Monday August 29, 1983

 Bank Holiday in UK (except Scotland)

Linthorpe Hotel, Middlesbrough

Our first Bank Holiday Monday at the other side of a bar. Quiet really. It seems that the good people of Middlesbrough escape to the coast on public holidays. Ally is laying the law down with the boys in the bar sending them for crisps and nuts and crates of diet pils. We did a good deal of laughing. Roy was nowhere to be seen. At 12 Roy emerged with books and files and took us to the dining room where he left us reading up on the licensing laws and Sam Smiths company policy, &c. The sun was blazing down and we observed people drifting in and out from behind the net curtrains. Lots of the women with punk-like leanings look like men in drag. A barbecue lunch again. Old Mags and Charlie squabbled about going home. They came shortly after we did last month with the intention of staying for four days and stayed six weeks. Mags Snr loathes Darlington and says she's lived 32 years there and still the locals shun her as a foreigner. Mum phoned to verify they are coming to see us tomorrow. She first spoke to William who was lolling on the stairs smoking a cigarette. Tonight we sat with Roy again. I went to the vault at 8:30. A quick slurp after and to bed. Ally is now eager to go out into the world and dispense beer.

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Sunday August 28, 1983

 13th Sunday after Trinity

Linthorpe Hotel, Middlesbrough

8:30 start on Sunday. So much appreciated. No cook so Ally had to come down and make me scrambled eggs on toast. Sat with Charlie drinking tea. He was a club steward in Darlington in the early '60s and was involved in the 'One Armed Bandit Murder'. Didn't Michael Luvaglio murder Angus Sibbet? It rings a bell ... something like that. Charlie explained how he went about watering down his booze. Old Charlie Poole has had a colourful life. We had a barbecue lunch on the lawn. Ally is really taking the staff in hand and was ordering Jon-Paul and Dave around as though she's been a manageress for years. She doesn't stand any nonsense. I am blessed with a talented, multi-faceted wife.

Wasn't Dickie Mountbatten done to death on this day in 1979, or was it yesterday? No doubt he will have been in the thoughts of those at Balmoral this week. Did I say we had phoned Glynnie when we were home last week?  He was chuffed. They have just buried Garry Barratt's grandfather. I have the feeling that Glynnie thinks we are insane quitting our 'listed' building at Club Street for this hectic life.

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Saturday August 27, 1983

 Linthorpe Hotel, Middlesbrough

Sean.

Horribly hungover. No sympathy from Ally. I certainly didn't get any. Downstairs nobody had surfaced and I did all the 'bottling up' and tidied the garden. Like a zombie and really regretting last night. It's fine for that bloody lot. They can stay in bed all day sleeping it off. I have to be up at 7am regardless. I go about effing and blinding all day. Ally, on the other hand, is speedy, efficient and cool. Slept from 2-5:30 and was better by evening. Everyone in the bar laughing at my 'hedgehog' haircut. In Lounge 1 with Ally and Sean. A quiet night and pleasant. Roy enjoys stirring things and told Ally how he attempted over and over again to persuade me to quit the bar and go to bed last night. Much laughter. At 11:30 I went over to the Chinese takeaway and bought food for Ally, William and I. Went up to bed and lay naked eating our supper watching 'American Graffiti'. Switched off. We'd seen it all before. Read 'The Eagle Has Landed' by Jack Higgins. Slept like a log. Ally, you'll be pleased to hear, has forgiven me.

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Friday August 26, 1983

 Linthorpe Hotel, Middlesbrough

Back to Middlesbrough. Both of us feeling knackered. Great difficulty keeping awake on the 125MPH high speed London to Edinburgh express. To the Linthorpe for 9:30 and up to our room with cups of tea. A pack of new photos await us. I told Marie we'd visited the Red Lion and she said that from the hundreds of couples who passed through the Linthorpe training only two couples, the Willses being one, have failed to keep contact with them. I thought from the tone of the conversation yesterday that they didn't think much of Roy & Marie. Tonight at 11:30 Ally went up to bed after one drink and I sat at the bar with the mob. Old Mags was in stitches. Discussed genealogy with Peter and Kieran and the fallacy that all commoners are descended from Edward III. Horribly pissed. I couldn't escape from the bar and everyone bought me booze as I tried to escape upstairs. Marie informed me that I am to be left in charge for two days next week. Gulp. Roy was pissed and drinking gin and bitter lemon. We argued about Middlesbrough FC. I know as much about Middlesbrough FC as I do about the genetic construction of the male reproductive cells. When Roy took up the microphone and started singing 'I Left My Heart in San Francisco' I knew it was time for bed and went upstairs after falling over the ironing board. Ally was fuming like Mount Etna.

