Monday December 20, 1982

 Yes folks, it's Christmas time and once again Michael Rhodes is going down with pneumonia. It's the same every year. Santa brings presents for everyone else but me. Oh no, not me. I get the snots.

We are laying our hands on a motor car as from tomorrow for the two weeks until the end of the festivities. A Lada which is costing us £103. J. Paul Getty all over again. It will please Precious, who secretly despises being car-less, and we can play at Santa Claus without the use of public transport.

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Sunday December 19, 1982

 4th Sunday in Advent

A day at John's flat. Struggling with cold. Joined by Mum and Dad.  Drinking, and eating pork pies until 6. Mum doesn't know that Janette is coming down for Christmas and for an indefinite period afterwards. This news may not be well received. I will be glad to be out of it in Winchester. John drove us home at 7:30 and then went off to play squash with Chris Ratcliffe at Harehills. Ate at 10. Bed afterwards.

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Saturday December 18, 1982

 I was awake at 8:30 listening to Dad pottering around. We emerged for breakfast. We regret last night's excesses, but I didn't feel too bad. Brewed coffee (we have a new coffee-maker from Bessie). I cannot write. Everything is so bitty.

Over to Guiseley at 10. To Thorpefields, Lynn and Dave's new home. A good, solid family-sized house which they'll be able to fill with babies. Spent the whole day travelling between Burley and Guiseley in a large van, loading and unloading. Ghastly. 

To Sue's afterwards, and then out at 8 to the Station (Hotel). Felt shattered. We consisted of: Ally, I, Dave L, John, Jill, Tim, Sue, Pete, Lynn, Dave B, & Chris and Peter came on in at 10:30. Mr & Mrs Brotherwood too. Tony in a trilby. To the flat afterwards. Not a large turn out, but fun. _______ came with her tiny, yet perfectly formed Duran Duran friend and thery proceeded to copulate on the settee. It was great viewing. Spent the evening avoiding toad-like people. John's neighbour, a nurse from the asylum, by the name of Janet, arrived and grabbed hold of John and held his attention all night. A very forward young lady. 

Dave L, Tim and I went across the road to a flat above the fish and chip shop to investigate reports of another lively party taking place, but found nothing but a very old woman tucked up in bed. Felt like Michael Fagan, the intruder who entered the Queen's bedroom.

Back at John's: Sue was in good spirits, and brought the house down. (Peter) Lazenby arrived late and stood cuddling Ally asking me to 'take care of her'. Jill informs us that my cousin's wife, Jennifer Myers, is expecting her third child next summer. Janet took John off to her flat to inspect her Beatles LPs, and the party drifted away into the ice and snow. Ally and I found a bed.

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Friday December 17, 1982

 Go to the market. Very festive. Buy wrapping paper and some cards. Horribly wet day, utterly miserable.

Left the YP at 4 and stood for 45 minutes waiting for a bus, again. By the time I arrived home I was depressed. Very unfestive. Ally looking pale. She says she feels odd ___________.

Mum and Dad came at 7:30 from John's and we cheered up considerably over dinner. Scampi, profiteroles, &c. Dad messed around with the clock and managed to get it going again. Drink flowed. Mum drank liqueurs like water. Cointreau and Tia Maria. After midnight we gave them their Christmas presents and they were delighted. Mum sat fondling her Lanzarote tablecloth, and beaming. The scene reminiscent of Christmas day. Torn wrapping paper and broken Brazil nut shells everywhere. We finally retired to bed at 4am.

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Thursday December 16, 1982

 Hail, the lot. The gales have calmed down but snow is now on the way. By evening it did come, and the skies were white and threatening.. It looks as if my green wellies are going to be put to use after all.

We have a Christmas card from the anonymous man at number 12, who signs himself 'Charles Eyden'. A grand sounding name, I think.  Poor man, he sees no one.

