Sunday December 14, 1980

_. 3rd Sunday in Advent

Uncle Tony is 45. Slept in the upper sitting room with Dave. Ally woke us at 12:15. Panic. We should have met the lads in the Nelson pub at noon. Frantic dressing. Drove into Stockport and met Billy Garry, Steve and John [the latter is due to become a father on Dec 31]. From the Nelson to the Robin Hood at 1pm. Unfortunately on this occasion the nature of our politics was not asked for and neither were we invited to remain after hours for a 'bona fide' session.

At 3 we had lunch at the Hollywood [the usual leg of lamb] and left at 4:30 returning to Bradford via Ally's old home at Grasscroft, near Dobcross. Home for 7 in time to observe 2 minutes silence for John Lennon. Even the Archbishop of Canterbury stood for a 'lone vigil' taking it a bit too far. 

One drink at the Drop, fish and chips from Westfield Fisheries, home at 9 to decorate the Christmas tree with Mum and Dad. They were drinking rum and orange celebrating the anniversary of their engagement [December 12, 1953]. Ally and I watched a film until 1, giggling like third formers. The room so fresh smelling of pine. Good old Prince Albert.

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Saturday December 13, 1980

_. Mum and Dad still feeling poorly today. At 11 Ally and I set out to Pudsey to pay a call on the other party-goers so brutally struck down. At Waterloo only Tim and Steve were in, and both were sick yesterday. The word diarrhoea was mentioned. After depositing our Christmas cards we left the house of misery and sought out Auntie Mabel at St Lawrence Close. She has shown no signs of food poisoning, and said that _____ made himself ill by the shear quantity he consumed. After a few minutes we left leaving her with Mark and Debbie.

On to Stockport at 1:30. A rogue rodent is causing havoc at the Hollywood Hotel and Dave has bought a kitten [and I name her Sybil]. Ally took an immediate liking to the creature which is odd because she generally loathes cats. Out at 7 to the Steak Kebabs restaurant in Didsbury. I ate an enormous T-bone [again], then we went on to to the Robin Hood until 1:15. The landlord had a 'lock in' after hours. At closing time he asked: 'Do you vote Labour?' When I responded: 'Of course we do' he allowed us to remain. Ally was on brilliant form showing Garry how to throw darts properly. Back to the Hollywood at 1:30. Ally played with Sybil, who clicked her dress. To bed with milky coffee.

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Friday December 12, 1980

_. A day of tranquil repose. Ally was up and off to work at 8 and I slept until she phoned me at 11:30. For a couple of hours I attempted to clean up some of the devastation but a pounding head made me give in at 1pm. Ally came home for lunch. I was slumped on the settee  getting an 'ear full' of Elgar's 'Enigma Variations'. She quickly had a salad and returned to her work at the AHA. I went back to bed until 4:30. I am so pleased I had the foresight to arrange a day off. No way could I have turned up at the YP.

We had a cosy tea together and out we went at 9 to the Belfry where she deposited her waitress uniform and collected £11 holiday pay. Chuffed to arseholes about this. On to a gay celebration in the New Inn. Our usual Friday evening burst of raucous pleasure. The regular inhabitants of Guiseley and Yeadon were making merry. Saw Dave Wainwright, Johnny, Ken, &c.

Ally has decided to throw a party on Boxing Day evening. That part of Christmas can become so boring. The turkey is gone, and the TV is spewing out old film after old film to a snoozing public. 

Home at 11:30. Mum and Dad have upset stomachs. What's worse is Hilda is suffering too. Ally immediately blames herself, and for a couple of hours I persuaded her not to.

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Thursday December 11, 1980

_. Out at lunchtime to Safeways to buy food for tonight's orgy of cousins and aunts. Spent £4 for nothing. Straight to Ally's at 5, and spent three hours decorating the sitting room for Christmas. The walls bedecked in balloons and a little tree flashed in a corner, sparkling with a hundred balls. In the midst of this grotto-building we broke off to buy booze at Morrisons. 

