_. A very historic day. I came home from work at 5pm and almost immediately Susie told me that she and Peter are to become engaged on her twentieth birthday and that they intend to marry next summer. I'm not too startled because it was obvious that the events of last week showed it was either make or break between them and things could not continue at stalemate and five years of courtship. They say they made this decision at Cracoe on Saturday, but Peter doesn't wish to make it public just yet. He, the coward, is terrified of coming straight out with it and seeking the consent from Mum and Dad. So we are all in the ridiculous position of knowing the news, but that it cannot be discussed openly.
So, this evening when Lynn and Dave came here for dinner we could talk of nothing but Ally's new job and the merits of mother's apple pie. Peter came here at 8 and stayed until after 10, and silence - dreadful silence - reigned. At 8:30 I escaped the cloister-like sitting room and paid a visit to Jim Rawnsley's house (No 50 Hawksworth Lane). I took him some information on George Cattermole, a Victorian water colourist. Jim bought a Cattermole picture at the weekend and he was intrigued by my findings. The precocious Jennie was on top form. Had a beer and looked at his collection of antiques. I do believe that Jim is a very shy man. Shy people make me very uneasy. I am only ever uneasy with shy people or archbishops. Back at home the silence continued. Alison and I kept looking at each other in that pathetic, helpless fashion more characteristic of sheep on moorland slopes. Peter left at 10:30 and I departed to bed.
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20180611
Sunday June 10, 1979
_. Trinity Sunday
I am now out of the deck chair, but it is Sunday. Well, er, no. Actually we are fifteen minutes into Monday. Anyway, you probably can imagine what occurred today in the sun-drenched garden at Pine Tops. I sat in a heap reading Queen Mary (Bloody Mary, not Mary of Teck or Mrs William of Orange) and occasionally I dropped from a tree onto an unsuspecting Alison. Sue and Pete continue to play at dislocating each others hip and shoulder joints, and pounding each other with tennis balls. Mum and Dad had the good sense to avoid us completely by sitting at the front of the house and only communicating with us through the open dining room window. Very sensible.
Evidently, Alison and I disturbed Motherdear when we came in at 1am. She blamed my 'low pitched voice' which she said carries more than anyone else's. I'm quite happy and relieved to know I sound like Sir Geraint Evans, and not some revolting soprano.
At 6:30 to Lynn & Dave's for nosh and gallons of alcoholic refreshment. Lynn is positively blooming and glows like a little fluorescent light-bulb. She concocted a salad and we all joked and howled until nearly 12. Peter and I tend to become somewhat lewd. Alison and I sat together like an old established couple. It is as if we have always been together. A boy called Mark from Martyr Worthy has called her twice since she arrived on Friday. I feel jealous, yes jealous.
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I am now out of the deck chair, but it is Sunday. Well, er, no. Actually we are fifteen minutes into Monday. Anyway, you probably can imagine what occurred today in the sun-drenched garden at Pine Tops. I sat in a heap reading Queen Mary (Bloody Mary, not Mary of Teck or Mrs William of Orange) and occasionally I dropped from a tree onto an unsuspecting Alison. Sue and Pete continue to play at dislocating each others hip and shoulder joints, and pounding each other with tennis balls. Mum and Dad had the good sense to avoid us completely by sitting at the front of the house and only communicating with us through the open dining room window. Very sensible.
Evidently, Alison and I disturbed Motherdear when we came in at 1am. She blamed my 'low pitched voice' which she said carries more than anyone else's. I'm quite happy and relieved to know I sound like Sir Geraint Evans, and not some revolting soprano.
At 6:30 to Lynn & Dave's for nosh and gallons of alcoholic refreshment. Lynn is positively blooming and glows like a little fluorescent light-bulb. She concocted a salad and we all joked and howled until nearly 12. Peter and I tend to become somewhat lewd. Alison and I sat together like an old established couple. It is as if we have always been together. A boy called Mark from Martyr Worthy has called her twice since she arrived on Friday. I feel jealous, yes jealous.
