_. 1st Sunday after Trinity
Felt better tolday, but slightly wobbly. At 12 we went to the Ship Inn at Bishop's Sutton. Joined by Graham, Gill, Andrew, Richard, good Eileen, Philip Middlebrough and his blond wife, Carol [nee Rodger] &c. Richard was twinkling with glee at my downfall. He too has experienced a drunken splash in the Itchen. It's one of Graham's party pieces evidently. Ally had whitebait, but I had no appetite. In fact I was quite miserable, and Ally kept digging me in the ribs. Back to Chillandham Cross for coffee, and then the London people disappeared. We ate dinner on a massive new dining table. The wine affects Bessie with remarkable speed. She giggles and chatters more readily.
We messed around foolishly until about 9 o'clock. We should have left earlier but a final drink at the Plough set us back somewhat. Ally played under her car bonnet with a can of oil. Home to Guiseley at almost 2am. We squabbled about whether we should go to Lidget Green or Guiseley, and I won.
-=-
20200525
Saturday June 7, 1980
_. Still wet from the river, we climbed into Neil's car and went off to Southampton, supposedly for a fried breakfast. I proceeded to vomit in various places in the town, and the lads went into a transport cafe. I slept on the way back to Martyr Worthy and went to bed. Vomit here too. Ally kept bringing me refreshments. Bessie took it very well, and laughed at the way I kept apologising for my disgraceful behaviour. She was a nurse in the way years, of course.
We were supposed to be going up to London. Graham, Gill and Neil went to Trader Vic's bar at the London Hilton, then on to Richard and Eileen's party. [Graham spent £8.80 on three drinks]. Ally didn't leave me, and stayed at home in front of the TV. Bessie brought me hot soup at 7:30 and I was sleeping by 9. So angry at missing a party. I am relieved that Frank wasn't here to experience my alcoholic frolic.
-=-
We were supposed to be going up to London. Graham, Gill and Neil went to Trader Vic's bar at the London Hilton, then on to Richard and Eileen's party. [Graham spent £8.80 on three drinks]. Ally didn't leave me, and stayed at home in front of the TV. Bessie brought me hot soup at 7:30 and I was sleeping by 9. So angry at missing a party. I am relieved that Frank wasn't here to experience my alcoholic frolic.
-=-
Friday June 6, 1980
_.To Windsor this morning. Dear Windsor has such memories for me of Uncle John and Sheila, brother John, Denise and the Bier Keller, &c. Swamped in nostalgia. We inspected the castle and St George's Chapel. The state apartments were closed owing to the imminent arrival of Her Majesty for Royal Ascot week. An amusing incident in St George's Chapel. A group of Americans gathered around the effigies on the tomb of King George V and Queen Mary were wondering why the 20th century monarch was lying so close in proximity to Mary, Queen of Scots! I could not contain myself. I could not stand by and allow the debate to continue and so I explained to the party that THIS Queen Mary was the wife of King George V, and that they were the grandparents of the Queen. 'Oh, I thought they were just shacking up together', exclaimed a southern belle.
We saw a plaque on Lord Mountbatten's Garter stall, dedicated last December. His banner was, of course, removed on the day of his assassination.
To the Star and Garter for lunch. Ate a T-bone steak. We sat beaming at each other. A lovely day. The whole week has been a great success.
To Chandler's Ford to see Frank at 7:30, and then to the Otter, and the Plough, which was deserted. Joined by Graham and Gill, drinking Carlsberg Special. Neil, the barman, is a one man riot. We all became exceedingly intoxicated. Back to Chillandham Cross to smoke, drink vodka, and play pontoon. Ally disappeared to bed leaving Graham, Gill, Andrew, Neil and I gambling at 2p per stake. At some late hour, close to dawn, Graham suggested we go for a dip in the river Itchen and without further ado we stripped and walked across a couple of fields to an easily accessible spot on the river bank. A mist hung over the river like a shroud. I was first in, almost swimming over a weir. After a lengthy splash around I crawled onto a bank, shaking with cold, and cramp. The Carlsberg Specials had frozen solid in my stomach. We made our way back to Chillandham Cross.
-=-
We saw a plaque on Lord Mountbatten's Garter stall, dedicated last December. His banner was, of course, removed on the day of his assassination.