The first to arrive at 8 [as I climbed out of the bath] was Karen and Steve. They are not too upset about the murdered Pudsey landlady - a close friend. Next came Mum, Dad, Jim, Margaret, Lynn, Dave, Sue, Pete, Hilda, Tony, Mabel, Diane, Paul who completed the party. Sprog Cottage packed like the Black Hole of Calcutta. Drank gallons and ate heartily. 

An amiable party in every way. The flashing Christmas tree lights caused no offence, and the tapes of John Lennon's hits were well received. Margaret said, dryly, that she'd never liked John Lennon, but that shooting him was taking it a bit too far. Certain persons were expecting an engagement announcement from Ally and I but none came. After they'd all left at 1am Ally was floored by a falling tin from a kitchen cupboard. We retired at 3.

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Wednesday December 10, 1980

_. On to Leeds from Bradford at 8. A dull day. Every paper full of Lennon's end. Phoned Mum when the news came into the office that Mrs Clay, the wife of the landlord of the Royal pub in Pudsey, had been murdered at Dewsbury Railway station. The Royal is a Karen and Steve stronghold and they'll certainly know the unfortunate dame. Is she perhaps the 14th Ripper victim? 

Phoned Ally too. She came over at 7:30. Coronation Street is really gripping at the moment. Poor Emily has discovered that she's living with a bigamist ['Bigamy? Lady this is bigger than the both of us!]. 

Dave G phoned just to make sure Saturday is still on. Spent the night with Ally in the kitchen mixing pizza pie, and juggling with tarts and flans. By 11 I had had quite enough. Felt buggered. 

Frankie Howerd was on the telly tonight [whilst we were cooking in the kitchen] and we could hear Mum roaring with laughter. I think I can say Frankie is one of the few people who never fails to leave her in fits. Another one is Uncle Harry, but where is he?

Watched a programme on the life of Max Miller and retired to bed at 12:30 where I now sit listening to the rain on the window as I read John Lennon's obituary in the Times. 

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Tuesday December 9, 1980

_. Gloom abounds. Phoned Ally at 7:30 to get her out of her snug, pink bed and she shocked me by announcing that John Lennon, the Beatle, has been shot dead by a mad man in New York. Such a tragic end to a life of genius. For the remainder of the day I was in a state of shock. The Beatles are an important part of our lives and the loss of John Lennon brought memories of childhood flooding back. Those brilliant songs and tunes are engraved on all our hearts. It's obvious that his death has hit everyone. Someone in the office said we are making more of this than both Kennedy assassinations rolled into one, but I do think that Lennon deserves the obsequies befitting a King.

To Ally's at 6. She has bought me the new David Bowie LP as a thank you for my decorating services at Club Street. She spent the evening cleaning and I listened to Mike Read's Lennon tribute on Radio One until 10. Ate fish and chips afterwards and went about with a paint brush touching up here and there.

I have been reflective and subdued tonight. The loss of the occasional superstar moves me immensely.

-=-

Monday December 8, 1980

_. Bitterly cold ... again. YP industrious, but uneventful. Ally has a new girl working in her office, Gillian by name.

Spoke to JPH and Maria tonight. The little boy loves his sister. When Mum referred to her as 'a scamp' JPH barked back: 'Oh no she isn't!' He wants a combined harvester from Santa Claus and a garage with cars. The poor boy's been posting letters up his chimney addressed to the Christmas fairy.

Ally came to tea. Provisions have arrived for her bedroom decor. Pink bedding and curtains. She stayed until 9 and then went back to Lidget Green to festoon her boudoir with the new finery.

Read 'Desperate Remedies' by Thomas Hardy. I found 'The Trumpet Major' immensely readable, and intend reading the complete works of Mr Hardy. Sarah insists he is dull and heavy going, but I disagree. In fact I'm going straight over to my latest book now.

News: Mrs Thatcher's been to Eire. Poland isn't jubilant about a possible Russian invasion. The Prince of Wales is now in Nepal. Does King Birendra have a sister?

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Sunday December 7, 1980

_. 2nd Sunday in Advent

Bitterly cold. Carole is perfectly well [according to Maria]. Sue has heard from Mick Lynch that the baby is to be Jo Louise. Lynch, it seems, has returned to the Lynch nest and Carole has returned to Oakridge Avenue, and the clutches of Margaret Phillips.

