Thursday June 30, 1983

 Cool. Lay in bed a little late. Eggs, &c. Ally to the doctor on Paternoster Lane and I waited for her on a bench in the Methodist churchyard. It's a striking classical building dating back to 1805. Ally seemed to be in for ages and came away having had her blood pressure checked and being weighed. She is 8st 6oz. The doctor pressing her tummy says her uterus is size 11. We walked home together. I have received 2 cheques, giro cheques, from the unemployment people. -- £45. I am going to spend, spend, spend, as Viv Nicholson said. It's the clinic this afternoon where she's having blood tests.

I read in the Telegraph with some surprise and disappointment that Sir Harold Wilson will probably only receive a life peerage. The Earl of Dundee, hereditary standard bearer for Scotland, is dead, and so too is Lord Romilly, who succeeded to the title in 1905 and never uttered one word in the House of Lords. Francis Pym has been prattling on from the back benches and is apparently to be 'Chief Wet'. The PM has nothing at all to worry about as far as I can see. Watched Billie-Jean King at Wimbledon but missed the end. Ally went to the clinic and gave blood then came home, got a bit of grit in her eye crossing the road. Dr Duck says she is 12 weeks but Sister Matthews says she's only 11. Miriam Stoppard dates pregnancy from the first day of a woman's last period.

To bed at 9:30.

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Wednesday June 29, 1983

 We had porridge for breakfast which seems a strange idea for the month of June. I sat down and wrote to the prime minister commending her on the reinstating of the hereditary peerage.  As I bashed at the typewriter in walked Dave B and I gave him a coffee. He was chatty and asked about our training with Sam Smiths. He says that Frances asked her mum: "is Auntie Ally going to have a baby?" When Lynn said 'yes' Frances quipped "Oh I used to be one of them." David went on to a meeting in Oldham and I went out to post my letter. The news reveals that Michael Foot wants 20 new Labour peers. It is customary for the leader of the opposition to get about 6 or 7 in dissolution honours.

I racked wine and tasted most of it. Found it dreadful. Wimbledon on TV. I must admit I find I can watch tennis where I have never been able to do before. McEnroe beat Mayer with no tantrums. Made a cottage pie for Ally's return. The poor girl had spent the afternoon showing the ropes to her replacement.We ate in front of the TV. In two weeks all this will change. So looking forward to life at the Linthorpe. We retired at 10 and I was just opening Jane Eyre when the phone rang. It was Lynn babbling away. Mum and Dad have been down and are at John's for dinner. We're on the agenda next time.

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Tuesday June 28, 1983

 I walked into town at 10 and went to 'sign on' as they say. I asked the 17 year-old bundle of joy on the desk whether this is the first week that I might perhaps begin to live off the state. 'Yes. You might get a cheque on Thursday', she said, vaguely. I went to the railway station to enquire about fares to Middlesbrough. £7.60. I collected a Dales Rail leaflet for trains to Horton-in-Ribblesdale.  Walking home I spied an amusing piece of racist graffiti. ____________. I am in no way a racist. I wouldn't object if a daughter contracted a marriage with a Pakistani if she wished to do so, but the daubing on the wall gave me a chuckle on the way home. 

A letter in the Daily Telegraph criticises the PM's revival of hereditary peerages. I will write to the PM to give my support to her brave decision. I would like to see others raised to the peerage after Willie Whitelaw and George Thomas. Harold Wilson, yes. Callaghan and Heath, yes. Retiring prime ministers were always given an earldom. Disraeli gave a peerage to his wife. Margaret could also do this for Denis.

Watched Wimbledon. Virginia Wade was beaten. I had two odd phone calls from a giggling woman asking to speak to 'Alphonse'. 