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Thursday August 25, 1983

 5, Club Street, Lidget Green, Bradford

Ally's clinic day. She woke me with tea and toast this morning and we sat in our pink, sunny bedroom. We are noy obsessed by 'home' and when we are away we can adapt to any room or rooms with no strain. Home is where we are, if that's not too corny. I have a haircut and come away looking like Shakin' Stevens. Ally had a trim too, and we went and sat in the clinic. But before this we went to the Red Lion at Girlington where Chris and Elaine Wills (who trained at the Linthorpe last Nov-Jan). They showed us the place. It's very pleasant. We'd love it for ourselves. The little woman took Ally upstairs and showed us the flat which is massive. So, back to the clinic. Ally was weighed and the midwife gasped at her increase in weight. She's now 8st 10 and a half lb. All is well. Ally should be feeling slight movement from the baby now. We left reassured. Ally bought a dress from one of those tiny, obscure shops. It's pretty and wide and has a tiger and a sunset across the front. I gave her some black, plastic earrings and put them in a letter. She cried when I made the presentation. She is an emotional old stick lately. Hannah was one on Tuesday. We sent a birthday card, but no gift. A vast liver stew this evening. I weeded the garden and Ally phoned Bessie. Mum phoned us. They are coming to Middlesbrough on Tuesday. Bed. Jack Higgins, &c.

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Wednesday August 24, 1983

 5, Club St, Lidget Green, Bradford

We headed for home at the crack of dawn. Outside at 6am waiting for our taxi. We saw the old cook lumbering up the road like a Beatrix Potter character. Why does she start work in the dark, and so early, when she doesn't get paid until 7? We hid behind a wall laughing as she shouted up to Roy's bedroom asking to be let in. We were home in a flash and went to the market to buy a joint of beef and vegetables for lunch. Home for 11 and had a vast lunch at 12. ally phoned the girls and at 2:30 Pam brought Lynn and the children over. Lynn looks well and is brown and slim (wearing Ally's dress). She recounted to us a weird tale. Elaine (at John's party last week) dashed out into the night and disappeared and told Dave Allinson (her husband) that John and Peter had attempted to ______. How ridiculous. Dave Allinson has fallen out with Dave B about it. Phoned Susan. Daft as ever. Phoned Mum who was cool, but says they'll visit Middlesbrough next week. Marlene and Frank are staying at Horton until the weekend. Dave B came to collect Lynn at 6 and they went off, gaily. Lynn chattered away non stop and was still blabbering away as the car went down the street. The girls are beautiful. Frances is leggy and naughty and Katie divine. So podgy and pink. We were in bed by 9:30. I'm reading Jack Higgins.

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Tuesday August 23, 1983

Full Moon

 Linthorpe Hotel, Middlesbrough

We had a letter from Lynn this morning which contained some very sad news. David Lazenby was found dead in bed last Thursday. He died in his sleep. I do not profess to have known him well but down the years we have come into contact, usually in a drunken state at parties, and it's horrific to think that he's been taken at such a young age. Poor Peter. He will have taken this badly. John & Janette gave a party on Saturday but hardly anyone attended. Lynn and Elaine (Allinson) attended leaving the two Davids babysitting, and later Elaine disappeared into the night after sobbing in the toilets that Peter, our beloved Peter N, had 'propositioned her'. Oh dear. 

Carolyn Herbert.

The funnies reveal that the photos published yesterday of the willowy Diana-look-alike were not of Sophie Birdwood but of the Hon Carolyn Herbert, Lord Porchester's daughter. We are told that Sophie Birdwood has never met Prince Andrew and she returned from holiday yesterday looking peeved. They must have been wetting themselves up at Balmoral. Carolyn Herbert is a friend of the royals. She would be ideal for Andrew. 

