Sunday October 12, 1980

_. 19th Sunday after Trinity

Home to Bradford from the Browns at three, four or five. I discarded everything female and returned to the sanity of manhood. Slept. Ally went to the Belfry at 11:30. I walked home in the sun to Guiseley. I didn't walk all the way, but most of it.

A family gathering. Sue, Pete, Lynn and Dave came for tea and buns. We giggled at a Peter Sellers film from 1963 where he played a Scouse clergyman. Ally dropped in mid-afternoon, but left just as I was getting used to her. I felt buggered and slept in a chair to the backcloth of 'Songs of Praise' on the BBC, which in my twilight existence made me think I was ascending into Heaven, but serenaded by out of tune choristers from a provincial town. Eventually I went up to bed.

Mama and Papa are going to see Ruby and Arthur in Norfolk on Wednesday. The Gadsbys are in Norfolk now, and so it might be quite wild.

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Saturday October 11, 1980

Brown, Nicola Gould, Dame Edna.

_. Up at 12. Had a message via Mama from Lynn that she will be coming with Dave's Cub Scout cap for Ally this afternoon. I hung around and waited until 3. I phoned Ally at 2:45 and she was still in bed. I went to Bradford at 4pm buying a pair of young, firm turnips en route. These, as you can imagine, are to form my cleavage. Ally makes a splendid cub. Horribly sexy.

Carol, Dame Edna, Cub Scout & Laurie Mercer.

To the Bod for a couple of hours at 6:30 and then back to Club St to dress for Brown's party. When dressed I do look more like Dame Edna than the Queen of Denmark, in my blond wig, Crimplene frock, and aquamarine clip-on earrings. Ally did my makeup and clad in pewter coloured tights I set out with a Cub Scout at the wheel to Brown's in Chapel Allerton, arriving at 11. I was, with all modesty, a roaring success. My appearance heralded a series of sexual assaults open my person, and I was the butt of many bawdy jokes. Ally was gorgeous. She does put up with such a lot. No sign of Sarah. Carol J came with Gavin [Summers], a new YP reporter. Drank gallons of red wine and ate nothing but sticks of celery. Home to Bradford from the Brown's at three, four or five.

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Friday October 10, 1980

Christine Dibb.

_. Out with Dave L. Quite a session really. First to the New Inn where we encountered Carole Phillips and Naomi. Carole looked well and beautiful even though she is almost a mother. I was intrigued when she said to me: 'You look normal, for a change.' After intensive probing from me she elaborated. 'You are usually freaky these days.' Me, 'freaky' ? On to the White Cross in search of Sue and Pete, but no sign of either. Dave spotted Christine Dibb and made an immediate beeline for her. I finished my pint and Dave took the hint. On to the Shoulder. Fighting our way to the bar we met Philip Cartwright [see journal 1973-4]. Dave can tell a really good tale. He should write, or go on the stage. Home at 10:45. Dave came in for a drink. Watched a Clint Eastwood film until almost 1.

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Thursday October 9, 1980

_. To Ally's from the YP. We trundled off in Charles to a pizza place on Manningham Lane, Mama Mia's, I think. Ally had lasagne and I had a seafood pizza. We were in and out in a flash. To the 'Mucky Duck' off Manningham Lane, but we sat uncomfortably. I can never sit and drink at the same time. I have to lean on a bar. On to the Bod, always excellent.

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Wednesday October 8, 1980

_. More wet. Heard my alarm but snuggled beneath the quilt for ten minutes refusing to make a start to the day. A gloomy journey to Leeds with the Rawnsleys. I suppose insanity is an excellent qualification for running a metropolitan city council.

St John Stevas: like Disraeli?

Cheered to read in the papers that the government will strengthen the House of Lords against abolition moves by a future Labour government. Just how will they do this?

Norman St John Stevas is a Tory of the 'old school', almost like Disraeli. It would be nice if one day he could perhaps have a bash as prime minister. I don't suppose he's strong enough.