-=-
Saturday June 9, 1979
_. Up at about 10:30 and waved goodbye to Mum and Dad who went off to St Anne's for the day.
Sue & Peter now 'very much in love' and slobbering over each other, were pelting tennis balls at each other in the garden with all the fury of Ukrainian shot-putters. I put it down to the frustration of the past couple of weeks. They departed to Cracoe near Skipton for luncheon.
Alison and I had breakfast together and then went to look at a house in Haworth. I have never been to inspect a house before and it proved embarrassing. The house (£5,000) had been decorated by a family with the imagination of otters, and the interior resembled Windscale Nuclear Power Station. They, who were selling, seemed terrified, and stood wide-eyed, like rabbits in the headlights, nervously nudging each other. We went into the Black Bull for a few drinks and to discuss the property. I am as knowledgeable on this topic as I am on early Italian literature.
At 3pm we went on to Oakwood (not the hall) and then to an estate agent in Keighley. Ally is definitely bitten by the house-buying bug. It felt good dashing across the countryside with Ally in her little car. As you know, I am almost totally besotted by her.
Home for 5pm and sat with Sue & Pete the love birds. Susan without Peter is like lager without blackcurrant or Hitler without Eva Braun. The four of us went up to the Cow and Calf where I spent over £2 on a round of drinks. The girls were on massive port and lemons. Half pints of port at 90p a gulp! On to the Red Lion at Burley-in-W and then, as a grand finale, to the Prachee Indian at White Cross. Did a good deal of laughing, observing the other drunken diners. Home at almost 1am.
-=-
Sue & Peter now 'very much in love' and slobbering over each other, were pelting tennis balls at each other in the garden with all the fury of Ukrainian shot-putters. I put it down to the frustration of the past couple of weeks. They departed to Cracoe near Skipton for luncheon.
Alison and I had breakfast together and then went to look at a house in Haworth. I have never been to inspect a house before and it proved embarrassing. The house (£5,000) had been decorated by a family with the imagination of otters, and the interior resembled Windscale Nuclear Power Station. They, who were selling, seemed terrified, and stood wide-eyed, like rabbits in the headlights, nervously nudging each other. We went into the Black Bull for a few drinks and to discuss the property. I am as knowledgeable on this topic as I am on early Italian literature.
At 3pm we went on to Oakwood (not the hall) and then to an estate agent in Keighley. Ally is definitely bitten by the house-buying bug. It felt good dashing across the countryside with Ally in her little car. As you know, I am almost totally besotted by her.
Home for 5pm and sat with Sue & Pete the love birds. Susan without Peter is like lager without blackcurrant or Hitler without Eva Braun. The four of us went up to the Cow and Calf where I spent over £2 on a round of drinks. The girls were on massive port and lemons. Half pints of port at 90p a gulp! On to the Red Lion at Burley-in-W and then, as a grand finale, to the Prachee Indian at White Cross. Did a good deal of laughing, observing the other drunken diners. Home at almost 1am.
-=-
Friday June 8, 1979
_. Sarah and I went to Len's Bar and drank gin and tonic in the gloom of the crypt-like wine bar. The prices are quite ridiculous. £1 for two miserable drinks! We talked about Jacq. Evidently I am labelled 'the Iceberg'.
Tonight: Susan hadn't heard a word from Peter and so at 7 Ally and I went to Morrison's so that she could cash a cheque for £25 and then we had a quick one at the Crown in Yeadon before collecting Sue at 8 o'clock. We intended going to the Drop Inn but half way down the lane (in the Spitfire) we passed Peter driving in the opposite direction. Sue immediately joined him and we went to the Drop together. Back home at 11:30. Mum held her silence and tripped off to bed shaking her head.
