4th Sunday after Easter
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| William and nanny. |
Royal news: Watched the BBC and ITV coverage of the royal tour of New Zealand. Saw Prince William arriving at Gatwick with his nanny. The boy is always barefoot.
Roasted a chicken and the usual oddments and we ate at 7. An evening of continuing idleness. Watched 'Brideshead Revisited' on Channel 4 which was amusing. The drunk scenes are exceptional. Saw Glenda Jackson (a future Dame Glenda) and Walter Matthau in a romantic film which was good.
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We stayed in bed until about 9:30 when we heard Steve O'Connor's ladder banging against the wall and then heard him up upon the roof. We breakfasted on eggs and bacon and lashings of coffee. I went out and bought a Daily Telegraph but it contained nothing of great worth.
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| True: Spandau Ballet |
Ally says what a beautiful evening we had last night. I had a trout and she a piece of veal in a mushroom sauce, but washed down with a wine not as good as the wine we 'brew'. The dinner cost a mere £13 and we came away happy and relaxed.
We walked to town and bought food and the Spandau Ballet LP 'True'. Excellent. Later: Terry Wogan, 'Dynasty', and five minutes of the film 'Shaft'. Went to bed and found sleep almost immediately.
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Steve O'Connor was here for a few hours and then succumbed to the call of the Second West. I suppose he spent some time looking down on that establishment from the lofty heights of our roof. A temptation that would weaken even the most strong willed person. Later the fitters came from Kitchen Studios and replaced our sink - the third in six months. The enamel is now banished and replaced by a stainless steel sink which doesn't look bad and will not chip or scratch. I took down an old book, which I don't recall looking at previously, of the Plantagenet monarchs from Richard II. This era is all very vague to me and I am ashamed to say I cannot tell you which order the different Edwards and Henrys came. I am OK from Edward IV onwards.
Royal News: The royal tour of Australia ended today and the Prince and Princess of Wales have gone on to the Bahamas to holiday for 10 days with the Romseys, I suspect. It's been a triumph for the princess and the shyness and pink flushes have gone. Ally and I both agree that the princess will return to London pregnant, and another infant prince will be born by next February. On the subject of progency I do hope to give myself an heir shortly. You, dear reader, have waited very patiently for almost two years and I have said very little on the subject, but be assured we have been trying. The signs are that this is it.
We went out at 8 and dined at Mama Mia's Pizzeria on Manningham Lane.
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Steve O'Connor and a man in a pom pom hat came at 7:30 and started stripping the roof and throwing the debris down onto the ground. I sat at my typewriter listening to the crashing. The weather was foul and they went over the road to the Second West for the afternoon leaving rolls of felt and a sweeping brush on the roof. Ally came home and looked at the roof in horror, but I was assured by Mr O'Connor that the rain will not come in. We went across to the Co-op and spent £12 on a few vital provisions. We ate funny pieces of fish in sauce out of plastic bags, and feel ashamed for this weakening for convenience foods, which are in fact most inconvenient. The plastic bags proved difficult to open and I showered parsley sauce all over the kitchen.
I despatched a birthday card to Valley Rd Pudsey for Jill, who is 21 tomorrow. __________. I also sent John a list of family birthdays and anniversaries, because he always forgets them. In some respects John has a perfect memory. He can tell you the day that Rod Stewart's 'Maggie May' reached number one, and so why can he not remember the birthday of a niece?
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Full Moon
I played at Mrs Mopp and went about the house with brushes and cloths. I gave the piano a polish and dusted Augustus and Ocatvius the pot dogs. We have a dispute about Octavius because Ally seems to think he started off with another name. I know for certain they have these names because they are named after two of the sons of King George III.
When Ally came home we both went out to the fish and chip shop where a nauseating OAP in a Gannex raincoat jumped the queue in front of us. I suppose that he thinks that because he was at Dunkirk he has the right of priority over us. In an fish and chip shop queue I wouldn't even give precedence to the Duke of Edinburgh. We ate like something from a jungle scene and collapsed afterwards. 'Coronation Street' and 'Dallas'. To bed after the news. With volumes, but we don't read.