Daubed gloss paint all afternoon and finished the small bedroom. Ally fell down the stairs and hurt her back [not seriously] but sat pale and uncomfortable for the remainder of the evening.

To dinner with Mummy and Daddy at 6. Lamb, roast potatoes, &c, followed by lemon meringue pie. A delicious candlelit dinner. Watched TV afterwards, and the late film entitled 'Bring Me the Head of Alfredo Garcia'. Mum and Ally had retired at 11:30. Ally is convinced she is now crippled by her fall.


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Saturday December 6, 1980

_. Very cold. Up at 11. To Bradford with Ally. Paint until nearly 4 and then on to Guy Watson's where we bought John and Maria an oil lamp [£10] for Christmas. To Harry Ramsden's for tea.

We collected Dave L at 8:30 and took him to the Fox & Hounds, Menston Arms and New Inn. Such a good evening. David has such a vivid imagination, he brightens the dullest bar.

Slept at Guiseley. Pine Tops, like an Edwardian country house, with Ally and I padding around like 'Harty Tarty' and 'Skittles'. Oh, yes.

Jayne Waite is pregnant again [3rd], and Helen Malin pregnant [1st]. Must be something in the air.

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Friday December 5, 1980

_. No Shazzo today. Kathleen banged around in the office threatening war. The Russians could do with having Kathleen on their side. She makes Leonid Brezhnev look like Liberace. Home at 6.

Mum and Dad went out for a 'drive' leaving me with mounds of chips and a couple in insipid fishcakes.

Ally came at 8 and we went to the Queen's on Apperley Lane - dead. We laughed nervously as though we were in Rheims Cathedral, not a boozer. After one drink we moved on to the Drop, which was friendly. Mrs Hanson always makes such a fuss of us both. Finally, at 10:30 to the New Inn, always noisy, bright and like an orgy.

I am relieved we have not committed ourselves re the '81 holiday because we are happy and cheerful without worrying about the £300 each. Besides, I've had enough of San Antonio and I prefer the idea of a new pair of shoes and a pot flying pig. Home to watch 'Soap'.


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Thursday December 4, 1980

_. Cold. Traumatic arrival at the office. Kathleen had raised her voice at Shazzo, at which the girl had fled in hysterics from the office locking herself in the toilets for over an hour. At 9:30 she emerged, very tear-stained, and attempted to escape from the YP with her bags. Sarah played a brilliant and spontaneous 'Henry Kissinger' and appeased the bereft Miss Cohen. I sat, wide eyed, at the skill of Sarah's United Nations-like manoeuvre. Shazzo was silent for the rest of the day, but at least we held her.

Onward to Rue Club at 5. Looked for the [Yorkshire] Ripper en route but saw nothing of him. I mused to myself as I journeyed along the dreary city streets that I was in the possession of a very large pair of menacing decorating scissors which would have looked highly suspicious had I been accosted and searched by the boys in blue.

At Ally's I put oyster paint all over her walls. Back to the New Inn for a few drinks before joining Mum and Dad with Jim and Margaret. Ally stayed over.

-=-

Wednesday December 3, 1980

_. To Ally's after the YP and spent the evening hanging wallpaper in the small bedroom. A job well done.Afterwards we sat eating a very weak, meatless soup, washed down with lager. I ache all over from the strain suffered stretching up the walls. I feel like the victim of some medieval torture, the type frequently deployed in the bowels of Pontefract Castle on unfortunate Plantagenet monarchs.

During dinner we suffered the trauma of a telephone call from Mrs Pinder, mother of the infamous John. She was ringing, she said, just for 'a Christmas chat', and went on to inform Ally that John had married Mrs Susan Say, in November, 1979, and they have since had a daughter, Emma, and that they now have a pub in Dorchester. Poor Ally went decidedly pale, but held her composure. _____. Ally always refers to his woman as 'Mrs Say' - her Christian name sticks in Ally's throat.

Listened to music and retired to bed at 12 feeling knackered.

