

Susan's friend Audrey ____ devours every man with her eyes. [Can you devour with your eyes?]. A bride of six months, her husband was nowhere to be seen. Pie & peas, &c.

To the White Cross with Sue and Pete for one last drink. Saw 'Flu' and the horrid Sharon. Pete brought me home at 11. Mum and Dad were in bed but I went in and gave them a very biased match report.

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Monday September 8, 1980

_. To Sue and Pete's at 5 from the chaos of the YP. Carol J is having 'man trouble' and felt unable to work today.

Lady Diana: nineteen

The dreadful Sun newspaper told us this morning that the Prince of Wales is now in love with Lady Diana Spencer, the 19 year-old sister of Lady Sarah McCorquodale. She could, of course, be a red herring. Diana's connections with the Royal Household are numerous. Both grannies have been in waiting on the Queen Mother, and her brother-in-law, Robert Fellowes, is the assistant private secretary to the Queen. Nineteen is just the right age. The girl has no past and is 'English Rose' material.

Delia came into the office at 3 and I went down to the foyer to see her. She told Mike Holman that I am her nephew. He gave us peculiar glances as we chortled on a settee.

Sue made fish and chips, peas, cheesecake, washed down with vodka and orange and coffee. Both seem very happy. We sat watching their tiny TV set. Sue is playing football for the Wendy Wanderers at Fieldhead Rd tomorrow against a vicious team of girls from Huby. Peter is coaching her and advises that she must never touch the ball, not even for a second. To do so could result in serious injury, or even death. He must have been advising Leeds Utd too. Susan hates being kissed, and so I made all the more of it when parting. She is lovely and sweet.

Bed at 12.

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Sunday September 7, 1980

_. 14th Sunday after Trinity

Woke up with no hangover. Most unusual. In Sunday tradition I was deposited on Manningham Lane, but Ally almost crashed the car kissing me goodbye.

Had breakfast with Mum & Dad. Ally rattled over at 3 and we paid a visit to Lynn & Dave. Chris B and Julie H dropped in for coffee. They leave for a fortnight's holiday in the south of France tomorrow. Lynn had made some cream buns and Ally laughed at my guzzling. I am taking on a Billy Bunter appearance.

Ally deposited me at home at 6 o'clock and returned to her labours at the Belfry. I told her of Martyn's news.

Dined on chicken with Mum and Dad and we then slept like the inmates of a geriatric hospital. Attempted to watch a violent American film at 10, but fell asleep missing the vital, blood thirsty finish.

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