Had several choppy and valueless conversations with Ally. In the end we decided we will go and eat out tomorrow night, probably a pizza in Bradford.

Lynn and Dave came at 8 in a new Vauxhall Cavalier, which looks good. David however doesn't like it, and so a change can be expected. He bought an old Cub Scout uniform for Ally to wear on Saturday.

Took a bath and watched TV. Katie Boyle and King Hussein of Jordan, &c. Michael Parkinson was the limit and I adjourned to bed at 11:05pm.

The biography of the Prince of Wales is as I suspected - repetition. I could concoct a similar book in two weeks given the proper typewriter and enough paper. And I keep saying I don't know what to do with my life. Come on, Michael!

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Tuesday October 7, 1980

Queen of Denmark: more my size.

_. Constant rain. Wind. Like winter. What ever happened to the Indian Summer?

At the YP: discussing my outfit for the fancy dress party Sarah suggests I wear a bra. Isn't that going a bit far? Michael Brown thinks I should attend as a crowned Head of Europe, and not as Dame Edna. I did give this some thought. Perhaps Queen Beatrix of Holland, or the ex-Queen of Italy? Mind you, the Danish monarch is perhaps more my size.

Scratched around at lunchtime, quite penniless and destitute. Carol J and I hid when a bespectacled Marxist wench from 'downstairs' came collecting money for our trade union. After the Labour conference I do not want to give them a single penny. I am, however, a coward.

Derek Naylor has given me a biography of the Prince of Wales which doesn't seem up to much. I probably won't even look at it, but it is good of him.

Spoke to Ally at 3. Derek Jenkins is driving her mad. His brooding, Welsh persona is suffocating all at Daisy Bank. We are not seeing each other until Thursday.

It's all so boring, isn't it, dear reader? And it is hardly likely to improve with the passage of years. You have had my best years already, and all I can provide now are the pathetic thoughts of an ageing nonentity. On the up side I have a fine head of hair, no grey as yet, and I am writing without spectacles. I do not look too broken yet.

Mum and Dad went to see Lynn and Dave. They returned at 10:30 saying Dave has spent a riotous day terminating his employment with Thompson & Spencer. He starts his new job tomorrow.

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Home at 6. Got another soaking. Mum and Dad seem quiet, and the sitting room has taken on a grim atmosphere. Perhaps nothing is amiss, but I am super sensitive in this area.

Monday October 6, 1980

_. Woke up at 8:30. My alarm clock had been over-wound and subsequently had not sounded off. Phoned Ally but got no reply, and ran out into the cold and drizzle snarling and gnashing my teeth. What a hideous start to the week.

Got to the office at 9:30 and phoned Ally. She too had been late in to work, but only by 15 minutes. Phoned home. No reply. It must be Papa's day off, and I suspect they have both escaped to some exotic place.

Home at 6. Still no sign of my parents and so I made eggs and chips, with something called 'Luncheon meat'. Greasy, but substantial.

Watched 'Coronation Street' but was interrupted by Dave L on the phone with a further bulletin on the stray sheep saga. He had decided to take the animal with him to school this morning, to brighten one of his biology classes, but the bloody thing gave him the slip through a hole in his garden hedgerow. No doubt the animal is now nothing more than cutlets in the refrigerator of some eagle-eyed Yeadon butcher. Dave suggested we might go out for a drink on Friday.

Callaghan: tomatoes?

Ally has found me a pair of size nine women's shoes, white with silver stars, and Andrew, the chef at the Belfry, has provided a wonderful wig. I am becoming so excited about Brown's party.

Have I, in the past few weeks, mentioned the Iran-Iraq War? Good. In that case I need say no more.

In other news, Mr Callaghan is going to announce details of his future plans on October 15. I suspect he will accept a peerage, remove himself to the Channel Islands, and grow tomatoes.  The Conservative party conference opened today in the serenity of Brighton. I do like Mrs Thatcher, even now. I say that because already so-called loyal Tories are disputing her policies. I am firmly behind her. In the latest poll from the States Ronald Reagan is ahead of Jimmy Carter. Oh God. Jimmy Carter may be weak, but Ronald Reagan is a lunatic. Hattie Jacques has died aged 56. This is sad. I always found her facial expressions quite hilarious.