To the Star and Garter for lunch. Ate a T-bone steak. We sat beaming at each other. A lovely day. The whole week has been a great success.
To Chandler's Ford to see Frank at 7:30, and then to the Otter, and the Plough, which was deserted. Joined by Graham and Gill, drinking Carlsberg Special. Neil, the barman, is a one man riot. We all became exceedingly intoxicated. Back to Chillandham Cross to smoke, drink vodka, and play pontoon. Ally disappeared to bed leaving Graham, Gill, Andrew, Neil and I gambling at 2p per stake. At some late hour, close to dawn, Graham suggested we go for a dip in the river Itchen and without further ado we stripped and walked across a couple of fields to an easily accessible spot on the river bank. A mist hung over the river like a shroud. I was first in, almost swimming over a weir. After a lengthy splash around I crawled onto a bank, shaking with cold, and cramp. The Carlsberg Specials had frozen solid in my stomach. We made our way back to Chillandham Cross.
-=-
Thursday June 5, 1980
_. Hoy again. Ally and I went to Brighton in the afternoon. My first visit to this peculiar resort. We inspected the Royal Pavilion - a remarkable building. We sat on the pebbles eating cheese burgers and chips, ice cream, and cockles and mussels. Nude bathers are allowed on the beach but we saw nothing naughty. It must be quite a painful experience rolling around stark bollock naked in the shingle beneath the pier.
Home at 7 with the intention of visiting Frank, but Bessie says he's far too miserable and has requested that we stay away. I took a leisurely bath.
Out to a few pubs in Winchester and then on to the Berni Inn where Ally and John Pinder's ill-fated loved flourished. As we were leaving the restaurant we bumped into Stan the milkman and his nauseating wife. They were friends when she was with John. We were carried off to a tiny house for coffee. It was obvious that we were taken back to be questioned for information to pass on to Pinder, with whom they are still friends. Pinder is living with Mrs S, and Mr S has taken off with the tart from the newsagent's shop. All very sordid. Home after one.
-=-
Home at 7 with the intention of visiting Frank, but Bessie says he's far too miserable and has requested that we stay away. I took a leisurely bath.
Out to a few pubs in Winchester and then on to the Berni Inn where Ally and John Pinder's ill-fated loved flourished. As we were leaving the restaurant we bumped into Stan the milkman and his nauseating wife. They were friends when she was with John. We were carried off to a tiny house for coffee. It was obvious that we were taken back to be questioned for information to pass on to Pinder, with whom they are still friends. Pinder is living with Mrs S, and Mr S has taken off with the tart from the newsagent's shop. All very sordid. Home after one.
-=-
Wednesday June 4, 1980
_. Extremely hot. Frank Dixon's operation was a success but only one [kidney] stone was removed. It's Bessie Dixon's 58th birthday. We sat in the garden drinking lager. Ally stormed around like an enraged puma, into the house to avoid the heat, and then out again. I sat in a deckchair beneath a tree observing the dramatic scene with amusement. Bessie told me, in strictest confidence that 'Alison is so like Frank's mother'. She said it with a face full of fear.
Swilling lager reading a women's magazine and an article on the 'idyllic' marriage of the hideous Dai Llewellyn and Vanessa Hubbard.
After a ham salad we went to Winchester. Ally spent her birthday money on oddments for Ash Tree Cottage [alias, 5, Club St]. The shops were the last place I wanted to be. We are so much happier when we have money.
Tonight we went to meet Graham and Gill at the Otter at Otterbourne. Back at 10:30 to the Plough at Itchen Abbas. Midge told Ally that her perm makes her face look 'softer'. I could tell from the moment we walked in that she was thinking of something suitably bitchy to say.
-=-
Swilling lager reading a women's magazine and an article on the 'idyllic' marriage of the hideous Dai Llewellyn and Vanessa Hubbard.
After a ham salad we went to Winchester. Ally spent her birthday money on oddments for Ash Tree Cottage [alias, 5, Club St]. The shops were the last place I wanted to be. We are so much happier when we have money.
Tonight we went to meet Graham and Gill at the Otter at Otterbourne. Back at 10:30 to the Plough at Itchen Abbas. Midge told Ally that her perm makes her face look 'softer'. I could tell from the moment we walked in that she was thinking of something suitably bitchy to say.