Roy and I cleaned the beer lines. I am not too good at this yet. Roy commented dryly that he can tell that my last job went 'at a slower pace'. You can say that again. Ally was closetted with Marie talking about book keeping and how to spot the vodka addicted cleaning lady. She lay upon the bed this afternoon telling me of the ingenius ways Marie has of spotting a 'fiddler'. Both of us in the lounge tonight.

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Monday August 22, 1983

Linthorpe Hotel, Middlesbrough

Sophie Birdwood.

 The morning 'funnies' (tabloid newspapers) have photos of the Hon Sophie Birdwood returning from Balmoral. They say she is Prince Andrew's new 'gal' after Koo Stark's demise. Sophie is a Selina-Scott-Princess-of-Wales-look-alike. It would be nice if HRH settled down with a willowy, virginal aristo. I am sure he will do before 1993. Unfortunately, Sophie was 'Deb of the Year' in 1982. And I think that the Queen has an aversion to debutantes. 

We have a letter from Mary (Moore) who has fallen and broken some ribs. Betty has suffered a stroke, and Miss Whincup is back from York. We also received a cheque for £800 from the building society which has to go straight to the bank this week. 

I worked in the vault all day. Hideously dismal. Stood looking at Ron Perry's broken nose and re-living the details of his pathetic brawl. I do not think that Roy should entertain him. The place is a home to thugs and villains. Mike Walker from the brewery came to see us. 

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Sunday August 21, 1983

 12th Sunday after Trinity

Linthorpe Hotel, Middlesbrough

A family day. Ally was desperate to see the shire horses but they came and went before we could look at them. I spent the morning cleaning up the mess in the dining room from last night's orgy. Sausages and other morsels on sticks were scattered everywhere. A gang of lads all with dyed blond hair and crates of diet pils lager were responsible. I worked in the lounge 12-2pm. Kids filled the garden and coloured balloons floated above the cloudless skies. Old Mags was slewed and fell around in the kitchen . It's worrying because she must only be topping up - falling over after only a few halves. We had hot dogs later and crept to bed in the afternoon. Worked 8-11 tonight and felt sluggish after a long sleep. I was up and down from the cellar all night changing barrels. At 10:45 in the vault Ron Perry had a brainstorm and attacked Geoff and almost killed the chap. His friend Ian was bashed over the head with a pewter tankard by Norma and he was taken to hospital where they gave him 15 stitches. Bloody fools.

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Saturday August 20, 1983

 Linthorpe Hotel, Middlesbrough

What's happening in the news? I simply do not know. I assumed that I would have to carry on reading the newspapers on a daily basis as I did for nine long years. Yet since April, or at least July, I haven't missed them. Is Koo Stark Duchess of York yet? Has Chad been annexed to Libya? How are the PM's eyes? Is David Steel now Viscount Peebles? Ally and I worked 11-2. Later we walked to Hinton's supermarket. Bought a film for the camera and a packet of biscuits for our room. Slept afterwards. Barbecue night. At 12 we went up to bed and Roy assured me that he will follow our example, but at 5am I could quite clearly hear him talking on the microphone. A band had been playing in the dining room and they had a knees up afterwards.

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Friday August 19, 1983

 Linthorpe Hotel, Middlesbrough

Our first pay day as Samuel Smith employees. A historic moment. For the first time in our relationship I earn more than my wife. We received £752.88 for six weeks work. Ally has a throat problem now. It's something going around the hotel staff but only seems to take one victim each week. Charlie Poole is also smitten and he sat coughing into his beard. He's a good sort is Charlie. Ex-RN and apparently, in days gone by, a force to be reckoned with. Now a 54 year-old ruin. It was barbecue night again but I was shut away in the hideous dining room. I have been listening to the exploits of young William (Barnes). I am honoured because he is a silent lad usually - at that awkward stage, 17 in November, and bored senseless. Ally's bump is growing and she looks beautiful. She feels quite different, and looks podgy.