I saw Phyllis from the end house and told her our news. Poor Bert is unwell but battling on. I hope I will be able to continue with my journal in Middlesbrough. I haven't been defeated before. When Ally came in we had frozen fish fingers. They weren't actually frozen when we ate them but they were in that state minutes before they went under the grill. The garden gate creaked and in walked Dave L en route to Caesar's nightclub for some tickets. We gave him a couple of drinks and told him our news. He isn't interested in babies but was pleased about the pub. His pig at school expects piglets any day now. We went to bed on his departure at 9:30.

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Monday June 27, 1983

 The second anniversary of our marriage. We met at lunchtime and went to the bank and the Traveller's Rest where we lunched on scampi (me) and steak and kidney pie (Ally). 

Spent the afternoon watching Wimbledon. Jimmy Connors was defeated. Mum phoned to wish us a happy anniversary and says they had two men staying there from Middlesbrough who know the Linthorpe Hotel well and say it's a big place in its own grounds. Spoke to Dad about the hideous Ronald Gregory selling his 'Ripper Yarns' to the Mail on Sunday for £40,000 or more. Dad is aghast.

Watched 'Minder'. Bed at 11.

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Sunday June 26, 1983

4th Sunday after Trinity

 Ally feels slightly better today, yet still queasy. We put the settee into the middle of the room and lay upon it like Romans. Ally snoozed but was frequently awakened by the canon fire from the Battle of Edgehill coming from the film 'Cromwell' on BBC1. A hideously biased film. Before the battle we saw Cromwell (Richard Harris) praying: 'Oh Lord thou knowest how busy I must be this day: If I forget thee, do not thou forget me'. This prayer was actually spoken by Sir Jacob Astley (1579-1652), who fought on the royalist side. The film shows frequent meetings between Cromwell and King Charles I which never actually occurred. Why do they meddle with the facts so?

Lynn and Dave brought the children at 5 for an hour. Frances insisted on taking down every book from the bookcase. Katie is fat and brown. I have never known a baby smile so much. We dined on pork chops. 

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Saturday June 25, 1983

 I slept late. Ally was awake at 7 and collected the mail, but I was sluggish and idle.

I expected to hear from Sarah after my visit to the YP on Wednesday. __________,

Ally had a salad and I sat and watched her eat it. Later I watched a 1979 Dracula film spoiled by the fact that the butler, or asylum administrator, is Chalkie White the Coronation Street dustman.

To bed at 12:30.

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Friday June 24, 1983

Haddon Hall.

 I walked to town and met Ally outside the bank at 12:30. We went to see a young man about obtaining £800 until August 20 when we can get this amount from our building society account. Sam Smith's want a £500 bond and we thought we'd spend the rest on smartening ourselves up. We cannot be seen at the Linthorpe Hotel looking like Greenham Common 'peace' people. We had a quick drink at the Berni and then Ally went back to her labours. I went to buy food and bought Ally a Minton Haddon Hall tea cup (£5.25) and a pair of gold studs for her petite, exquisite ears. These gifts are of course to commemorate our second wedding anniversary. Home hot at 3:30. Watched Wimbledon. Chris Lloyd was defeated by an unknown juvenile. Had fish. Watched Duran Duran on Channel 4. Prince Andrew was on the news. The boy was opening the Mountbatten Athletics Stadium in Plymouth. He's a real bluff sailor. Kisses for Lady Romsey and broad grins. He doesn't give off a royal aura. Perhaps it will come in time. I am eagerly awaiting the dissolution honours.

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Thursday June 23, 1983

Ally: peach

 Heavy Rain. Ally went to work in a baggy dress. She was uncomfortable in a skirt yesterday. Pregnancy suits her. She is like a peach and eyes are brighter than ever. She came home at 12:30 and an hour later we walked to Saint Street where she sat in a waiting room full of heavily pregnant women. I stood outside with a rolled umbrella watching a feeble old man trying to park his car in a tiny gap. She came out having seen Sister Matthews, a midwife, who is as broad as she is tall, and pleasant with it. Ally was weighed. She is 8st 5lb. At home I made the dinner and watched John McEnroe shouting and screaming at Wimbledon. Ally phoned Bessie and I phoned Mum at Horton. She says Maria and the children are in Guiseley but everyone in Guiseley has sent Catherine's birthday presents to Scotland. John and Janette are going to Scotland for the weekend. Janette hasn't been back since she left in January.