The Telegraph & Argus had an advert for a barman and I phoned but the landlord told me the vacancy had been filled. It was a pub on Little Horton Lane wherever that is.
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Boiled eggs. Further doubt about the authenticity of the Hitler Diaries. I thought so.
Steve O'Connor returned at 8 confused about when he is starting here. I walked Ally to the AHA and bought a Daily Telegraph on Duckworth Lane. A girl passing in a car smiled at me and I recognised her as the girl who worked at WH Smiths and went out with Peter Mather in '77 and was also an escort of Tony's. What was her name? It is reassuring to know that after six years I am still recognizable.
I changed the festering bed and then did some washing and put it out on the line. Mrs O'Brien was doing likewise and we smiled at each other over the wall whilst clutching our damp underwear. (That doesn't sound as perhaps it should). Our other neighbour Mrs Greenwood is home from hospital and still with us and battling on. She is visited by several nurses and I suspect she is confined to bed. No. 6 Club Street is up for sale and I phoned Whitegates who tell me it's on the market for £9,950. It is nowhere near as 'well appointed' as ours. Ally pleased at this. Our place must be worth about £10,000.
Sarah has sent me a list of Knights of the Garter so created since the Queen's accession. She has made 41 appoinments to the order in 31 years.
Ally phoned at 11 and laughed at my washer woman activities. I told her that our red pyjamas from Ios are now flapping on the line.
Later I cooked and we sat watching the rain and listening to the thunder and flashes of lightning.
News: The British Leyland strike is over after 5 weeks. The CBI says we are on the road to recovery, or at least Sir James Cleminson does. Garden gnomes are banned from Chelsea Flower Show because they lower the tone. Good thing too.
Later eagerly awaiting the start of the Marilyn Monroe film 'The Seven Year Itch'. An excellent comedy. Bessie phoned. Graham, Gill and Tara the dog are going there for the weekend. We had a glass of elderberry wine with lemonade and so ends this twenty sixth day of April in the Year of Our Lord Nineteen Hundred and Eighty Three.
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A wet, dismal day to begin with but a bright afternoon and evening. Ally left and Steve O'Connor was here at 9:10 to strip the roof, but I hadn't notified the Housing Department and so he went away arranging to begin the task on Thursday. He asked me if I am related to Malcolm Rhodes, the infamous Lidget Green 'head banger'. Thankfully not. ________.
Later I went to town on foot and saw the man at Kitchen Studios. They are coming with yet another new sink on Thursday or Friday. Came home at 4 minus £5 with nothing to show for it.
Royal news: an idiot on the TV is saying that Prince William is overweight. These so-called child experts know nothing. We saw the news and the young prince crawling on the lawn at Government House, New Zealand where the Prince and Princess of Wales are carying out engagements until the weekend. Afterwards they go on to the Bahamas for a ten day holiday whilst Prince William returns to London with Barbara Barnes. The baby seems to have tremendous spirit. What a life he has mapped out before him.
I had food on the table for starving Ally when she alighted from her bus at 5:10. A blind man with his guide dog got off the bus at the same time. Ate fish fingers. I attempted to insert a film into the Olympus Trip camera and got into difficulties and phoned Dave B. He sounded to be down in the dumps and I came away none the wiser.
Peter Adamson who plays Len Fairclough on Coronation Street has been remanded on bail on two charges of indecent assault. Watched 'Brass' and 'Panorama' which dwelt upon the US involvement in Nicaragua, followed by the news and a Lana Turner film. This saw us safely through until 11.
To bed. Don't read. Sleep.
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3rd Sunday after Easter
A sunny, fun-packed day. We decided to go out for a walk and went across to the cemetery which is a very fine one, and well kept, and we strolled amidst the tombs.We laughed at some of the names and looked in horror at one of an old boy who is buried with his pet dog. We returned home after an hour and had a few glasses of beer and then went upstairs and climbed into bed for a couple of hours. A delightful giggle. _______. We later took a hot bath together. A tangled, soapy occasion.
A casserole and Yorkshire puddings. Revisited 'Brideshead Revisited'. I dislike the sloppiness of it all. The book is far better.