-=-

Tuesday December 2, 1980

_. In my hideous misery yesterday I failed to mention that the former Christine Braithwaite telephoned me regarding ad advert on Friday's YP. She is now living in Burley Woodhead in a rented farm house near the Hermit pub. Sounds opulent.

To Leeds with with Jim, Muriel, Patrick and Jennie - the whole family no less. He refused to discuss his car accident and bit Muriel's head off when she mentioned it. He is acutely sorry for himself.

Mulley: nodded off.

Merlyn Rees's son has spent the day with us receiving library induction treatment from Kathleen. He laughed when I showed him photos of Fred Mulley, then Labour Defence minister under Callaghan, who nodded off while sitting next to the Queen at an air display in 1977. Rees's comment was that this simple slip lost Mulley the chance of attaining glittering high office. Sarcasm, obviously.

Spoke to Ally a few times and received a lovely letter. I am going over to decorate tomorrow. It's long overdue. She is reading a biography of Sarah Bernhardt, someone of whom I know little other than the fact that she frequently slept with Edward VII. But who didn't?

News: Lady Diana Spencer's mother has written to The Times criticising the press for harrassing her daughter from dawn until dusk. I quite agree with her. It's shameful. She also criticised the ridiculous so-called quotes reputedly to have come from Lady Diana and refers to them as 'lies'. Mrs Shand Kydd also mentions the 'Royal Train incident'. Meanwhile HRH is still in India. It is also announced that he will be visiting New Zealand in the Spring.

In other news: Russia will probably invade Poland within the month, by way of a Christmas present. They did Afghanistan at Christmas last year.

Monday December 1, 1980

_. Hideous day of suspense, fear and agony. Climbed out of bed at 6:45 with the feeling that this was to be my last morning on God's earth. Took a lingering look at the view from my window, a final look. Nothing of interest but the temperate milkman making his way through the drizzle with his crates. Missed my lift with JR and got a lift to Leeds with David [from a house halfway down Hawksworth Lane] and his silent brother. I found it odd that when the news came on Pennine Radio and mention was made of the Yorkshire Ripper he immediately tuned into Dave Lee Travis on Radio One. Surely, he is the only man in Yorkshire not interested in 'Jack'? Or perhaps he is Jack?

To Rawdon at 5 for my dreaded session with the dentist. Jim Rawnsley was on the bus. He smashed his car beyond recognition in Horsforth on Nov 21. Thankfully, Jennie was spared. At the dentist I had an odious filling which cost me £8. Home at 6:15 with Papa. Numb and lifeless. Me, not Papa.

Mum and Dad went to Hilda's. I ate at 9:30. Bed at 11:30 with Thomas Hardy.

-=-

Sunday November 30, 1980

_. St Andrew's Day.  Advent Sunday

I believe it's Sir Winston Churchill's birthday today - his 106th. Up at 10:30. Bright, sunny, wintry. Ally, Lynn, Dave and I walked to the Plough at 12. Joined by Graham, Gill, and Tony. Another log fire. Midge looks well, even though she is about to have a second 'big' operation on her legs. Walked back to lunch at 2. An enormous meal in the mock Hepplewhite dining room. Sumptuous.

We left at 5, arriving at snow covered Bradford at 9:30. Dropped Ally off and then on to Guiseley. It was sad leaving her. Mum and Dad were at Sue and Pete's and came in at 10:30, both very quiet.

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Saturday November 28, 1980

_. No snow in this part of the world. Freezing cold day though. After a massive breakfast we went to Winchester - that is Ally and I with Lynn, Dave, Graham and Gill. Had a few drinks in the Southgate. Out shopping afterwards. Ally is a precious thing and a delight to go shopping with. I have never found so much peace in Woolworths or Boots with anyone before. I took her into a hairdresser who pierced her ears with 24 carat gold diamond studded ear-rings. I paid the £8. Spent hours shopping afterwards. Lynn bought an enormous kaftan to wear in the final days of her pregnancy.

Back for steak for dinner at 7 after a brief visit to Graham and Charlotte Smith. We drank whisky and listened to their tales of a recent Sri Lankan holiday. Both well, and eccentric as ever.