-=-
20200523
Tuesday June 3, 1980
_. Hot day. Ally collected me at 5 in a heavily laden car and we headed down the M1 to Northamptonshire. By 7:30 we were in Towcester and in a pub called the Something Old Oak [Brave Old Oak?]. The service was appalling. The bar staff consisted of one long haired paraplegic with a club foot, and he couldn't add up. Our scampi and chips were late and disappointing.
We arrived at Martyr Worthy at about midnight. Frank Dixon is hospitalised some miles away at Chandler's Ford, awaiting for an op for the removal of a kidney stone. We sat with chocolate cake and coffee. I was put in a bedroom with Andrew and we lay awake talking about his activities. Ally, in the next room, could hear us and expressed amazement at the way I can converse with her 'impossible' brother.
-=-
We arrived at Martyr Worthy at about midnight. Frank Dixon is hospitalised some miles away at Chandler's Ford, awaiting for an op for the removal of a kidney stone. We sat with chocolate cake and coffee. I was put in a bedroom with Andrew and we lay awake talking about his activities. Ally, in the next room, could hear us and expressed amazement at the way I can converse with her 'impossible' brother.
-=-
Monday June 2, 1980
_. Out with Ally to [1] the Cow & Calf, [2] the New Inn, and [3] the Drop. Home at 10, I packed up some belongings and piled them into the Spitfire in readiness for our departure for Martyr Worthy tomorrow.
-=-
-=-
Sunday June 1, 1980
_. Trinity Sunday
Dave G is worried about the Ibiza holiday and the fact that women are in the party. I have the impression that he thinks this will spoil things. He only ever sees Ally when she is crazy and giving one of her fine 'Mrs Rochester' performances.
At 9:30am Dave G and I took off for Leeds to join the party from the EP making their annual 'father's day' excursion to Blackpool. This party also includes females for the first time, and notable in this field are Sarah, Lynne Bateson, Penny Wark, and Nicola Gould. It was a hot day at the seaside. We lost Sarah and Lynne on our way to the fairground, and Dave and I were with Ken Yeadon and Dave Pitts for the day. I took a dip in the sea, and gashed my leg on a rock, and told everyone I'd been the victim of a shark attack. The bus took us on to Skipton, as tradition dictates, to the Albion at 7:30 and we supped until 10:30 there. Sat with Penny and Paul. We had fun time with a pair of magnetic frogs. We sang ourselves hoarse coming home.
-=-
Dave G is worried about the Ibiza holiday and the fact that women are in the party. I have the impression that he thinks this will spoil things. He only ever sees Ally when she is crazy and giving one of her fine 'Mrs Rochester' performances.
At 9:30am Dave G and I took off for Leeds to join the party from the EP making their annual 'father's day' excursion to Blackpool. This party also includes females for the first time, and notable in this field are Sarah, Lynne Bateson, Penny Wark, and Nicola Gould. It was a hot day at the seaside. We lost Sarah and Lynne on our way to the fairground, and Dave and I were with Ken Yeadon and Dave Pitts for the day. I took a dip in the sea, and gashed my leg on a rock, and told everyone I'd been the victim of a shark attack. The bus took us on to Skipton, as tradition dictates, to the Albion at 7:30 and we supped until 10:30 there. Sat with Penny and Paul. We had fun time with a pair of magnetic frogs. We sang ourselves hoarse coming home.
-=-
Saturday May 31, 1980
_. Very wet day. Went with Dave G, Sue and Pete to daub paint on the master bedroom at 23, West End Terrace. We were joined by Chippy and Dave W, and very soon after we escaped to the White Cross for a 'lunch break'. Ally, Sue, Lynn and Dave B didn't appreciate this dereliction of duty. In fact Ally arrived just as we were exiting the house and I greeted her with a 'we're off to the pub'. Back at the house we painted until 6.
Out later to the White Cross and New Inn with Ally, Dave G, Sue, Pete, Dave W and Chippy. Back to Pine Tops at 11:30.
-=-
Out later to the White Cross and New Inn with Ally, Dave G, Sue, Pete, Dave W and Chippy. Back to Pine Tops at 11:30.