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St George's Day
A quaint little chap wants the prime minister to declare this day a national holiday. Most other nations have a public holiday on their saints day. I agree. May Day with all it's lefty implications should be put aside and this day celebrated instead.
The morning paper reveals the discovery of Hitler's diary. I am sceptical. Just imagine: 'Sept 1, 1939: Sleep in. Boiled eggs for breakfast. Invade Poland after lunch. Dine with Josef (Goebbels), and Martin (Bormann). Uneventful day.' I find it hard to believe that this evil little man would commit himself to paper. Lord Dacre of Glanton has laid his reputation on the line.
The premier barony of England has changed hands.The 27th Baroness de Ros has died aged 49 and has been succeeded by her son. Lord Mowbray can no longer call himself premier baron. No mention of the garter knights.
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Woke up to the sound of the pleasant thud of a book posted through the letter box. It's the Duchess of Devonshire's book 'Chatsworth'. No communication from a brewery. Made breakfast and switched on the TV. The morning news reveals that the Duke of Norfolk, Admiral Lord Lewin and Lord Richardson of Duntisbourne have been given the Garter. For eight years I have expected the Duke of Norfolk to be honoured. He is the Earl Marshal. Lewin saved the Falklands, and Richardson has been top man at the Bank of England since we came off the gold standard in 1917. No mention of the garters in the Daily Telegraph.
Ally goes off. It's the saddest part of the day when we part. I phoned Susie and asked her to look in the Leeds phone book to give me Geoff Hemingway's home address.. He lives at Fartown, Pudsey. Christopher was brandishing the telephone. The Menston house deal is coming off. I later baked bread and made a gallon of tea wine. Sarah phoned for no particular reason. Eileen is going in next week and they are considering setting her on part-time during the holidays. Played with my Paul Signac (painting) and studied Burke's peerage to work out the co-heirs to the barony of Butler.
Ally home at 5 and we ate simply - eggs and chips. Sat in a heap afterwards. An evening of quiet domesticity. A thunderstorm raged tonight and it was crashing like hell. I am sick of the looming general election. The revolting David Steel thinks that the choice of the all important election date should not be with the PM and that it should be fixed like in the USA. Election day, over the Atlantic, takes place on the first Monday after the sixth Tuesday after the last day of Lent. Stupid fool. If Steel ever became prime minister he would sing to a different tune. The SDP are acutely primative. (Roy) Jenkins is their 'PM designate'. Only the Queen can appoint a pm and it is most improper and constitutionally wrong to pre-suppose Her Majesty's decision, nay constitutional right. A political party can only select a leader.
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Birthday of Queen Elizabeth II
The fifty seventh birthday of Her Majesty the Queen. Buried in bed beneath my quilt singing along to the National anthem on the radio. Has HM filled the vacancies in the order of the Garter? I expect to see the membership brought up to full strength on Saturday. I like to see good old fashioned aristocratic appointments.
Biting cold. Went out and bought at Daily Telegraph. Nothing in it by way of scandal or possible stuff for tip money. Lord Buckinghamshire has snuffed it. I was thinking his peerage was doomed to extinction after the dead peer and his successor, but I see the new heir is a baronet with three sons on the Isle of Wight. Lord Brownlow is to sell Belton. Rumour has it that the Prince of Wales wants the place because the princess is reported to be dissatisfied with Highgrove.
Baked bread and daubed at my Paul Signac copy. Watched an Audie Murphy western on TV. Was he the most decorated American soldier in the Second World War? I think so.
Ally got off the bus in the company of that horrible tart who used to patronise the Staircase pub up the road. We ate fish pie and watched the news. The Waleses are in New Zealand and we saw them toasting the Queen at a banquet at Government House. Ally says this is such good training for Diana.
I wrote to Geoff (Hemingway) and Kathleen. Geoff's was a letter of thanks for his assistance with my application forms, and the note to Kathleen was to say thank you for the camera. I never expected to receive such a gift. Carol J had to make do with a dictionary.
Ally has taken to calling me 'Willie'. I cannot think why. We are in to nick names in a big way and have used them in varying degrees of 'sillyness' since our courtship blossomed in 1979.