YP: No Kathleen or Sarah today. News: Michael Heseltine is increasing our rates next year. Ian MacDonald, the MOD official and spokesman, has been slated for his angling of the Falklands thing. I thought he was brilliant. He made our so-called broadcasters on TV news today look like pantomime dames. The BBC news has now stooped to employing an Irishman as political editor. I strain to understand what is going on, and occasionally grasp the word 'Thatcher' and the phrase 'back bench rebels'. Nine new life peers were announced today. Welsh solicitors, &c. The Earl of Crawford's daughter is engaged to the son of the librarian at Windsor - one for the diary.

Mother phoned this morning whilst on 'Christopher watch'. Dad was out with Susie shopping. They had a cheque yesterday for £31,000 for the sale of Pine Tops. It was hurriedly placed in the bank. They dined afterwards at the Damn Yankee.

Home to Ally. We had sandwiches. Bake afterwards. I made a batch of profiteroles and Ally some mince pies. The smell of food is driving me insane. Watched sweaty 'Tenko' again. It's a real fun-packed show, that.

Sir Robin Day, &c.

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Wednesday December 15, 1982

 New Moon

90 MPH gale force winds throughout Yorkshire - a dreadful day. Ally had a second day off to put the finishing touches to her Christmas preparations. The house is looking excellent. Last week it resembled an Afghanistan bomb site. Poached eggs. 

YP: Sarah off. Worked through lunch listening to the wind howling outside. Mrs Slocombe coughing over her typewriter like at inmate of St Gemma's Hospice. Margo is rapidly becoming the office comedian. 'What is the number one record in Heaven?' she asked. My curiosity aroused. 'Wide Eyed and Legless', she answers, ' a duet by Marty Feldman and Arthur Askey'.

Home at 6. Ally looking like a rugby player in a striped shirt. We had dumplings in mince and a rice pudding. We have had some Christmas cards from my great-aunt Anne (Kirk) and Uncle Tom in Barrowford.

Ally sat watching 'Dallas'. I'm astonished that she finds it entertaining. Dave L phoned  and was abrupt. He wanted to come over last Thursday but we were out dining with the Wattses. He asked whether John's party is still on. I told him yes. He also enquired about ours at New Year. Will he bring his punk pals? We have a new carpet. To bed at 9:30.

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Tuesday December 14, 1982

 Somewhat wintry. The usual sort of day. Worked through lunch and left at 4:30, but didn't get on a bloody bus until 5. Met Ally in the interchange and we got an 88 (bus) to Pudsey. To the home of Auntie Mabel, matriarch of the Wilson family. We dined on tuna salad, roast chicken, apple pie and cream. Because we are ruled by the buses our stay was short, and we swapped Christmas cards and looked at the photos of Lanzarote. The gas fire, belting out heat like a furnace, reminiscent of one of those steelworks before they all closed down.

We had a good dig at some of our relations, including her 'posh' niece A____ W. Auntie Mabel sat reading the Court Circular - out loud. We left at 9:15. Home at 10. 

Saw Peter Firth in 'The Flipside of Dominick Hide' - the sequal. Brilliant. Then to bed. A very cold night.

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Monday December 13, 1982

 Fun on public transport. A bus inspector climbed onto the No 72. This little chappie was a real little mobile Alexei Sayle. He addressed the passengers with a tale about a less fortunate traveller whom he said he thought had fallen asleep, and journeyed between Rodley and Leeds eight times before the bus driver discovered he was dead. 'He just missed seeing Santa Claus', he added.

Ally is like a baby at Christmas time. Her eyes gleaming as she skips around smelling at the pine branches of the tree, and shaking presents like a little gnome. She spent lunchtime buying presents and we spent the evening wrapping them and writing Christmas cards. We send horrible cards with pictures of dogs and mice to the neighbours. It's our theory that they are all old and blind anyway. How's that for Christmas spirit? We played our only Christmas LP which is Mario Lanza singing carols. He has trouble singing the word 'Israel'.

Coronation Street: the cast is now growing so old it is hard to understand what they say. 