Mum and Dad came home at 9:30pm. They'd completed an all round trip of Yorkshire, as I suspected.  Mum looks pale and fatter. To bed at 12.

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Sunday October 5, 1980

_. 18th Sunday after Trinity

Rain and colder. Home to Guiseley at 12:30. I watched as Mum and Dad brewed beer in the kitchen.

Watched an early Peter Sellers epic - 'Two Way Stretch'. Ally was back with me at 3.

We drove to Haworth in pounding rain to buy Lynn and Dave a picture for Christmas. Yes, bloody Christmas shopping. The place was crowded, and I was cold and hungry.

Back to Guiseley and the delights of Harry Ramsden's. We ate by the fire alone as Mum and Dad had gone to Sue & Pete's for Sunday dinner. Ally left at 6:15.

Sheep: evading capture.

Dave L phoned to say he found a stray sheep whilst out walking the dog. He chased the poor animal through the streets of Yeadon as it tried to evade capture. I told him to contact Horsforth police. I wrote to Dave yesterday, but it won't be with him until tomorrow.

Watched 'American Graffiti' a newish US film depicting adolescent life in the '50s.

To bed at 12:30 quite washed out.

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Saturday October 4, 1980

_. Up at 9:30. To Ally's for the day. I put my hand to a spot of window cleaning, after she chastised me for not doing any work. I could hardly see her, shrouded in steam from the washing.

To an Oxfam shop at 1pm for a Dame Edna outfit for Michael Brown's party. I bought a handbag, a hat, and a pair of Dame Edna type spectacles. The old lady shop assistant cast some funny looks as I rummaged through the second hand frocks. Back at Club Street we had an hilarious half hour as I modelled my Edna outfit. Not a dry eye in the place.

Out at 8pm to the club at Farsley Celtic for Karen's 21st birthday party [she was in a black 'jump suit']. Lynn made public her baby news. At the bar I found myself in the company of _____________, a notorious tart, who was fined £350 in 1976 for keeping a brothel in Pudsey. I also spoke to Jill about my forthcoming drag appearance and she promised to provide me with some burgundy stiletto heels. Thrilled. Tim was very silly, and Diane's boyfriend, Paul, now has studs in both ears. He wore an ACDC badge on his jacket. Marlene was there. Auntie Mabel, bright and chirpy. We all played silly games. The DJ organised a lewd dance to 'Nellie the Elephant' where a circle of men and women standing alternately had to link hands between the legs of their neighbour and perform in a hideous waddle of groping and grovelling with foreign loins. My new friend, the whore, seemed to enjoy this one.

On to St James's Crescent and after more food and wine Ally and I left for Bradford. She looked gorgeous tonight in her 'boob tube' and striped skirt, wearing her hair up. I do love her, you know.

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Friday October 3, 1980

_. A night on the tiles in the usual Friday tradition. Phoned Dave L at 6:30 but he had already planned to go to Sandra's at Otley. No word from Pete Mather, as I expected, because tomorrow is Martyn C's wedding, and I suspect a select pre-nuptial gathering is taking place somewhere. Pete phoned when I was out on Tuesday night inviting me to Martyn's stag party on Wednesday, but it would have meant borrowing money, and so I declined the invitation.

At 8 I walked down to Sue & Pete's and the three of us crossed the road to the White Cross. On to the Shoulder where we met Chris and Audrey Rycroft. I couldn't work up any excitement. Married couples talk only of rate bills, and the price of frozen pizzas. I was saved by the arrival of Gus & Johnny. [Johnny is home from London where his claim to fame was making love to a 'Bunny Girl']. A riotous evening developed. On to the New Inn where we met Dave W and Ken. Home at 11:30, drunk. I blame the whisky. Sat watching the ghastly Desmond Morris on TV.