-=-
20200522
Friday May 30, 1980
_. A healthy day considering we had the usual disgusting Thursday night. Hot day. Met Dave G from his train at 5:10pm and we walked across town to the Eagle on North St to be the first on the scene for Paul Vallely's farewell party. We crossed the threshold at 5:30 and remained until almost eleven in an assorted company ranging from the sweet Penny Wark to the mercenary, and tarty _______, fresh from a the Halifax Gossip or whatever, and a sordid affair with the exiled Lord Kagan. Spent some time chatting about the village of Dent with Geoff Winter, who was in the company of his common-law niece, Sue Tirpitz. Such a pleasant, drunken night. Onward to Paul's house at 11 with Dave, Penny and her boyfriend Paul, from Southampton. It was good to see Steve Sharp again. We stayed until one and we got a lift to Guiseley with the kindly John MacMurray [the best man Sarah Collis found and gave up]. He gave me a copy of Nasty Media's 'Spiked Copy'.
-=-
-=-
Thursday May 29, 1980
_. Oak Apple Day
Sitting at my desk this morning my thoughts turned to Charles the Second on this, his 350th birthday. Sad that I found no sprig of oak to adorn my person on this occasion. He [Charles] hid in the boughs of an oak on this day in 1651 following his defeat at the Battle of Worcester. Until the mid Victorian period 'Oak Apple Day' was a day of celebration, but it's now largely forgotten.
To Ally's for steak this evening. She met me at 4:30 in Leeds [she'd been in town buying a birthday present for Catherine]. We went on to Rue Club via Pine Tops allowing me to gather a few personal effects to carry on to Bradford. After dinner we went to Oakwood Hall. A dull night really. The bar staff were serving dry Martini in a one sixth of a gill measure instead of the proper one third of a gill measure, and to make matters worse a fight broke out between a guy who looked like one of the Bee Gees and a skinhead type, and all because of a misplaced ice-cube. Home to Rue Club at 2:30. Bed. Lemonade.
-=-
Sitting at my desk this morning my thoughts turned to Charles the Second on this, his 350th birthday. Sad that I found no sprig of oak to adorn my person on this occasion. He [Charles] hid in the boughs of an oak on this day in 1651 following his defeat at the Battle of Worcester. Until the mid Victorian period 'Oak Apple Day' was a day of celebration, but it's now largely forgotten.
To Ally's for steak this evening. She met me at 4:30 in Leeds [she'd been in town buying a birthday present for Catherine]. We went on to Rue Club via Pine Tops allowing me to gather a few personal effects to carry on to Bradford. After dinner we went to Oakwood Hall. A dull night really. The bar staff were serving dry Martini in a one sixth of a gill measure instead of the proper one third of a gill measure, and to make matters worse a fight broke out between a guy who looked like one of the Bee Gees and a skinhead type, and all because of a misplaced ice-cube. Home to Rue Club at 2:30. Bed. Lemonade.
-=-
Wednesday May 28, 1980
_. Derek Naylor thinks that perhaps the Queen Mother is a bastard. I must have mellowed with the passing years because in times gone by I would have called Naylor out to fight a duel, or reeled in nausea. But Derek makes his comments in such a way that one cannot help but smile.
Ally is unwell. Her stomach is at fault. She slept through two hours of constant bombardment from me on the phone. She came over to ours at 5 to dine with Mama and Papa. No sooner had she eaten that she felt ill, again, and took to a bed in Sue's room for a couple of hours, leaving me with the journals of William Bagshaw Stevens.
Watched a Swedish epic [with sub-titles] on BBC2, and retired to bed with Stevens.
-=-
Ally is unwell. Her stomach is at fault. She slept through two hours of constant bombardment from me on the phone. She came over to ours at 5 to dine with Mama and Papa. No sooner had she eaten that she felt ill, again, and took to a bed in Sue's room for a couple of hours, leaving me with the journals of William Bagshaw Stevens.
Watched a Swedish epic [with sub-titles] on BBC2, and retired to bed with Stevens.
-=-
Tuesday May 27, 1980
_. A batch of photographs arrived this morning. Met Ally in the Central at 1:45. No Kathleen or Sarah today. Delia is judging at the Wetherby Show, or something.
Prince Andrew has arrived at RAF Leeming near York for five months training. He is a midshipman learning to fly. Is it something royal princes should be doing? Remember William of Gloucester.