Sunday December 12, 1982

 3rd Sunday in Advent

Ally and I slept in John's bed, and he slept on his ghastly settee. We were awakened at 12 by Lynn and Dave with Frances, and a roll of carpet. I got up to vomit. Ally (so cruel) laughing in her bed at the sounds of me heaving and David banging around laying the carpet. All too much for me.

Eggs, bacon, sausages, then we left left John's building site of a flat to go to West End Terrace, now the Nason/Rhodes residence. The poor people are all sitting round, almost on top of each other, but seem happy. Christopher was everywhere. I don't think I could cope with him. I'd go mad. John brought us home at 5, and we dug up the Christmas tree in the garden and erected it by the fireside. Ours is such a romantic, cosy house. The epitome of Yuletide. Fish pie and carrots.

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Saturday December 11, 1982

 Lounged in bed for hours on end. Bliss. We spent the afternoon dragging our feet around the shops. Town was packed out. Bought John a blind, Lynn and Dave glasses, and Sue perfume.Back at dusk, heavily laden. We ate something or other slumped on the settee. Ally was gloomy at the thought of a party and sat with a long face. I taped Duran Duran as she splashed in the bath, and at 7 we went to Guiseley. Ally was frozen in her peep toe shoes and we arrived blue and frosty at Victoria Road. John was watching a John Wayne epic on his new colour tv. At 9 we went over to the Station (Hotel). A packed house. Joined by Sarah, Trevor, Carol, with the President Carter look-alike, Stephanie, &c. Denise, with her bearded fiance, was in the pub and so was Christine Braithwaite. All on to [Peter] Lazenby's. A blur. Denise and I were all over each other - but just in fun. Ally enjoyed herself. It was all a bit too much for Sarah, who left disgustingly early. Carol Phillips there too. Another night of nostalgia, but no regret. I spent the whole night in a corridor. Big Jill and I played suggestively with a banana. Late on I misplaced Ally and instigated a major search. Crossed the road to John's flat and found him alseep on the settee. No sign of Ally. Back at Lazenby's I found her sitting in a bedroom with Denise solving the world's problems. To the flat at 4. Punch-drunk.

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Friday December 10, 1982

 YP: Prince William of Wales is to accompany his parents on their Commonwealth tour next Spring against my expectations. I think perhaps he should stay here, but it must be heart-rending to part with children for weeks on end. The Press say it's Diana putting her foot down, but the Prince of Wales is a great softy, I bet.

To Rawdon at 5:30 for a session with the dentist. I need a couple of fillings, which he'll do next month. Whilst waiting to go in I sat looking at tropical fish in a large tank. Very theraputic.

Home at 6:30. Ally has a spiffing repast laid out on my arrival. Roast pork, apple sauce, roast potatoes, Yorkshire puddings, &c. Exquisite. Flickering candles too. 

Phoned Sue at 9. She had spent the whole day in hospital with Christopher who had his tongue clipped underneath. I had mine done at six weeks but the doctor did it with a pair of scissors in his surgery. This runs in the family. 

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Thursday December 9, 1982

 Cold. A thin layer of snow. Pay day. Made my usual pilgrimage into town. The ring I've spotted for Ally is still in the window at Denton's. I must go and put down a deposit - sod the expense. Spent £3 on a Christmas card for Ally and three sheets of wrapping paper. The picture on the front of the card is of a burning log fire in a 3-D form which looks as though it's burning. How romantic.

We sat this evening (after baths) with a pre-prandial drink. David and Jean Watts came at 8 and took us to Haworth for a pizza. Didn't bump into Emily Bronte, but in true tradition it rained. Haworth is always wet. A reasonable meal, but Ally's corn on the cob was cold, and my pizza was lacking in cheese. Surprisingly, David footed the bill when it should have been me, and would take no money. We moved on to a pub where I got us all a drink. Discuss photography. Back to the Watts pile at Wilsden, where we had mead and a coffee. David reminds me of Ian Appleyard. He drove us home after 12. A very pleasant evening.

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Wednesday December 8, 1982

 Cold. Phoned Sue who was cheerful and pleased to be at home. It's Christopher's turn next. He's having his tongue snipped on Friday.