We watched the 9 o'clock news together in the dark. An ageing US astronaut is to run for the US presidency in '84. I think Ronald Reagan will stand again. He may well be 93 but he looks great. Many people are capable of making important decisions in advanced age. Look at Lord Denning for instance. In royal news: the Duchess of Kent has had an operation for the removal of an ovarian cyst. Does this mean that HRH is no longer fertile? I am not up on the workings down under. Ally is reading out loud from the Daily Telegraph. She enjoys spotting misprints. We missed 'Soap' on Channel 4.
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A bright and sunny morning. Up at 7 and made Ally her egg. Switched on the TV and listened to Selina Scott. TV-am have sacked everyone. Took my daily stroll to the newsagents and returned home and washed all the windows. Mum phoned to say they are to call in on me today. They're doing Lynn and Sue this afternoon and dining later with John and Janette. _________. They arrived at 12 looking fit and well. Business hasn't been too good since Easter but they have a few bookings for Saturday because it's the Three Peaks Run. We had a few drinks together. Dad wants to buy my 'Oude Vinck at Lynden' oil painting and I smiled bashfully. Inspired by praise from Mum and Dad I took up a blank canvas and painted a snow scene copied from Paul Signac's 'Boulevard de Clichy, Paris'. Very successful. Ally was home at 5 and we had chicken curry, and felt hungry afterwards. ____. 'Dallas' was gripping. Sue Ellen found JR in bed with Holly and took to the bottle and crashed her car. What makes matters worse is that she had Lucy's lover Mick with her in the car at the time. Ate scones and jam. Bed at 9:20.
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Rain all day and an unwelcome chill. Ally went off into the grey and we watched each other until the green bus carried her away. I took up my paint brush and daubed with my picture but stopped after two hours to let the thing dry. Oils can be messy. I sat afterwards reading 'The Three Musketeers' and drinking coffee. I ironed some sheets and pulled the carcas of yesterday's bird to bits and made a chick soup. Ally was home at 5:20 looking damp and we went straight out and to the Richard Dunn Sports Centre where we swam around for 45 minutes. I think we did 20 lengths of the pool but it's an odd shape with an island in the centre from which noisy children insist on diving and distrupting our calm. We climbed out feeling suitably exercised. Acheing limbs. Didn't get home until 8. Both cold and hungry. Chicken and dumpling stew. Watched the fabulous 'Minder' with Cole and Waterman - a genius combination. Took to our beds after 10. Lay with our books. I am gripped with the excitement of D'Artagnan's quest for Anne of Austria's diamonds. The book is something which all eleven year olds have mastered and I feel guilty reading it now at the onset of my fortieth decade.
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The alarm sounded off at 6:54 and was too loud and it threw Ally into an Adolf Hitler mood and she lay seething in bed yelling naughty words at her long suffering husband who was downstairs preparing her breakfast. She eventually came down at 7:30 feeling better but was still dangerous. I went to clamour for a Daily Telegraph and the newsagent reported to me that sales of the YP have 'gone stone dead'. I wonder why? Ally went off looking like something that would be safer in a zoo and I was left alone for the day.
At 9:45 I went to the employment exchange and queued with the unemployed Bradford lads. Does anybody actually work in Bradford? I was handed a slip of paper commanding me to report again on May 16. I asked no questions and took a brisk walk back to Lidget Green where I decided to take up my oil painting. I played with a still life which I started in September 1981, and made a start on a copy of 'the Oude Vinck Restaurant in Lynden' by Max Liebermann (1847-1935), the only German impressionist of note. I am obsessed with the colour green. When I next looked at the clock it was 3pm and I rushed around baking bread and trussing a chicken. Ally was in at 5 in a much better mood. I chastised her for going out in such a mood. We watched Coronation Street. Mike Baldwin wants to open a discotheque in Rosamund Street and the Barlows are campaigning to oppose the scheme. The Barlows are so boring and miserable. Mavis and Victor are back from camping in the Lake District. Saw the royal tour on the news. Bed at 9:20.