A royal mystery. It appears that the Earl of Strathmore, father of the Queen Mother, lied, for some inexplicable reason, when registering the birth of his daughter, in September, 1900. It is recorded on her birth certificate that Elizabeth Bowes Lyon was born at St Paul's Walden, Hertfordshire. This has been HM's acknowledged place of birth in all works of reference since. Her Majesty has even unveiled a plaque commemorating her birth at the church there. Now Clarence House has announced that in fact HM was born in London, at an undisclosed address. All the more intriguing because they don't reveal exactly where. They probably have no idea. Was the dear lady, the greatest Queen Consort this nation has ever known, perhaps born above a Chinese laundry in Wapping?
-=-
Prince Andrew has arrived at RAF Leeming near York for five months training. He is a midshipman learning to fly. Is it something royal princes should be doing? Remember William of Gloucester.
A royal mystery. It appears that the Earl of Strathmore, father of the Queen Mother, lied, for some inexplicable reason, when registering the birth of his daughter, in September, 1900. It is recorded on her birth certificate that Elizabeth Bowes Lyon was born at St Paul's Walden, Hertfordshire. This has been HM's acknowledged place of birth in all works of reference since. Her Majesty has even unveiled a plaque commemorating her birth at the church there. Now Clarence House has announced that in fact HM was born in London, at an undisclosed address. All the more intriguing because they don't reveal exactly where. They probably have no idea. Was the dear lady, the greatest Queen Consort this nation has ever known, perhaps born above a Chinese laundry in Wapping?
-=-
20200520
Monday May 26, 1980
_.Carole P is three months pregnant by Mick L. She is in poor health, and I am told that she and Mick are unwilling to enter into Holy Matrimony and are happy to let things go on as they are. She was in the White Cross on Friday. Poor Carole.
Rang Glynnie to give him the news about his Ibiza holiday bill. He wasn't expecting £269. Neither were we.
With Ally to West End Terrace for a couple of hours. Saw Pete's grandmother, old Mrs Nason, who is well over 80. She's a sweet old thing with a great wit and sense of humour.
To the YP at 5pm. Home by taxi at midnight. My driver pulled heavily on his pipe. Sat choking in fumes from the old shag, or ready rubbed, or whatever.
-=-
Rang Glynnie to give him the news about his Ibiza holiday bill. He wasn't expecting £269. Neither were we.
With Ally to West End Terrace for a couple of hours. Saw Pete's grandmother, old Mrs Nason, who is well over 80. She's a sweet old thing with a great wit and sense of humour.
To the YP at 5pm. Home by taxi at midnight. My driver pulled heavily on his pipe. Sat choking in fumes from the old shag, or ready rubbed, or whatever.
-=-
Sunday May 25, 1980
_. Whit Sunday
We set off for Dumfries which we reached at about 6am, very low on fuel. On to Castle Douglas where we ran out of petrol and we sat until 9:30 waiting for a garage to open. John was very calm about this in the way he is always calm about everything, and he showed us the early morning sights of Castle Douglas, a God forsaken Scottish hamlet.
We couldn't sit in the van for any length of time because Jimmy's bowels 'were playing up' and the wind blew with gusto, the sound of which must have disturbed the sleepy community from its slumbers. Re-fuelled and supplied with eggs, bacon and milk we headed for Lochans in pouring rain arriving at Lochans at 10:30am. With the piano and bath unloaded we made for the pub, but not before John had run around on a wet football pitch. He plays for the Lochans team.
The cottage is a masterpiece. His fireplace is breath taking. We set off in an homeward direction at 1:30, calling at Glenluce, Newton Stewart, Dumfries and Annan. John was feeling decidedly rough. Jimmy insisted on eating mutton pies and we drank greasy, milky tea in a cafe. At Dumfries we slept in the van and became a peep show for the amusement of Scottish trippers. John made a recovery, and we journeyed on. The 24 hour adventure had been gruelling, but amusing. The fuel was low [again] and we reached Skipton and then onto Burley intact. We had a drink at the Malt Shovel and then went to Ridgeway to see Maria and Karim. We had beef burgers and beans and then I returned to Pine Tops.