To Guiseley for a nostalgic evening at Pine Tops with Mum and Dad. Our last visit. Packing cases everywhere. We sat and watched 'Minder'. Dad drove us home after 12. We took their house plants. No great sadness, but not a dry eye in the place.

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Tuesday December 7, 1982

 Lashing rain. To the YP after boiled eggs. Photos of Lanzarote arrived in the post and we sat over breakfast looking at pictures of camels and PC (Sheila's tiny dog). PC is short for Pipe Cleaner.

Sarah hated the course upstairs. She had to endure hour after hour of Austin-Clarke droning on and on. He explained to her, and to anybody else who listened, how he arrived at the YP in 1966 in the nick of time to save the ailing company. Sarah brough an old pine towel stand into the office and I fell for it for £20. She's in no hurry for the money. It will form part of Ally's Christmas present.

Lord James Crichton-Stuart, who was first married to the current Begum Aga Khan, has died. She's a bit of all right is the Begum.

Went looking at rings for Ally at lunch. Saw a pretty one for £36. 

Thought about Sue all day, but can do nothing. She's having some sort of procedure. Mum phoned at 7 to say Sue is satisfactory, and back on the ward, but was awaiting a full report from Peter. Mum added that Christopher has enjoyed helping them pack today. 'It gave him something to do'. He isn't even one year-old. He isn't 16. 

John slept at Victoria Road last night. I bet he hasn't told them about Janette.

Didn't get home until 6:15. Carrying a pine towel stand onto public transport was interesting. I hid it from Ally, who was wide-eyed with curiosity.

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Monday December 6, 1982

 Up late. Not enthusiastic. Miserable journey to the YP. My 72 (bus) didn't materialize. Found Margo looking peeved. Carol is off with a cold and Sarah is upstairs in personnel being brainwashed. Kathleen is of course Christmas shopping.

Busy day. From the diary pages of the tabloids I see that no royals turned out for the wedding at the weekend of Georgina Butter, kinswoman of Prince Philip, and cousin of Sacha Abercorn and Natalia Westminster. The Daily Express reveals that Lady Romsey has given birth to a daughter. I didn't know that the lady was pregnant. I must be losing my touch.

Phoned Auntie Mabel. We are going on Tuesday. Phoned Mum. Dad pranged the Toyota in the ice this morning, an accident which has signed the car's death warrant. He wasn't hurt. 

This evening Bessie was on the phone - the christening saga again. She is getting in a state about it. Phoned Susie and wished her all the best for the op tomorrow. Spoke to Mum too. Pine Tops is upside down and she's seriously thinking about phoning the Samaritans. She's going through all her possessions and becoming nostalgic.  We are going on Wednesday to say farewell to the old place. Lynn had a dizzy turn on Saturday night. Dad is doing too much, &c. Life here in Bradford is so tranquil in comparison. Dave L phoned and I told him about John's flat warming party. He is a fool.

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Sunday December 5, 1982

 2nd Sunday in Advent

Brothers: John & Lawrence

Slept until noon. Our Lanzarote photos arrived yesterday and we took them to Guiseley. Mum commented that Uncle John looks older than Dad. Wrong. 

I laid the floor covering here in the kitchen. I almost called it lino, but that would be wrong. There was a 3-D film on the BBC but we don't have the specs to view it and so the picture was blurred. We had lamb again. 

Look at Harold Nicolson's diary. Such a mixed up little man. I must read Nigel Nicolson's book about the marriage of Harold N and Vita Sackville-West.

We went to bed at 9:30 to avoid Esther Rantzen.

Saturday December 4, 1982

 Crumpets in bed with lashings of tea. To town afterwards to pay our carpet installment, and to buy a few Christmas presents. Got John and Sheila an Aynsley vase. Other odds and ends. Back home at 2:30 to find a van outside and Papa and John in the house. John had slipped his hand into the letter box and unlocked the door. We really must make sure we lock up properly. 