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2nd Sunday after Easter
Sunshine. We stayed in bed until 11. I was first to regain consciousness and crept away to make lashings of tea. We sat amidst the quilt talking about last night. I looked in my '73 diary. I first met Marita on Aug 25, 1973 when we went to Cinderella's. I spent £2.50 - an enormous sum a decade ago. We howled with laughter. Ally wallowed in her tub and I played a Michael Jackson LP so loud that he his dulcet tones reach up to the bathroom. At 2 we went out for a bus and made several good connections and arrived in Guiseley at 2:30. It was a toss up to see who we might visit first and decided upon Lynn & David. We went to Thorpefields but found them in the middle of a furious argument about visiting Audrey and a DIY centre. We took Frances into the sitting room whilst they yelled away at each other on the stairs. It, the argument, was resolved, and they decided it was too late to visit Audrey and so we all went into the garden and sat around the garden shed like gnomes. Lynn is a fresh air fiend. Sue, Pete and Christopher arrived and it became a real family pow wow. Christopher chased the terrified Frances around the garden pushing her into the vegetable patch and pulling her hair. He is a terror. I took numerous photographs of the clan at play. Katie was reclining in her pram surounded by flapping white nappies on the washing line. The pram like a yacht in full sail coming into harbour. Like a scene from the 'Onedin Line' - but bigger. David is a serious little soul. He took up a spade to dig the garden and Lynn suggested I joined him which I did for five minutes. Poor etiquette. Asking a guest to help dig is surely not on? Sue and Pete left and we went insidfe to escape the chill. Watched news of the royal tour on TV and joined the Bakers for Cornish pasties and beans. Frances, a little love, sat in her high chair digging at the dry food. Katie wheezed on the floor. Lynn says the poor thing has had a constant cold since she was born. Later David disappeared upstairs to draw and we had a couple of drinks with Lynn before returning home at 8. I was in short sleeves and felt 'parky'. Back at Clube St before 9. Bed at 10. Lynn leads a lonely life with David, who is increasingly buried in work. He's such a quiet little person too.
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We attempted to stay late in bed but we had our sleep broken by the numerous canine friends now in residence on Club Street. The dog at number 20 seems to like the sound of his own voice. A pair of incredibly brief swimming trunks came in the post and I slipped them on and paraded around the bedroom like a Greek slave boy. We thought that today we'd go swimming, but decided against it. Screaming kids tend to take to the water at weekends. I hung a few pictures and busied myself.
Phoned Sue but she wasn't in. Phoned Lynn but she went after a few seconds because she was in the midst of changing Katie. Chris and Julie (Baker) moved to Fieldhead last week. Dave L phoned to remind us that we arranged to see MM and Marita tonight. It's all foggy and vague to me. We are going to the Old Ball (Horsforth) for 8:30. Dave seemed dull or put out by something again. It must be hard for him living back with his parents. How the hell will we get to Horsforth? Ally seems to think it will be an adventure.
Eat greasy breast of sheep, then watched a ridiculous old film followed by the Badminton Horse Trials. Not so much as a glimpse of the sovereign in sun glasses and headscarf, which was a disappointment. I explained to Ally who the Duke of Beaufort is. She was confused, but probably not concentrating on the detail of my vast peerage knowledge. On the news saw the Waleses 'down under'. The princess was in a stunning off the shoulder evening dress looking like a film star from the 1950s. Watched them fly off to New Zealand with Prince William . The nanny looked tanned. Gone are the days when nanny was pale, fat and vicious.
Up to the bathroom at 6. Ally on the loo. I blame the lamb. Too fatty by far. We went out at 7:15 and spent two hours on the road and staggered into the Old Ball at 9:15 looking like a couple from the old coaching days. We sat with MM, Marita and Dave talking about car insurance and Denise's house on Oxford Rd. We drank sparingly and at 10:30 went back to the Matthews residence, a substantial semi on Rawdon Rd, where the sitting room is decorated like something from Homes & Gardens. Marita has installed a fine marble fireplace which she found in a junk shop for £70. We had supper and wine and a pleasant few hours. Reminiscing, but not too much. Poor Ally must be bored senseless lsitening to us banging on about the far off days of '73. Dave brought us home at 1. He stopped at Caesar's on Manningham Lane to buy tickets for Bauhaus. We went to our beds and lay awake until after 3. It was very warm and neither of us felt like sleeping. We are having them for dinner on May 7.