Ally went to bed at 10 and I watched Sir Robin Day's programme. Norman Beresford Tebbit is a man to watch. I like him and always thinks he talks such sense about trade unions. The ghastly Gwyneth Dunwoody makes my blood boil. 

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Wednesday June 22, 1983

Club Street.

 I went and stood with Ally at her bus stop and watched her disappear down the lane. I found a corner of the garden and sat crouched like an Indian among the conifer bushes and bags of builders sand. Mrs Greenwood's door was open and so I climbed over the wall and spent ten minutes with her. She told me that Betty Heap at number 20 (Club St) is a fallen woman. I have seen a young Pakistani coming and going at odd hours and assumed he was a lodger. Betty must be at least 60. 

At 11 I switched on the telly and watched the State Opening of Parliament. No stunning measures. It is always touch and go as to whether Lord Hailsham will survive the spectacle. We were told that HM had excused him from walking backwards.The Queen looked older. The Duke of Edinburgh always has a grin on his face. I'd love to know what he's thinking. Back into the garden with cheese on toast at 12. I am instructed by Ally to get brown. She likes bronzed barmen. 

My cousin-in-law-to-be Paul Edwards is 19 today. He looks much older. 

Later, the woman from the social services who comes to visit Britt (Greenwood) at night to ensure she's tucked up knocked on our door to say she's found her on the floor ... again. We went round. Poor Mrs Greenwood was dazed  and shaken. She fell over three hours before whilst making a sandwich. We gave her a brandy and she came round. She is terrified of being taken away to hospital and pleads with the Irish nurse not to tell anyone. Her sons were phoned who say they'll visit later. We sat with Mrs G until 8:30. A thunderstorm. We told her our baby news. She confided in us that she had been a naughty girl and had to get married when she was 23 - in 1911, the year of King George V's coronation and when Asquith was PM! Those days were different. 

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Tuesday June 21, 1983

 At 10:30 I phoned Geoff Hemingway. He was chuffed about the job. I arranged to meet him at the Town Hall Tavern at 2. A postman arrived, fat and sweaty, who handed me a letter without a stamp and asked me to cough up 22p. It's from Sam Smith's telling us we are to train at the Linthorpe Hotel, Middlesbro'. Phoned Ally who was excited. Lynn phoned to ask about Winchester. She tried to assure Ally saying that once the first 12 weeks (of pregnancy) are over it's a doddle. I went to see Jacq ______. She has been going out with a shoplifter who specialises in videos. To the Town Hall Tavern for 2. Sat with Peter Lazenby, Roy Holland and Nicola Gould. Geoff followed. Sank a few pints and some whisky. Geoff, delighted about the job, asked if the baby was a mistake. Staggered back in the hot sun to the YP and found the library dull and gloomy. All were tearing up photographs in that unpleasant, thick atmosphere. Kathleen doesn't like Capricorn people and hopes that our baby is late and born after January 21. Home to Ally. Pork chops. Prince William is one today. We didn't see him. His parents are in Ottowa.