-=-
We set off for Dumfries which we reached at about 6am, very low on fuel. On to Castle Douglas where we ran out of petrol and we sat until 9:30 waiting for a garage to open. John was very calm about this in the way he is always calm about everything, and he showed us the early morning sights of Castle Douglas, a God forsaken Scottish hamlet.
We couldn't sit in the van for any length of time because Jimmy's bowels 'were playing up' and the wind blew with gusto, the sound of which must have disturbed the sleepy community from its slumbers. Re-fuelled and supplied with eggs, bacon and milk we headed for Lochans in pouring rain arriving at Lochans at 10:30am. With the piano and bath unloaded we made for the pub, but not before John had run around on a wet football pitch. He plays for the Lochans team.
The cottage is a masterpiece. His fireplace is breath taking. We set off in an homeward direction at 1:30, calling at Glenluce, Newton Stewart, Dumfries and Annan. John was feeling decidedly rough. Jimmy insisted on eating mutton pies and we drank greasy, milky tea in a cafe. At Dumfries we slept in the van and became a peep show for the amusement of Scottish trippers. John made a recovery, and we journeyed on. The 24 hour adventure had been gruelling, but amusing. The fuel was low [again] and we reached Skipton and then onto Burley intact. We had a drink at the Malt Shovel and then went to Ridgeway to see Maria and Karim. We had beef burgers and beans and then I returned to Pine Tops.
-=-
Saturday May 24, 1980
_. John walked in at 9:30am with JPH and Catherine. My brother is shaggy and bearded looking more Scottish than James Robertson Justice [was he a Scot?] or maybe Robert the Bruce. The children were hot, red and ill. John, fatter, disappeared in the direction of town with Maria and returned later in the afternoon with a van for the forthcoming piano and bathroom suite expedition. I asked to accompany him to Lochans and he beamed. Jimmy is joining us too.
Ally came over and we went to West End Terrace for the duration. She was very sweet about me leaving her tonight. Blimey, when did John and I last have an adventure together? Collected a cooker for Sue and Pete and then went to Ridgeway. Said goodbye to Ally at the Shoulder of Mutton and then John, Jimmy and I left for Stranraer. We made the error of stopping in Ilkley 'for a drink' and subsequently John was exhausted and only just managed to make it over the border without collapsing at the wheel. We had tea and sandwiches in a dreadful border cafe followed by a unanimous decision that we park up for a few hours because while chatting with Jimmy about UFOs and Christopher Marlowe I took a glance at John and was horror-struck to see he, the driver, with his eyes closed at the steering wheel. Sitting in a lay by I drifted off to sleep listening to Jimmy droning on and on expounding his belief that Shakespeare never actually existed. After a couple of hours we set off again for Stranraer.
-=-
Ally came over and we went to West End Terrace for the duration. She was very sweet about me leaving her tonight. Blimey, when did John and I last have an adventure together? Collected a cooker for Sue and Pete and then went to Ridgeway. Said goodbye to Ally at the Shoulder of Mutton and then John, Jimmy and I left for Stranraer. We made the error of stopping in Ilkley 'for a drink' and subsequently John was exhausted and only just managed to make it over the border without collapsing at the wheel. We had tea and sandwiches in a dreadful border cafe followed by a unanimous decision that we park up for a few hours because while chatting with Jimmy about UFOs and Christopher Marlowe I took a glance at John and was horror-struck to see he, the driver, with his eyes closed at the steering wheel. Sitting in a lay by I drifted off to sleep listening to Jimmy droning on and on expounding his belief that Shakespeare never actually existed. After a couple of hours we set off again for Stranraer.
-=-
Friday May 23, 1980
_. Delia phoned me this morning to chastise me for my debauched behaviour in recent times. She says, and quite rightly, that I am overdoing things. She also confided in me that Sarah returns home from work these days saying she finds nothing to speak to me about any more and that I am impossible. How peculiar. The tales of Bill North are vomit provoking.
At 6pm Sue and Pete took possession of 23, West End Terrace, Guiseley, and within minutes a gathering of clan occurred with champagne [courtesy of Mama], to commemorate the historic acquisition. Looking around the property I felt panic at the sight of the scruffy decor, cringing at the prospect of been called upon to assist with renovations. Lynn, Dave, Sue, Pete and I adjourned to the White Cross. Joined by Chippy and Debbie.