Out tonight to the Bush at Ovington, and then the Cart and Horses at Kings Worthy. We had a laugh around a log fire drinking Bell's whisky. They seem to be crazy about log fires in these parts. A lumberjack's paradise. Back at Chillandham Cross we watched Hayley films in the film 'Endless Night' - nauseating.

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Friday November 27, 1980

_. Up at 8:30 to make sure Ally was up and off to her appointment with her hairdresser. The diarrhoea continues. I sat with a black coffee watching the heavy black clouds rolling above. Ally left at 9:20 to rid herself of her 'greasy, unmanageable hair' [her words].

Lynn phoned. I told her to ensure her car seats are covered in polythene sheets because my bowels are not to be trusted on the looming epic journey to Winchester. At 10 it began to snow furiously and reports on the radio say the roads are treacherous throughout the land.

Lynn and Dave collected me at about 2, and we we went to pick up Ally at snow-covered Lidget Green. Her hair is permed. It's the nicest it's been. Clad in her velvet dungarees, which she wore frequently at the onset of our courtship. Good journey to Hampshire. We arrived at Martyr Worthy for 7. Bessie looks fit, but Frank vice versa. On to the Ship Inn at Bishop Sutton, with Graham [fatter] and a limping Gill. I had scampi, but left most of it. On to the Plough at 11. Tony with us. Back to Chillandham Cross at 11:30. Watched Peter Sellers in 'What's New, Pussycat?' To bed at 1:15.

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Thursday November 26, 1980

_. Back to the YP. Carol embraced me when I walked into the office. She likens my entry to the Stanley-Livingstone meeting in a steaming African jungle all those decades ago. Kathleen wept for joy.

Received £8.03 for tips and lineage contributed to the YP in September. Excellent. Out at lunchtime. Bought a bottle of Bell's whisky for Mama's Xmas booze mountain. Bought a 1981 journal - £2.60.

Mum phoned at 3:30 to say Carole Phillips gave birth to a daughter on Nov 25 weighing in excess of 9lb. Dad saw Margaret Phillips [to serve a summons on something] and she told him that the baby is in great shape, but that Carole is quite ill. Bless her, she wanted a girl.

Home in the ice and hail at 6. Soaked to the skin. Still have no appetite and sat poking at some fish, pushing it around my plate. This isn't me at all.

Rachel Roberts: dead at 51.

News: 5,000 die in an Italian earthquake. The YP had a leader today on Lady Diana Spencer 'marriageability'. Rachel Roberts, the actress, dies at 51. In the House of Commons Edward Heath has said nasty things about Margaret Thatcher. Unemployment figures now top 53,000,000.

Watched 'Top of the Pops' on the BBC. It's always good for a laugh watching Dad's reaction to the half-crazed warblers. Watching them from over the top of his Yorkshire Post, bravely accepting everything assaulting his ears.

Jim and Margaret came at 8:30 and stayed until 11. To bed at 12 after 'Soap' on Tyne Tees TV. I look completely washed out.

-=-

Wednesday November 26, 1980

_. Sunny. Up at 10 or thereabouts. Ate little breakfast because my appetite is still wandering around elsewhere. I had a conversation with Ally and we decided to spend lunchtime in some local ale house.

I sat buried in 'The Trumpet Major' - old Hardy really has surprised me quite pleasantly. I always imagined his works to be dull.

Jim Nason.

Ally came at 12:30 and we went to the Fox and Hounds [Menston] where we bumped into Jim Nason and a fellow workmate from Armitage Shanks. He bought us a drink and left at 1:30. The were both jealously observing their managing director entertaining a party from Switzerland to lunch, and wanted to be part of it. Back at Pine Tops we had prawn sandwiches and then Ally returned to her office, and Derek Jenkins, and his filthy Welsh habits.

The Prince of Wales is in India and reports now say that Malcolm Fraser, the Australian prime minister [and other Commonwealth leaders] have been told that the royal marriage to Lady Diana Spencer is scheduled for next June, or October. This has been denied by the palace, naturally. A red-faced Malcolm Fraser has said he hasn't 'let slip' this news, and cries of 'rubbish' and 'codswallop' fly everywhere, but I do think this is it. The royal chips are, as they say, down.