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Monday June 20, 1983

 Warm, sticky. Wash day. I went to 'sign on'. A 17 year-old with punk eye make-up tells me they won't pay me for the last week when I was on holiday because I wasn't prepared to return mid-week. I have been unemployed for 10 weeks and haven't received a penny piece. Went to Vicar Lane and got Ally the relevant maternity forms. We are told that Jean Watts is expecting a child in February. Met Ally at 12:30. She was with Patricia. We went to the building society and the bank and then to the Traveller's Rest for a drink and a beef sandwich. (We disposed of Patricia after the bank). Ally looked bonnie and sweet ____. Went to the Co-op and spent a mere £11. Home in a sweat at 2. Is Sir Harold Wilson going to receive an earldom in the prime minister's dissolution honours list? It would be typical of the old boy I must say, and I wouldn't blame him accepting. It would be one in the eye for the lefty element, eh? Earl Wilson of Huyton, KG? The Queen Mother is in Ulster inspecting the TA - it was the lead on the 6 o'clock news and rightly so. Ally was in at 5. Lasagne. She doesn't feel bright tonight and feels nauseated. The heavy Italian nosh cannot help. No TV. Ally reading aloud from her maternity allowance booklet. One needs a degree in gobbledegook. After studying the text she decided she will get a good whack and that by changing jobs she won't be done out of any cash. Mama phoned enquiring after Ally's health. She is sunburned after yesterday and is sore. Dad is painting everything in sight including Pen-y-Ghent by the sound of things. Upstairs at 9:30.

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Sunday June 19, 1983

 3rd Sunday after Trinity

Father's Day

Hot. Mum and Dad's 29th wedding anniversary. We had breakfast in the cold, dark kitchen and then went out into the heat and sat with B, who was knitting furiously. Bought a Sunday Telegraph and read about George V's so-called bigamous marriage with a Miss Culme-Seymour in Malta in 1890. Ridiculous, and of course if he'd married in 1890 then it would not have been bigamous, albeit illegal (under the terms of the Royal Marriages Act). His 1893 marriage to Mary of Teck would have been the 'bigamous' union.

Ally put on a tight, black swimsuit and looked like a seal, but a sexy one. We lay on the lawn with iced lemonade. Gloomy about going home. Frank was more civilised today and he chatted about our new life. In fact he was jovial. Andrew came home this afternoon, white, from an all night party at Ovington and after a sleep he was off out again. Bessie says he has bought a piece of jewelry costing £6. She found the empty box in the bin. Presumably it's a gift for Lorraine. Bessie debates what it might be at that price. Not the Spencer tiara. We lunched at 2. Just the four of us. Pork.

Bessie & Frank

They drove us up to Victoria for 6. Still hot. Frank and Ally went off to the loo and Bessie and I stood on a windswept corner. Her dress inflating in a Marilyn Monroe moment (The Seven Year Itch). We departed at 6:30. Bessie looked tearful. Our 'Rapide' coach was far from rapid. Home via Sheffield and Huddersfield and we staggered in at 11. We had trouble unlocking the door. A letter awaits us from Younger's brewery asking us to go for an interview on the A1 at Darrington on June 27. It feels so good that we do not have to go. Piles of bills. The house stank like a mausoleum. Bed after 12. Hot and sticky. I phoned Horton this morning. They were having a family gathering and all were there.

-=-

Saturday June 18, 1983

Gill, Matthew & Frank

 Warm and sunny. A fried repast. Frank and Bessie were eager to leave for Coleford and we dashed around in the kitchen like a circus act. We left at 10:15 down the 'boring' M4 to Gloucestershire. Over the Severn Bridge but the view was spoiled by the mist. Into Wales and at Graham & Gill's for 12:15. Graham was away in Monmouth but he appeared after half an hour. Matthew is much gown and is a Dixon except for the Lynn eyes. He is placid and good natured. We had a good gin and then drove to Ross-on-Wye and sat outside a pleasant tavern and had a good lunch. Matthew in a blue bonnet. I had trout and snapped away photographing like Patrick Lichfield. Frank paid for everything and it came to £35 ___________. Afterwards back to Graham & Gill's where we sprawled in the sun and consumed two carafes of the Lynn white wine. The dog, Tara, is an an attractive canine and not horribly yellow like some retrievers. More white. Frank giggled with the dog like I have never seen him do before. Perhaps he should get one. It might work well on his temper. Still hot when we left at 6:30. An arduous 2 hour journey. Ally looked sick throughout and only her great presence of mind prevented her spewing. At home she went to bed and I joined her at 10. F & B were sipping brandy and watching a film.