-=-
At 6pm Sue and Pete took possession of 23, West End Terrace, Guiseley, and within minutes a gathering of clan occurred with champagne [courtesy of Mama], to commemorate the historic acquisition. Looking around the property I felt panic at the sight of the scruffy decor, cringing at the prospect of been called upon to assist with renovations. Lynn, Dave, Sue, Pete and I adjourned to the White Cross. Joined by Chippy and Debbie.
-=-
20200518
Thursday May 22, 1980
_. Felt ghastly all day and incapable of work. Sarah gave we woeful looks as I sat quivering and heaving like a cholera victim, or the Rt Rev William Gordon Fallows, Bishop of Sheffield [deceased], a Parkinson's sufferer. Fortunately Kathleen left at 12 thereby enabling me to do sweet sod all in the afternoon.
To Club Street at 5 for a hurried dinner with Ally and then it was back to Leeds to the Lounge Cinema at Headingley for 'Heaven Can Wait', a Warren Beatty film, and 'Smokey and the Bandit', starring Burt Reynolds. I'd seen the first film before, with Jacq, and Ally was surprised I wanted to see it again 'not a Michael film at all' was her verdict. I do have a soft spot for Dyan Cannon, and do have a small amount of romance in me.
Back to Pine Tops at 11 for drinks with Jim and Margaret. I slept extremely well. Nisi quando Podagra molesta est.
-=-
To Club Street at 5 for a hurried dinner with Ally and then it was back to Leeds to the Lounge Cinema at Headingley for 'Heaven Can Wait', a Warren Beatty film, and 'Smokey and the Bandit', starring Burt Reynolds. I'd seen the first film before, with Jacq, and Ally was surprised I wanted to see it again 'not a Michael film at all' was her verdict. I do have a soft spot for Dyan Cannon, and do have a small amount of romance in me.
Back to Pine Tops at 11 for drinks with Jim and Margaret. I slept extremely well. Nisi quando Podagra molesta est.
-=-
Wednesday May 21, 1980
_> Ally is 22 today. Dry day. We met at 12 and partook in alcoholic beverages at [1] The Ostlers, [2] Russell's Bar, and [3] Jacomelli's, Boar Lane. Afterwards she went skipping into a shop and bought two dresses. Walking hand in hand through town we bumped into Sarah.
We went back to Club Street with a couple of singles, gifts from me. 'Stomp' by the Brothers Johnson, and 'Funky Town' by Lipps Inc, the twelve inch disco single. She bathed. We went to Guiseley, where I did a quick change, and then on we went to Lynn & Dave's [with Sue & Pete] for chicken. Afterwards to the Queen's [Lynn's favourite Burley pub]. Ally and I went to Oakwood, just the two of us, from 10:30 to 1:45.
Back and Pine Tops we ate fish cakes in my bed.
-=-
We went back to Club Street with a couple of singles, gifts from me. 'Stomp' by the Brothers Johnson, and 'Funky Town' by Lipps Inc, the twelve inch disco single. She bathed. We went to Guiseley, where I did a quick change, and then on we went to Lynn & Dave's [with Sue & Pete] for chicken. Afterwards to the Queen's [Lynn's favourite Burley pub]. Ally and I went to Oakwood, just the two of us, from 10:30 to 1:45.
Back and Pine Tops we ate fish cakes in my bed.
-=-
Tuesday May 20, 1980
_. Rain. To work in an overcoat. How utterly miserable. Jim says that Patrick ventured out for the very first time on his own, yesterday. [Well, except for the time last week when he walked into Guiseley to collect a prescription for Muriel's bowel ailment]. The lad went with a few friends to Cambridge where he had 'an experience' in a punt and missed the last train home.
King Henry VIII married Jane Seymour upon this day in 1536. Was she his favourite Queen? I think so. I rang my favourite future queen at the Bradford AHA and engaged in a complex and confused conversation centred upon the trivialities of this world that I've generally allowed to pass me by. Tomorrow is her birthday. Bless her, she'll be 22. We are spending the afternoon in Leeds and going on to Lynn and Dave's for dinner. What time was she born? Her mother cannot remember and so this vital item of information is lost forever. Astrologically, it's a terrible omission.