Sir Geoffrey Howe is in trouble over his national insurance mess, and perhaps his head will roll.

Spent the afternoon and evening pouring over 'The Trumpet Major'. The TV is diabolical. To bed at 11:30.

-=-

Tuesday November 25, 1980

_. Bright and sunny. Up at 11. Mama was on the phone talking to Sarah. From the tone of the conversation I gather that Sarah too is laid low with the plague. I laid in my sweaty sheets chortling at the thought of the chaos and pandemonium at the YP library with both it's workers off at the same time.

Ate some breakfast and then went for a walk in the sun to to the library. Did some shopping for Mama. Struggling back up the lane I was made painfully aware how my illness has taken its toll and weakened me. I reached Pine Tops panting and sweating as if I'd just completed the north face of the Eiger.

Ally phoned while I was out and was going to lunch with the desolate Catherine who dislikes her new job in the anaesthetist department.

Susie phoned. Both she and Pete have diarrhoea, and are currently running at West End Terrace. Lynn also phoned, and yes, you've guessed, she too has had a slight attack of the abovementioned ailment. It seems we are all stricken.

Phoned Sarah at 1:30. Delia accused me of ignoring her which is quite accurate really. Sarah giggled at us both being absent from the office and insisted I take tomorrow off as well. 'Let them do some work for a change' she said. This appealed to me greatly.

Brown: attacked.

Sarah told me that poor Michael Brown was beaten up over the weekend in Leeds after being caught up in a women's anti-Ripper demonstration. It seems that the brigands were setting about any males whom they could lay hands on. I do understand the fear women must be feeling in these violent times and this particularly violent area, but by attacking innocent members of the opposite sex I am afraid they are defeating the object.

Had lunch by candlelight at 2pm because the light outside began fading rapidly. Afterwards Papa fell into an immediate sleep [he'd been looking after violent prisoners in Otley since 6am]. I poured over 'The Trumpet Major' and Mama knitted furiously in pink wool. Yet another creation for baby Catherine.

Ally came at 5:30 and we went to Pudsey in the dark and drizzle. To St Lawrence Close. Auntie Mabel looked bright and thinner. I find it hard to believe she is almost 62. Had a heavy dinner here and watched TV until 10:30. Ally and I were huddled on the sofa. I could see that auntie fully approves of her. She is coming to Ally's party on Dec 11.

-=-

Monday November 24, 1980

_. To make matters worse I now have diarrhoea which is most inconvenient. Wet. Diarrhoea's wet too. Woke at 8 to hear Mum giving Ally her alarm call and went back to sleep until 10.

Sat in my warm bed reading about Edward VIII's abdication, which reminds me of my own abdication from the YP. Poor Shazzo is alone with Carol at the office amidst all the Yorkshire Ripper chaos and the Italian earthquake. Sarah is with John MacM in London. However, I do not feel fraudulent in any respect because I simply refuse to shit myself in a newspaper office for £55 a week.

Ally phoned and was bubbly. She's carrying on painting tonight. I had a salad for lunch whilst clutching a hot water bottle between my knees at the same time. An odd combination.

News: The Prince of Wales has gone to India for a week or so which might halt Lady Diana speculation, if only briefly. The boy is far too busy to think about becoming engaged. A report in the Daily Mail this morning likens Lady Diana's eyes ~ the colour ~ to those of Elizabeth Taylor. That will do for me.

Stayed in bed until after 3 when I tired of Edward and Wallis and took up Hardy's 'The Trumpet Major'. I haven't read Hardy before. Spoke to Ally twice. Gill had a motoring accident on Friday and might have broken her nose and hurt her knee whilst writing off her car. Bessie is buying Ally a tumble dryer for Christmas. No longer will Club Street resemble a Chinese laundry. Ally is nervous about being alone in Bradford since the latest Ripper murder. She felt the same after Barbara Leach's murder, &c.

What has become of our poor nation? Just seen footage of a demo in London on Saturday by the so-called British Movement. Pre-pubic skinhead yobs. I'd shoot the lot of them.

-=-