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Friday June 17, 1983

 Moon's first quarter

Chillandham Cross, Martyr Worthy

Dull. Slept until after 9. Pantomime downstairs with Andrew and Frank playing with the motorcycle. A fiery breakfast which ended with Frank storming out at 10. They cannot manage Andrew. Ally and I escaped to Romsey for a few hours to look at the shops ... for baby gear again. In the end she bought Matthew a T-shirt in Woolworths. We didn't have a drink because our past experience of Romsey pubs isn't good. Back to Bessie for coffee at 1 and we took her to Alresford where she had her hair done at 1:30. Ally and I went into the Horse & Groom where a crowd of A-level students were having a drinking competition. Nostalgic. We too used to get arseholed too when we were teenagers. How we have survived for so long I will never know. We looked at antiques. 

Later we had a cream tea in the garden and discussed Bessie's ancestry. She is quite hopeless. Her father, Albert Braithwaite, was a newsaggent and stationer. (I have jotted some details in the back of this journal). Ally sat reading a glossy baby magazine. Twins seem to be the in thing. Joshua is back as our chief baby boy name. I am happy with it but Ally thinks it might be a bit too 'biblical'. Judas Rhodes would be worse, I think. I pottered around watering the vast garden. Later had steak pie and watched the atrocious TV. The Waleses are in Canada, the Pope in Poland, and the prime minister in Stuttgart. Mrs T becomes more statesman-like with every passing day. Ally was in bed at 9. I stayed up watching a ridiculous sex film on Channel 4. Bed at 1:30.

Willie Whitelaw was introduced to the Lords yesterday as Viscount Whitelaw, of Pentrith with remainder 'to the heirs male of his body lawfully begotten'. So he will be the first and last Viscount Whitelaw, unless of course he runs off with an 18 year-old, marries her, and begets a son. 

-=-

Thursday June 16, 1983

 Sunny start, but dull later. Andrew is a problem. Bessie cannot manage him. By the look of things he gives her a real hard time. Ally says Bessie blames herself for having him so late in life (she was 42) which has resulted in his apparent 'slowness'. We do not thing he is slow at all. It is all pretence. He has his parents under his thumb. The only problem with having children late in life is that they take advantage. A child of mine would have been soundly battered before reaching Andrew's age and size. Alas, it is too late now.

After breakfast with Ally and Bessie to Winchester where they spend two hours buying, or rather looking at baby clothes (for Matthew) and row after row of ladies underwear. I was bored sick and in no mood for trailing around the shops. I wouldn't mind if Ally bought things, but she rarely does. She tried on a green thing in Laura Ashley and emerged from the changing room looking like the prize vegetable marrow at Otley Show. Laura Ashley it seems caters for the giant. At 1pm the three of us went to the Bush at Ovington and sat in the murky depths. Quite my favourite haunt in Hampshire. A pair of Americans were going on and on for all to hear on the subject of children from broken marriages and people with drug problems.___________. Ploughman's lunch again. I look like a bloody ploughman. 

Overcast afternoon. Back at 3 for tea and cake. Andrew phones from Bishops Sutton and has to be collected. Poor B spends her life chasing around for his benefit. Ally and I went and sat under the cherry tree and as I write this she is reading Women's Weekly magazines from 1976. 

A Tory MP has criticised the PM for reviving hereditary peerages. I will write to Downing Street giving Mrs T my support for the move. We sat in the garden until after six. Bessie went in to watch 'Crossroads' and 'Emmerdale Farm'. She is a keen follower. Frank was home before dark for once, but no Andrew. Ally, looking better, stayed up until 10:30 and went off leaving us watching Sir Robin Day's 'Question Time'. Willie Whitelaw made mincemeat of the upstart Michael Meadowcroft, a new Liberal MP. Tony Benn is not the ideal thing to go to bed on and we did so looking pained and restless. Frank stayed up to quiz Andrew on his weird activities.