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Tonight: Susan hadn't heard a word from Peter and so at 7 Ally and I went to Morrison's so that she could cash a cheque for £25 and then we had a quick one at the Crown in Yeadon before collecting Sue at 8 o'clock. We intended going to the Drop Inn but half way down the lane (in the Spitfire) we passed Peter driving in the opposite direction. Sue immediately joined him and we went to the Drop together. Back home at 11:30. Mum held her silence and tripped off to bed shaking her head.
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Thursday June 7, 1979
_. I cannot write much because I'm slung between two deck chairs in the garden and it doesn't encourage me to scribe in any way. (By the way, it isn't Thursday. I left this page blank and have come back to it a few days later. In fact, it's the weekend and that's why I am in a deck chair).
I met Jacq at lunchtime at Len's Bar. I told her of Sarah and Richard's split, and a gleam appeared in her eye. Will Mr Burke, now free, escape Jacq's grasp?
Alison arrived at about 6pm to take up her new existence in Yorkshire. Mrs Dixon phoned Mum this morning and was quite upset by her daughter's departure. It is all for the best. Lynn and David B came a couple of hours later and so too did Jim & Margaret. ([Papa just walked past with a box full of lawn clippings and I am now a sticky mass of green. Some people have an odd sense of humour, don't they?)
Back to Thursday: Susan was out with Janet Simon at the Fox until about 10. I felt exhausted and by midnight and made my exit from the company. As I went I overheard people saying 'he has no stamina' and that 'it must be his age'.
-=-
I met Jacq at lunchtime at Len's Bar. I told her of Sarah and Richard's split, and a gleam appeared in her eye. Will Mr Burke, now free, escape Jacq's grasp?
Alison arrived at about 6pm to take up her new existence in Yorkshire. Mrs Dixon phoned Mum this morning and was quite upset by her daughter's departure. It is all for the best. Lynn and David B came a couple of hours later and so too did Jim & Margaret. ([Papa just walked past with a box full of lawn clippings and I am now a sticky mass of green. Some people have an odd sense of humour, don't they?)
Back to Thursday: Susan was out with Janet Simon at the Fox until about 10. I felt exhausted and by midnight and made my exit from the company. As I went I overheard people saying 'he has no stamina' and that 'it must be his age'.
-=-
Wednesday June 6, 1979
_. The Queen failed to win the Derby and I lost 50p because of it. Some upstart by the name of Willie Carson riding Troy achieved victory by seven heads, or was it seven lengths? It certainly wasn't seven arm chairs or seven salmon sandwiches. King Edward VII is the only sovereign to have won the Derby, but no doubt our own dear Queen will succeed one day. Saw HM on the news at last night's concert in honour of Sir Robert Mayer's 100th birthday and thought how wonderful it would be if she could live to climb out of bed on the morning of April 21, 2026, in the 75th year of her reign. To equal Victoria's 64 years she has to live to be a mere 89, which isn't an impossibility. The Queen Mother must stay with us until she's 85 years 304 days to be our longest lived Queen Consort. The present record holder here is the Queen's grandmother, Queen Mary. Crikey, I could go on all night with royal statistics.
Alison phoned tonight and confirmed she is moving north tomorrow. She has put a letter in the post to Mama, but it has yet to arrive here. She starts working in Bradford on Monday. She didn't sound enthusiastic ____________.
Mummy has given me detailed instructions on how to behave and conduct myself when Ally is here. A sort of 'Scarborough warning' which made me feel almost like a small child, or unruly Labour Cabinet minister on the carpet at Number 10. In fact, Mother was in one of her critical moods all evening and was quite ridiculous. Most of the time I think her flared tempers can be laid at the door of high blood pressure, so I don't put such flare ups down to insanity.
On the other hand Dad is too placid for comfort. He would make an ideal archbishop of Canterbury. In fact, when old Dr Cobweb retires in January I really think that Dad should put himself forward for election. Just one problem here. He says he's a Methodist, whatever that is.