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Thursday October 2, 1980

_. At the YP today it soon became very obvious that my catastrophic and sudden bout of illness is not as convincing as I thought it might be.

Lynn & Dave.

Out at 8 with Ally, Lynn and Dave to Dave & Elaine Allinson's at Rawdon. We were dreading it really because they are always banging on about abortion, homosexuality, dogs, piles, mortgages, oral sex, rape, and more mortgages, not forgetting the all important topic of breast feeding.

Lynn and Dave were subdued because Mandy Baker has suffered a miscarriage. She was expecting a baby two weeks before Lynn is due. Naturally, old fears are exhumed.

Back to Pine Tops at 12:30 [just Ally and I]. Hilda and Tony are with Mum, Dad, Jim, Margaret and Julie. It was disclosed that Pamela N is now 'living in sin' with her elderly boyfriend __Gwilliams. I sat gasping for breath amidst the smoke fumes from Hilda and Tony. Eventually driven upstairs. Joined by Ally.

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Wednesday October 1, 1980

Ally & Charles le Citroen.

_. At 8am I put a call in to Shazzo, and Ally the same to Catherine Brook to confirm our attacks of diarrhoea and Legionaire's Disease. Then we made egg sandwiches and went to Harewood House to gasp in wonderment at the emu and ormolu. I irked Ally somewhat going on and on about my dinner with 'Bambi' Countess of Harewood in '77. Maria Callas had just died and George, Lord Harewood, for that reason, was indisposed. He was in his study compiling an obituary for the great singer. From Sunny Harewood we drove to Knaresborough, where I slept, and then on to Les Haute Pins for chicken din dins.

Lady Diana Spencer is not related to the late Michael Miles, and neither is Olav V, King of Norway. [Olav is not related to Michael Miles, but most definitely related to Lady Diana].

Felt sleepy disgustingly early. Ally left at 10-ish, and I went to bed at 10:30 to avoid the ice skating on TV.

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Tuesday September 30, 1980

_. Felt sufficiently secure to travel to Leeds with Jim & Jennie. She has now taken to locking my car door, as if she worries that I might wish to take my own life, throwing myself from the car as we speed through Headingley.

Dismal day. Shazzo plagues me, but I find her great fun all the same. All the others are so dull these days.

Sarah: afraid of Wedgwood Benn.

Sarah says she is afraid of Wedgwood Benn. I tried to reassure her telling her that he could never come to power having such ridiculous policies, but she insists it's only a matter of time. He plans to abolish the House of Lords, withdraw from the EEC, and nationalize everything in sight. Someone really should put a stop to him.

JPH's fourth birthday. Mum phoned John but JPH was out with Alec Clanachan [their only neighbour]. He promised to have the child phone her back. He did so, at 7:30, and I had a few words. He then sang 'Happy Birthday to You' for his Grandma, and she responded by calling him 'my little kipper face.'

I phoned Ally at 4:30. She was bored and suggested we venture out for alcoholic refreshment. I agreed wholeheartedly. To the Drop, the Crown at Yeadon, and then New Inn, followed by 'Time and Place' in Bradford. The latter quite excellent. Most things are quite excellent. Home in the early hours of Wednesday having taken the decision that neither of us have any intention of making an appearance at our places of work.

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Monday September 29, 1980

_. Sunny, but autumnal. With Ally to Rawdon, no Horsforth, where I got the bus to Leeds. She disappeared to Bradford in Charles Citroen.

At the YP for 8:10. Busy day. Read the Sunday papers, full of the Labour split. Callaghan may resign. I break into a cold sweat at the thought of Wedgwood Benn, I really do. John and Maria are now fanatical supporters of the Left, and were expounding their revolutionary beliefs on Saturday, in a Scottish tavern. I blame the Macdonald brain-washing, because John was never politically motivated.

Wyatt: Diana's ancestor.