-=-

Wednesday June 15, 1983

Bournemouth.

 Ally climbed out of bed in a vile mood and banged around for the morning taking chunks out of me and poor Bessie. After breakfast I made twenty profiteroles, much to Bessie's amusement and Ally's chagrin, and by 11 they we standing in splendour oozing with whipped cream and chocolate sauce upon a wire tray. I took Ally out to stop her attacking her mother (verbally). She is so vicious at times. We went off in B's car to Winchester to collect photographs of baby Matthew. Ally then suggested Bournemouth, and off we went at about 80MPH down the by-pass. We were only half an hour away and we parked on the sea front and strolled along the crowded promenade and laughed at the flabby ladies in their beach huts drinking tea on Calor gas stoves and looking superior. We had another ploughman's at another Berni Inn and sat under an umbrella in a car park full of workmen. 

On the lawn: June 15th

Read the Daily Telegraph. Bernard Weatherill is the new Speaker of the House of Commons. The PM asked Pym to stand but he declined telling her that the office of speaker is not in the gift of the prime minister. Quite right. We went to lay on the beach next to a fat couple listening to the radio. Ally, in her blue and white stripes, resembled a deckchair. At 4 we went back to Winchester to avoid the crush of day trippers, and got back in 50 minutes. In the garden with Bessie, who had me messing with a hose pipe. We dined on steak pie.

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Tuesday June 14, 1983

 Up at 9 today. We ate mounds of toasted currant tea cakes and sat with the Daily Express in the cathedral-like kitchen. Labour is in shambles. (Michael) Foot is going in October and Neil Kinnock is leading the field. Roy Jenkins is standing down to make way for David Owen. The opposition already discussing tactics for the 1988 election. Bloody fools. 

Andrew: secretive

Andrew's motorcycle has broken down and for some peculiar reason he dare not tell his parents. He is such a queer, secretive person. Bessie cannot understand him and he seems to come and go living in a solitary world. At one time he seemed to come out of himself a bit with his sister, but now we don't see him. Occasionally we hear his Winchester accent drifting over from another room.

We went to town for a stroll around the shops and escaped from the heat into a cavern-like hostelry where we sat in basket chairs with lager. Ally has a hungry look about her and suggests lunch at the Berni (Inn) and before you can say Norman Tebbit we were bounding through the crowded streets in the direction of the restaurant. On entering Ally was immediately recognised by Doreen, the ancient waitress. We had rump steak with salad and no wine. A large satisfying lunch. At 3 we returned to the garden at Chillandham Cross. On the way to car I spotted a pastel-type print of King Edward VIII in a dark frame and had to have it. Blimey, it was only £2.30. We sprawled on the lawn. Bessie slightly peeved because she has put a chicken casserole in the oven and we are too bloated to appreciate it. I did manage to eat only a fraction of it at 8. Ally was in bed by 10:30 and Bessie and I were alone. Frank was out at a headmasters' dinner and was late.