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Feel groggy. We both do. I think we might be getting too much sleep. The usual boiled eggs but no breakfast TV. Ally went off very cheerful. She dosen't mind working now that she's the sole bread winner. It's put some purpose back into her life. I baked a loaf of bread and made two lots of beer and then splashed in the bath - cold water. Lay watching a fly on the ceiling. It must be the first one of the year. Perhaps I should write a letter to The Times about it.
Walked to see Ally on Duckworth Lane and 12 but we were indecisive. The funds stand at £6 so we couldn't go wild in a pub, but after trudging around the Co-op we decided upon a quick glass of ale in the Traveller's Rest. Ken Ineson was in and Ally gave him a sheepish grin. We sat in the dark by the juke box for half an hour to cool down. I took my leave of her at 1 and went into town to spend the last £6 in the market on chicken, fish and vegetables and arrived home at 2.
Sarah phoned with the cheerful news that I have a weeks wages to collect, my week in hand. I would have thought that this sum might be included in the severance pay, but no. We joked about (Judge) Christmas Humphreys, QC, who has died. When the old boy was retiring, about 5 years ago, the Daily Telegraph announced the fact every day for about three weeks. It became something of a joke. She added that my plants (chiefly spider plants) are missing me because I was the only one who watered them.
Ally phoned. The council have approved the grant for our new roof. We only have to put £85 towards the cost - £800 or so - which Steve O'Connor had estimated. Ally is beaming about this. I do enjoy seeing her beam, _______. I feel as though I am not doing enough (to secure another career) yet I have written to breweries and can only wait. If all this fails I think we'll sell up and go abroad and sod everyone and everything. We pass this way but once. I am a gloomy sod, aren't I?
Ally was back with me for 5 and we feast. Talking about the weekend she says Dave L was offended at not being asked to Denise & Tony's wedding disco. I agree really, and feel the same. Denise came to our wedding and we have known each other for over ten years. Dave didn't even know that Denise was getting married until last Saturday when it was all over. We sat long into the darkness and didn't put on any lights. Reading The Three Musketeers. We retired at 10.
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We didn't want to get out of bed but finally did at 7:20. I have a retirement card on the doormat from Stephanie Ferguson which is thoughtful of her. When she leaves in June she is to have a marquee on her lawn at Leathley. She missed the party on Saturday because she went to the Grand National and was late back. I performed my morning ritual of hunting the elusive Daily Telegraph. I said goodbye to Ally who was standing at her bus stop with the bespectacled gent who plasters broken bones at the BRI. I arrived home to hear banging and much activity next door and went out to find Sammy (Greenwood) and the man from the corner shop battering at the Mrs Greenwood's door. I supplied a hammer and a policeman joined us. Mrs Greenwood was in a heap behind the door and the heat in her house was unbearable. The poor old girl had been there since 4:30pm yesterday when she went to the door to collect her evening newspaper and had been laid out waiting for help for 17 hours. Her kettle had boiled dry and her gas fire was throwing out tremendous heat. She was lucky not have burned the house down. It's dreadful to think she was spending the night in such a state just behind the wall from us. Poor old girl. She really is too old to live alone. Sammy, clutching his chest after they took her away in an ambulance. It hasn't helped his angina. The street buzzed with excitement. Old ladies love an ambulance, don't they? I sat and wrote two letters. One to Whitbread's and ther other to John & Sheila just to tell them of our changed circumstances. I baked a Victoria sandwich cake and put butter icing through the middle and icing on top. I am never out of the kitchen. Ally phoned and asked me to make a lasagne, which I did without question. She came in at 5 and we ate heartily. Afterwards, I spied a fat, red faced man marching into Club St followed by a pack of ladies. He was wearing a prominent red rosette and we immediately presumed that he is the ghastly municipal Labour candidate. He was knocking on every door bold as brass. Without further ado we ran upstairs and lay giggling on the bed until they went away. But first he stuffed some Labour propaganda through the door. Reading it I see that the Labour party is planning to create Heaven on earth. Club Street must be red, we decided, because Fat Man was received like Alexander the Great by all the old ladies, who littered his path with garlands and showered him and his entourage with all manner of affections. To bed early, well 9:30. Ally is done in.