John drove us to Guiseley, almost piling the car up on route. He can be a very worrying driver. Move furniture from Pine Tops to Victoria Road, where John has found a large flat. Dave B was sulking because his removal date has been put back a week. He was positively furious. 

John drove me to Horsforth to collect his velvet curtains. He told me that Lynne Mather has become engaged to her boss, who has two homes here and one in New Zealand. Good for her. Chris Ratcliffe is going out with Judith Lea, and Christine Braithwaite is back in Yorkshire. 

Had a Chinese take-away with Mum and Dad. Frances is an angel but screams the place down at the first mention of bed. Lynn's health visitor says there's something wrong with the child because she hasn't walked yet.

John, itching for a drink, took us to the White Cross, the Woolpack and the Dog and Gun. Home later for drinks and a Lon Chaney film. John offered us the use of his car for Yuletide. We couldn't possibly accept. Janette is coming to Yorkshire for the festivities. That will certainly put the cat amongst the pigeons. He hinted also that Dad is going to give us the Toyota. Ally wouldn't take it.

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Friday December 3, 1982

Fresh bread for breakfast and then out into the cold.  YP. Nothing thrilling.

News: Labour won another by-election. Well, they didn't win it, they held it. 

Sarah is back. The decorating must have reached a happy conclusion. I did nothing this afternoon and skulked around the office like a rat.

Tonight Ally sat and wrote me a wonderful letter addressed to Santa Claus setting out her demands. I roared with laughter. She wants an Afghan (a dog of course, and not one of the sweaty rebellious humans). She'd call him Clarence.

Glynnie phoned to talk about Tenerife. He sounds to have had an excellent time on the bottle. He met up with a pack of landlords from Bristol, or somewhere.

To bed very early.

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Thursday December 2, 1982

 Cold, frosty morn. Have I mentioned Auntie Mabel? She phoned the other day and invited us to lunch on Dec 12. It is the day after Lazenby's (party) and so today I phoned her to cancel. We'll go some other time, obviously before Christmas.

Sarah still off. Must be having trouble with her wallpaper paste. YP abysmal. Kathleen cannot grasp why we want a day off in lieu for Christmas day. She says Christmas day falls on a Saturday, and we do not ususally work on a Saturday, so why are we entitled to a day in lieu? Silly cow. 1983 is going to have to be bye bye YP. I'm going to become a rock star, a leading author, or just a simple sex symbol. Ally's a little sex symbol already.

Out at lunchtime and purchased Molly Keane'sbook for Ally, which I stumbled upon quite accidentally in Austick's. Put £3 in our building society account. I'm hoping to buy a derelict Georgian vicarage with a minimum of 20 rooms. Club Street is all very well but one must expand.

Tony Benn has been shouting his mouth off about the Royal Family. He's unhappy with the Regency Act and says that should Prince William be jetitsoned onto the throne before he is 18 by the premature deaths of the Queen and Prince of Wales, then he will be quite unfit to reign, and that a Labour government would have no dealings with Prince Andrew as regent.

Ally had fish and chips waiting when I arrived home. Bliss.

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Wednesday December 1, 1982

Charlie Cairoli.

Ally better but not 100 per cent. Because of this christening business we may have to hire a car. The thought of public transport all the way to Winchester just isn't our style. Car hire people are such robbing bastards though. To the YP with a red spot on the end of my nose reminiscent of the late Charlie Cairoli. 

YP poor. Sarah still off. She must be having trouble with her plumb line. The Queen Mother is back in circulation after her op. We'd be a dull nation without her. Spoke to mother. She says Pine Tops looks like 'Steptoe's yard' and is upside down. John's things are everywhere too, and they are living out of packing cases. Very sad. Twelve years in one spot is a long time for Mum and Dad.

Home cold. Eat like a wolf. We are both sick of the drudgery of work. What is the point of it all? Working for the money to keep a house which we rarely see because we are always working. It's an odd sort of world.

Coronation Street: Stan Ogden cannot go on much longer.

At the earliest opportunity we go up to bed and read. Harold Nicolson at war. Lights out by 12.

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