At lunchtime I went into the Central library and took out a volume of diaries of the Rev William Bagshaw Stevens, who kept a journal from 1792 until his death in 1800 at the age of 45. I do hope one day that someone somewhere will have the good sense to set my journal down in print. I'm not writing crouched uncomfortably on my bedroom floor for the good of my health, you know. Mind you, I hold, and never shall hold, a government post, or be headmaster of Repton, but surely someone will derive pleasure from my illiterate, abusive ramblings? Tonight I sat reading the clergyman's journal which is crammed with Latin and Greek quotes, and little else. Some entries are so brief, they're worthless. I feel quite proud of myself turning out page after page of action-packed riveting script. Goodnight. Magno cum conatu magnas nugas dicit. Caw! Caw! Caw!.
-=-
King Henry VIII married Jane Seymour upon this day in 1536. Was she his favourite Queen? I think so. I rang my favourite future queen at the Bradford AHA and engaged in a complex and confused conversation centred upon the trivialities of this world that I've generally allowed to pass me by. Tomorrow is her birthday. Bless her, she'll be 22. We are spending the afternoon in Leeds and going on to Lynn and Dave's for dinner. What time was she born? Her mother cannot remember and so this vital item of information is lost forever. Astrologically, it's a terrible omission.
At lunchtime I went into the Central library and took out a volume of diaries of the Rev William Bagshaw Stevens, who kept a journal from 1792 until his death in 1800 at the age of 45. I do hope one day that someone somewhere will have the good sense to set my journal down in print. I'm not writing crouched uncomfortably on my bedroom floor for the good of my health, you know. Mind you, I hold, and never shall hold, a government post, or be headmaster of Repton, but surely someone will derive pleasure from my illiterate, abusive ramblings? Tonight I sat reading the clergyman's journal which is crammed with Latin and Greek quotes, and little else. Some entries are so brief, they're worthless. I feel quite proud of myself turning out page after page of action-packed riveting script. Goodnight. Magno cum conatu magnas nugas dicit. Caw! Caw! Caw!.
-=-
Monday May 19, 1980
_. Royal news: The Queen's cousin, the Hon Elizabeth Elphinstone, has died aged 68. Something of a recluse she lived for some years on a commune. The Queen, not plunged into family mourning, today visited the Chelsea Flower Show.
In other royal news, the Lord Mayor of York is to petition the Queen to create Prince Andrew Duke of York. I have every faith the the Queen will one day bestow this much loved peerage on her second son, and doesn't need to be reminded of this by some upstart of a Lord Mayor. King George VI held the title for 16 years, and it 'merged in the crown' on the abdication of King Edward VIII in 1936.
The Times today says that the Queen will invite the Pope to make a visit to the UK when she visits him in Rome in October. Hard to believe, isn't it? For centuries we officially boycotted all things papist. Talk of the Prince of Wales marrying a Roman Catholic will be re-kindled, no doubt.
Charles's old flame, Lady Sarah Spencer, married Neil McCorquodale on Saturday. That's another name to cross off the list. The girl has red hair and that, as far as I'm concerned, is far more objectionable than any religious differences. Given the choice of the next Princess of Wales being RC or a red head, and I'll go for the former any day.
A film on the telly. A Burt Lancaster western in which Audrey Hepburn plays a Red Indian squaw rather badly. And so to bed, at midnight.
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In other royal news, the Lord Mayor of York is to petition the Queen to create Prince Andrew Duke of York. I have every faith the the Queen will one day bestow this much loved peerage on her second son, and doesn't need to be reminded of this by some upstart of a Lord Mayor. King George VI held the title for 16 years, and it 'merged in the crown' on the abdication of King Edward VIII in 1936.
The Times today says that the Queen will invite the Pope to make a visit to the UK when she visits him in Rome in October. Hard to believe, isn't it? For centuries we officially boycotted all things papist. Talk of the Prince of Wales marrying a Roman Catholic will be re-kindled, no doubt.
Charles's old flame, Lady Sarah Spencer, married Neil McCorquodale on Saturday. That's another name to cross off the list. The girl has red hair and that, as far as I'm concerned, is far more objectionable than any religious differences. Given the choice of the next Princess of Wales being RC or a red head, and I'll go for the former any day.
A film on the telly. A Burt Lancaster western in which Audrey Hepburn plays a Red Indian squaw rather badly. And so to bed, at midnight.
-=-
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