Study Lady Diana Spencer's line in greater detail. She is descended from Sir Thomas Wyatt, who led the rebellion against Henry VIII in 1533, and from the 2nd Duke of Norfolk, grandfather of the unfortunate Queens Anne Boleyn and Catherine Howard. Also up the tree are the Egerton Dukes of Bridgwater, the Villiers Earls of Jersey, the Forbes Earls of Granard, &c. One could go on indefinitely.

Phoned Ally tonight because I was too busy to do so in the day. Tony [from the Plough, Itchen Abbas] and Neil, came up to see her at 8 on Saturday morning, to find her absent. All that way for nothing.

Sue and Pete made a hurried visit solely to deliver laundry. I am now resigned to the fact that I left, abandoned, with Mama and Papa. They have accepted my 'dirty weekend' without comment, and the 'when are you going to get married?' jokes have ceased.

To bed at 12 after Barry Norman's 'Film 80'.

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Sunday September 28, 1980

_. 17th Sunday after Trinity

A cold fried breakfast again. The proprietress of the Marine guest house, whose private room abutts our room, held an orgy in her suite last night for what sounded like the Provisional IRA [Stranraer] branch. We had difficulty sleeping with the noise, and loud Irish expletives.

At Corner House Cottage.

To Corner House Cottage. Ally and I went on a walk gathering blackberries, 3lb in all. At 12:30 Mum, Dad, Lynn, Dave, Sue, Pete, Ally, JPH and I went to the Stoneykirk Hotel, a charming hotel set in its own grounds. Lunch. Scampi [again], and drank in the garden. JPH was so well behaved and charming. He found a playmate whom he referred to as 'the wee girlie'.

The question was asked. Why have we be staying at the sordid Marine Guest House when we could have stayed at the Stoneykirk?

The cottage renovations.

Later Ally and I picked more blackberries and then we left at 4. It's always a sad sight seeing John standing in the bracken waving ferociously until we disappear from view.

A tortuous journey home. Ally felt ill. She can only travel comfortably when she is the one doing the driving. We stopped at Whoop Hall, for drinks. Home at 10:30.

Saw Alan Ayckbourn's 'Bedroom Farce'. The man is a genius.

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Saturday September 27, 1980

_. Maria's arrangements with the slovenly proprietress of the Marine guest house, Stranraer, saw Ally and I sharing a room last night. We have not previously paraded this aspect of our relationship before Mum and Dad before, and I felt uneasy. They ignored our cohabiting and didn't even venture near to room 9, the scene of the crime. The 'guest house' leaves a lot to be desired. The fellow inmates at breakfast, in the main suspicious Irish characters chewing on their fatty bacon and making noises over their greasy pots of tea. It was not the happiest sight to start the day.

Out to the shops at 9:30. Bought John a Barry Manilow album. He likes that sort of thing. Meanwhile at the cottage he and a slave named Bertie were busily building a brick wall around the property. No doubt to ward off gangs of local brigands. Dad was roped in and Mum was busy cuddling babies and making the caravan quiver. We escaped to Port Patrick and the Crown Inn. Had scampi again. Joked about Ally's drink problem. She drinks gin like water, and with little effect. More food at the caravan and then we ventured into Stranaer. On to the Coachman's, for loud, pulsating music. Back to Lochans at 12. All jolly.

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Friday September 26, 1980

_. Up at 9. Our departure for Scotland was delayed for an hour or so. Sue, Pete, Lynn & Dave arrived and we packed the cars. Those who like meddling under cars did so. Off to Scotland at 11.

We had a lunch break at Whoop Hall, near Kirkby Lonsdale, left there at 2, and arrived at Lochans at 6. We ate, drank and made merry in the caravan until after 9 and then we went to the local pub in Lochans [name forgotten] leaving Mum and Dad with the children.

JPH seems almost school-worthy, but Catherine hasn't changed since we saw her in the Spring, and she shuffles around on her diminutive rear.

The cottage is marvellous, and almost ready for habitation. I do not know how they can stand it in the confined, claustrophobic space of the caravan.

Lynn announced her pregnancy.

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Thursday September 25, 1980

_. John is 24. He phoned and sounded genuinely grieved at the loss of the Spitfire. It was his originally, and it holds memories for him dating back to the last summer of his freedom in the steaming swelter of '75.