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Monday June 13, 1983

George & Falcon

 We got up at 7:30 after listening to Frank banging around in the darkness. The man gets up and goes off to work in the middle of the night. I had the usual fried repast and Ally her egg. A warm bright morning. We took the car into Winchester and looked at maternity wear in Marks & Spencer's. Clown-like checks seem to be in. Laura Ashley was next on the agenda. All her dresses look like tents and I think of Charlotte (Smith). For refreshment we went to the George & Falcon at Warnford, where Ally dined on her 21st birthday. We were disappointed by the small, insignificant ploughman's lunch. Two fat, old ladies were served bowls of cold soup and apologised profusely to the bar staff. Shouldn't the apologies have come from the staff and not the customer? A Pekingese dog was coughing up it's dinner in the lounge bar. On to the West Meon Hut at West Meon where we sat next to a heavily pregnant woman who was sipping coffee. Ally, smiling, said it was hard to believe that she too will be in that state shortly. We returned to Winchester suitably refreshed, to buy Andrew a bulb for his motorcycle headlamp and was home for 4:30. Wrote to Sam Smith's accepting their offer and Ally slept upon the bed, fully clothed, after dictating the historic epistle. Frank was out at Rotary until after 10 and we dined with a tired Bessie on over cooked pork chops. Again, Andrew was nowhere to be seen. To bed at 10:15 after watching the news. More Cabinet changes. The Times implies that the Speaker will also be made a viscount on his retirement, but he too has no son and heir. The Times adds that future hereditary peers include Sir Keith Joseph and Lord Hailsham. However, the 1963 Peerage Act prevents Hailsham from receiving a hereditary peerage because he disclaimed his own viscountcy to return to the Commons. I am absolutely delighted that the PM has revived the hereditary system. Ally to bed with Agatha Christie.

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Sunday June 12, 1983

 2nd Sunday after Trinity

Ally and I were awake at 8:30 to the smell of hot toast drifting upstairs. We lay in bed reading glossy magazines and looking at photos of Italian settees. Up and in the bath by 9. A full English breakfast and then a brisk walk to the river where we stood on the bridge and laughed at the ducks. Ally is furious because I packed nothing for her to wear. She is staggering around looking like a refugee. Frank and Bessie went for lunch to the Hargreaveses, and Ally and I put on shorts and ate a salad and sipped lemonade in the garden. A very hot day. Ally snoozed upon a lilo. She lay reading an article in one of the Sunday magazines about the Princess of Wales and fashion designers.

Bessie: knitting

Both F and B seem delighted at our news and Bessie showed us piles of knitted baby clothes which our offspring will inherit. I read of the Cabinet changes. Leon Brittan is the youngest Home Secretary since Winston Churchill in 1911. Whitelaw, the new viscount, is Lord Privy Seal and becomes Mrs T's deputy. The Tory 'wets' are just about gone. It is so good to know that the country is in safe hands for another four years at least. 

I burned my shoulders while sitting with the newspapers. Ally slept contentedly and peace reigned in the garden with only the occasional sound of cackling drifting over from the party at Chilland Barn. I could clearly hear Bessie giggling. They came back at 5 when it became dull and overcast and we made an exodus from the garden. Frank, full of wine, went off and fell asleep on his bed, a very rare occurence, and we three had a leg of lamb. Andrew is never at meals and we hardly see him. Bessie says he's only a lodger. Ally went upstairs leaving me with Bessie in front of the TV. I went up at 11.

Ally's lilo

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Saturday June 11, 1983

 New Moon

The Queen's official Birthday

Ally was awake at 5:30 and we were late and dashed around like mad things leaving the house at 6 with our suitcase. Both looking pale and feeling abominable. We got a coach at 6:30 and arrived in London at 10:30 to be met by Frank and Bessie at Victoria. The Trooping of the Colour was in full swing and the traffic bad. 

We were at Chillandham Cross for 12 and in deckchairs in the garden until 7 when we resembled lobsters. Frank was wanting to take us out for dinner but Ally was done in. At 8pm she went up to bed and slept for 12 hours. I had a ham salad and watched the highlights of the Trooping whilst F and B snoozed in their chairs. 

Birthday Honours: George Howard is a peer, but no great surprises. Watched the news. The PM has already reshuffled (the Cabinet) and Pym has gone and Willie Whitelaw created a Viscount, the first hereditary peerage awarded since 1964. However, he has no sons and only daughters. Will Willie have a special remainder? Nigel Lawson is Chancellor of the Exchequer and Sir Geoffrey Howe Foreign secretary. Very pleased about the hereditary peerage. To bed at 11pm.

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