To bed at 11:15 after viewing the running of the Derby no fewer than seventeen times. A hoodlum hurled a toilet roll at Yves St Martin and he rocketed around Epsom trailing ten yards of Andrex behind him.
Came to bed with 'Bloody Mary' by Carolly Erickson. She must be an American writer because she is almost illiterate. "The duchess of Norfolk and marchioness of Salisbury fell from favour", &c. Don't they do capital letters in Pennsylvania?
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Alison phoned tonight and confirmed she is moving north tomorrow. She has put a letter in the post to Mama, but it has yet to arrive here. She starts working in Bradford on Monday. She didn't sound enthusiastic ____________.
Mummy has given me detailed instructions on how to behave and conduct myself when Ally is here. A sort of 'Scarborough warning' which made me feel almost like a small child, or unruly Labour Cabinet minister on the carpet at Number 10. In fact, Mother was in one of her critical moods all evening and was quite ridiculous. Most of the time I think her flared tempers can be laid at the door of high blood pressure, so I don't put such flare ups down to insanity.
On the other hand Dad is too placid for comfort. He would make an ideal archbishop of Canterbury. In fact, when old Dr Cobweb retires in January I really think that Dad should put himself forward for election. Just one problem here. He says he's a Methodist, whatever that is.
To bed at 11:15 after viewing the running of the Derby no fewer than seventeen times. A hoodlum hurled a toilet roll at Yves St Martin and he rocketed around Epsom trailing ten yards of Andrex behind him.
Came to bed with 'Bloody Mary' by Carolly Erickson. She must be an American writer because she is almost illiterate. "The duchess of Norfolk and marchioness of Salisbury fell from favour", &c. Don't they do capital letters in Pennsylvania?
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Tuesday June 5, 1979
_. Further horrible and traumatic developments regarding Susan and Peter. He came waltzing in here at 8pm saying nuthin', and for a few moments we sat in embarrassed silence. I pulled my volume on Bloody Mary closer to my face and peered at the scene from page 195. Susan leapt from her chair and dragged him outside only to return after minutes alone, and Peterless. Like Neville Chamberlain she has been issuing ultimatums. ___________. I think it has come down to this - 'the lads or Susan'. He's going to have to pick Sue. After all can 'the lads' comfort you in sickness and in health, make Yorkshire puddings, or raise your fat, bouncing blue-eyed children?
On the topic of broken romances, Sarah has gone and kicked Mr Richard Burke into touch. She's been going about the office threatening to jump from the roof and behaving generally irresponsibly all round. Once again it falls to me to bind her wounds and restore some level of sanity and stability into her existence.
Alison is supposed to be coming here on Thursday. She got the job at Bradford Area Health Authority and has been in touch with Lynn, but we have heard nothing.
What a soddin' week. Christine's cataclysmic tidings; Sue and Peter's dispute; Sarah's delicate matter. Whatever next? Oh yes. The sudden rise to power of the Ayatollah Rawnsley. No doubt his revolutionary council will be executing NALGO members in City Square.
To be at 12 with Mary Tudor. Is the Queen going to win the Derby tomorrow?
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On the topic of broken romances, Sarah has gone and kicked Mr Richard Burke into touch. She's been going about the office threatening to jump from the roof and behaving generally irresponsibly all round. Once again it falls to me to bind her wounds and restore some level of sanity and stability into her existence.
Alison is supposed to be coming here on Thursday. She got the job at Bradford Area Health Authority and has been in touch with Lynn, but we have heard nothing.
What a soddin' week. Christine's cataclysmic tidings; Sue and Peter's dispute; Sarah's delicate matter. Whatever next? Oh yes. The sudden rise to power of the Ayatollah Rawnsley. No doubt his revolutionary council will be executing NALGO members in City Square.
To be at 12 with Mary Tudor. Is the Queen going to win the Derby tomorrow?
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