I dashed from the YP and into the sunshine this evening feeling elated. The place is oppressive and constricting and I haven't had a decent break since the Ibiza fortnight. Pay day too. So looking forward to seeing John, Maria and the dear children.

Lynn: the smoking has ceased.

Ally came at 8, weighed down with luggage in readiness for the Scottish fling. Hilda and Tony were supposed to come too but backed out at the last minute. Tony cited the plumbing at Mabel's flat as an excuse. Joined by Jim, Margaret, Lynn and Dave. Lynn now drinks only very moderately. The smoking also ceased before her pregnancy because she's seen reports that children are born under developed when born to mothers who smoke regularly in pregnancy. Wise of her.

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Wednesday September 24, 1980

_. Hungover, but soon recover thanks to Shazzo's Paracetamol tablets. Drank dark, murky coffee from the machine and attempt to recall last night's movements. Spoke to Ally, also feeling diabolical.
[She brought me as far as Rawdon in Charles at 8. I couldn't face Jennie in my frail condition].

Robert III.

Spent the day researching Lady Diana's family tree. I have found one common ancestor for both Lady Diana and the Prince of Wales. You already know that she descends from Charles II illegitimately via Lennox, Duke of Richmond. Now I find she has a legitimate line from Robert III, King of Scots. The Prince of Wales has several lines of descent from Robert, and the Queen Mother descends from Sir John Lyon, who married Robert III's sister. The majority of our old aristocratic families can find a Royal Stuart in their annals.

Watched 'Coronation Street'. Quite compulsive viewing. Ovaltine. Bed.

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Tuesday September 23, 1980

Charles, the Citroen.

_. To Ally's from the YP. Historic day. Henry, the beloved Triumph Spitfire, has gone to the knackers yard and has been replaced by Charles [pronounced the French way], the Citroen Dyan. A petrol-blue P registered motor. I do hope Ally has more luck with Charles. Henry came to her in the autumn of his existence and was a constant source of pain and distress to his doting mistress.

I have found a suitably Scottish flavoured vintage portrait to make a birthday card for my brother. It's Sir Fitzroy Maclean, Bt [1835-1936], upright, clad in his splendid tartan and covered in orders of chivalry. The old boy was the last survivor of the Charge of the Light Brigade, in the Crimean War.

To the Belfry at 9:30 to collect Ally's money, and on to Guiseley with fish and chips. I was horribly intoxicated, serenading Ally with a selection of Stevie Wonder's greatest hits.

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Monday September 22, 1980

_. Warm, but dull. Rain later. Read in Saturday's Guardian that the recent volcano eruptions have also ruined the weather in '81.

Sat at my desk reading the diaries of Barbara Castle, serialised in the Sunday Times. She doesn't come across as being quite as monstrous as I always imagined her to be.

Phoned Ally. She is collecting the Citroen tomorrow. I will never see the Spitfire again. Sad really.

Diana's lineage.

Researched the lineage of Lady Diana Spencer. Her aristocratic connections are phenomenal. She is descended from the Dukes of Abercorn, Richmond, Gordon [extinct], Bedford and Marlborough. The Earls of Sunderland, Gower, Howe, Cork & Orrery, the Marquesses of Hertford, Viscount Torrington, &c. Through Richmond she is a direct descendant of Charles II. Not even the future Charles III can claim that distinction. Ideal Queen material.

Dave L phoned tonight. He had finished marking his homework, and was bored by the TV. He recently went to London and sought refuge with Denise for the night. She is now back in these parts complaining that in London the only way to get on is to sleep with everyone. Tired of doing this she is now running a travel agents in Horsforth. I arranged to meet him on Oct 3, or Oct 4.

Steak and salad for dinner. Excellent. I told Mum that this is not the way to get rid of me.

TV tonight. 'The French Connection' again. Auntie Hilda phoned Mum. Phil and Denise were married on Saturday.  Retired at 11:30.

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