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Thursday August 18, 1983

 Linthorpe Hotel, Middlesbrough

The fire alarm was sounding off all through the night. Up at 7:15 and drank tea with Mags Snr and Charlie. Reports from the party. Sounded riotous. Falstaff and Ophelia didn't fall in until after 4am. We have a letter from Frank and Bessie. The Rev Matthew Lynn is to be translated to the Isle of Wight. Are only bishops translated? Young Matthew has curls just like Graham did as a baby. Andrew is still unemployed and going out with the mysterious Lorraine. Frank's written contribution is a great honour, according to Ally. Busy night. A private party in the dining room. Ally has been having fun in the kitchen. Mags, a hopeless cook, has been laying down the law on pastry making, and Ally, an exquisite cook, has kept her cool and remained good humoured. The make pastry with self raising flour and look aghast when Ally calmly says she prefers to use plain. They make some hideous food here. When we go home next week we intend having roast beef and Yorkshire pudding - galore.

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Wednesday August 17, 1983

 Linthorpe Hotel, Middlesbrough

Dry day. I brought Ally her eggs to bed at 10, and we both ate in our undies. Too hot to wear clothes. We decided to go to town again and got a bus at 12:30 and lunched at the Masham on steak and kidney pie and roast potatoes. We couldn't locate the Sam Smith's pub the 'Why Not?' It's somewhere in the vicinity. The manager of the Master Cooper has been given the push and Tim, the horrible scruffy Tim, has been given the job of relief manager for about two weeks. We went into Mothercare again and in Marks & Spencer's I bought a tie, a shirt and a pullover. Well, if I am going to be a daddy I might as well look like one. Home at 5 for tea and biscuits. Laying on the bed I finished Ken Follett's The Man From St Petersburg. Worked in the vault from 7. Ally in the lounge bar showing a new girl, Jill, the ropes. Later in the lounge I found Mike kissing Ally and congratulating her on being pregnant. It was news to Sean too. They went off to a fancy dress Shakespeare themed party. Roy went along as Falstaff but looked more like King Farouk. Mags as Ophelia wearing a wet night shirt festooned with plastic roses and carrying a bottle of vodka. We went up to bed with coffee.

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Tuesday August 16, 1983

 Linthorpe Hotel, Middlesbrough

I went downstairs and found the cook, draped in black, mourning her mother, and she gave me a tray with cornflakes and cups of tea. Ally had her cereal and then we slept until 10. I felt useless and dead to the world, any Ally was no better. The rain was teaming down and our day out to Redcar was abandoned. Later I went down to make boiled eggs and was laughed at by people all over the hotel. Mags reminded me of my solo musical performance. Far from sounding like Nat King Cole Ally says I was more like Bernard Manning, or one of those dreadful, pissed-up club acts. Ally sweet in her dungarees. We went out in the drizzle to the bank and then the supermarket where I almost fainted. Back in bed this afternoon. A Chinese take-away on trays watching a film. I have almost finished the latest Ken Follett. Another gripping tale. This boy will go far.

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Monday August 15, 1983

Singing Nat King Cole's 'Stardust'

 Linthorpe Hotel, Middlesbrough

We receive our first pay cheque on Friday - thanks be to God. I haven't had a wage packet since April. How right I was to quit the YP. I have not missed or longed for any aspect of that job. Tonight Roy sat and quizzed me about licensing laws and what I know about them. This led to a late night orgy. Ally went to bed and I sat with Jon-Paul, Mags, Roy, Marie, Dave, James, CID Dave, &c. A riotous party. I fell flat on my back, resulting in bruising. Roy took down the microphone and we all sang until 4 in the morning, much to the agony of those trying to sleep upstairs. 'Song Sung Blue' by Neil Diamond and several Nat King Cole numbers later I grovelled up to bed. I recall dancing in the grip of Marie, who is like a great bear. Ally was awake __________.

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Sunday August 14, 1983

 11th Sunday after Trinity

Linthorpe Hotel, Middlesbrough

Sundays are more relaxed and seem to me to be the only day that is any different from the others in this business. Hot, glorious day, but too busy. I worked in loung 1 and Ally in the kitchen. Nat King Cole on the juke box and a gentle breeze blowing through the garden door. At 2 we had chicken and sat with trays watching Clark Gable in 'China Seas'. Ally didn't like the noise and suggested we should begin a campaign to ban film music. Roy and Marie went off to a Greek wedding at 2:30 - Marie looking extremely nautical in a 'Lady Diana' sailor suit. We didn't go back to the bar until 8. I asked Roy where he originated from and I took a guess. I suggested Cheshire. No. Manchester, then? No. In fact he's from Chesterfield, the town of the crooked spire. A muscular guy in a string vest was leaning on the jukebox holding a stolen glass (from another pub). Roy asked him to leave and he made a grab for my tie. A close thing. Young Mike's car was pranged in the car park. I was later left in charge of the hotel but felt no undue strain from the heavy mantle of responsibility.