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New Moon
Up with Pig. TV and toast. They didn't show anything of the royal visit to Australia, which was why we switched on. I accompanied Ally to the bus stop and kissed her goodbye. She dislikes public acts of affection. I bought a Daily Telegraph and sent a couple of forthcoming marriage tips to Bob Cockcroft. Edward Lambton, heir to the disclaimed Earl of Durham, is engaged to Christabel McEwen, and Elizabeth Howard-Vyse, daughter of a general from Malton, is engaged to a clergyman. I phoned the YP and got through to Bob at 3 o'clock. He'd already seen them, but put me down for the Lambton one.
I baked a loaf of bread and then marched off out at 11:30 to join Ally. We went along to the building society on Duckworth Lane and invested £4,800 in an interest account which will grow by £30 a month. We fought off the desire to go sit in a pub and went to the Co-op. Kissing in the street again, and I departed at 1, and I watched her toddling off into the hospital grounds.
At home I prepared dinner. Cottage pie with peppers, onions, &c. Doing more work at home than I ever did at the YP. Susie phoned and we discussed Christopher's private parts. She was cheerful. They are buying a house, definitely, at Moorland Crescent, Menston. It overlooks High Royds Hospital, so it will be easy for her just to walk across and admit herself once she finally cracks up. I told her I was about to do some ironing and she asked: 'what exactly does that do?' She says she always wear crinkly, creased underwear. Ally came home early and caught me with the vacuum cleaner. We'd eaten and cleared everything away for 6pm.
Dave G phoned, I may go over for the day on April 22. We watched 'Dallas' and went to bed after the news. I am fed up with talk about the next (general) election. I hope it will be in May 1984. You can go to the country too early. Look at Ted Heath in '74? I am reading 'The Three Musketeers'. At previous attempts I have never succeeded in passing the first chapter.
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Up at 7 o'clock. A cold, but sunny day. Ally walked to Chestnut House at 8, and I have a terrible feeling when she has gone. ________. Out to see my jovial newsagent again and bought a Daily Telegraph. No scandal. Viscountess Bridgeman has had a son. She's a Turton from Whitby (landed gentry).
Went out at 11 to town an appointment with the bronchil lady, who wants my P60 and national insurance number. I have to go back on Monday at 9:45 and report to bay 'C'. I wandered off whistling, and to HMV to look at the Spandau Ballet LP. I then went along to Kitchen Studios and saw a north country dwarf who told me that the new enamel sink is now on order and that he will phone me when it arrives. I then went into the marker and bought a half pound of Irish cheese for 50p. I'm sure you like to know that.
Reading the blurb given to me by the bronchil lady it's very obvious that I am not entitled to any hand-out whilst I have £4,788 in the bank. Ally phoned at 2 and we discussed this. Would it be fraudulent of me to hide my redundancy money under an assumed name? I like the sound of Arthur Skeffington-Phipps. Mum is of the opinion that they will not investigate my severance money because I am trying to claim unemployment benefit, not supplementary benefit.
Sarah phoned and asked if I had received my cheque. She says she and Margo are miserable and that they keep looking over at my empty chair and sighing. Kathleen, they say, is being revoltingly cheerful in order to brighten the mood, but that it isn't working.
Phoned Horton. Joe and Anne Grunwell were there for the weekend, as were Lynn, Dave, Frances and Katie. They all had a riotous time. Mum says Sue had just phoned to report that Christopher has a hernia and is going in to hospital to have an operation later this week. For six months they have worried about his testicles, and when Jim inspected them at the weekend he insisted that something is seriously wrong. I am quite ignorant. What is a hernia, and how does one get one? Mum says the lad must have been born with it.
I created a fish pie and before you could say Norman Tebbit Ally was home. We sat reading and went up to bed disgustingly early. She was in a bit of a temper because she'd spoken to Frank who had annoyed her. He cannot understand what we want to do and seems to think we haven't seriously thought about the future. I think he sees her as a secretary behind a desk and doesn't understand she is bored of office life.
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Moorhouse Inn, Leeds, LS11 5NQ If I miss the YP for anything it is that daily morning scan of the national newspapers. I do not have time fo...