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Saturday August 13, 1983

Linthorpe Hotel, Middlesbrough

 A deadly quiet, peculiar day. Business so unpredictable. One Saturday quite opposite to another. Ally and I worked in lounge 1 with Janice who stands no nonsense from the customers and verbally assaults them.Afterwards we sat in a corner listening to the treasury of jokes from the repertoire of JT and Rose. Belly laughs. I love listening to joke telling but find it almost impossible to tell one. I either forget the punch line or give the game away long before the climax. Ally was tired and so we went up to bed. We are not sure that all the staff know of our expected delivery. Young Mike pinched Ally's buttocks the other day _________.

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Friday August 12, 1983

Club Street: listed.

 We have a letter from the Department of the Environment informing us that our dear, neglected home, that tiny weavers' cottage, is in fact a listed building. So we now join the ranks of historic home owners and can now rub shoulders with the likes of Lord Pembroke (Wilton), the Duke of Marlborough (Blenheim), and Tony Gadsby (Wilsby). Mary Moore has always insisted that the little houses on Club Street dated from the days of the beginning of the industrial revolution (circa 1760) but I have been sceptical. We will have to write to the DofE for information. The only drawback is that now we may be restricted if wanting to make improvements. Dormer windows and the like are out. We have also received a letter from Jean Watts. We sat beneath the tree in the garden eating our horrible lunch and reading our mail. Barbecue night. Not as busy as last week. Long lulls at the bar. Koo Stark has left the bearded 23 year-old Prince Andrew. I'm pleased. Princess Margaret is on holiday in Italy with Norman Lonsdale and their children.

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Thursday August 11, 1983

Dave & Lynn.

 Woke at 7. I dreamt I was running down an escalator at an airport. For some reason I was going to France with Roy and Marie and wearing a great, white overcoat. Most odd. No sign of Roy until lunchtime. In the absence of the cook Marie made the breakfast which was good. Nice little touches like warming the plates and giving us friend eggs with the yokes intact put the repast in a class far above Janet's. A letter awaits us from Lynn. It crossed with ours to her unfortunately. David has a new job with Tay Homes, the people who make cardboard boxes for people to live in. Audrey is now home from hospital, but Henry B has sprained his ankle. Trevor and Jane have had a daughter, Rebecca Jane, on July 29. It was a nice chatty letter which began: 'Roses are red, Hotels are Blue, Mike and Ally are managers, but not o'er Tetleys brew'...  Very entertaining. I did a stocktake and then read the order compiled by me to the girl at Sam Smiths. Ally, behind a desk, did a lot of paper work too. I was in lounge 2 from 11:30 till 2. We lunched under a large tree but it was too hot to sit out. Ally phoned Sister Matthews who has heard nothing from Middlesbrough hospital, so everything must be OK. We are still keen on the name Samuel for a boy, though Ally says if Sam Smiths drop us, which I doubt, then she says he'll be Joshua.

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Wednesday August 10, 1983

 The alarm sounded at 9 and I had a good cough which annoyed Ally intently. I went downstairs to make boiled eggs and toast and went out to buy a Daily Telegraph and post my letter to Mum. I climbed into the bath and Ally ironed her smalls. Felt tired all day and after a morning stroll we went upstairs and slumbered for a few hours. Feeling refreshed I went and pulled pints with fury in lounge 2. It was a steady night with none of the recent hysterics. Looking at the pair of us Roy says he can see why we are so compatible. He always has such a twinkle in his eye. Marie seems to be annoyed about something and pulls faces like dear Mama does. R went off to a party. The washer up -a new slave - took Ally and I for the Barneses children. Roy and Marie didn't find this amusing. We lay awake for ages. Read my Ken Follett book.

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