Monday February 4, 1980

_. A large offering of snow. Travelling to and from Leeds in snow cannot adequately or accurately be conveyed on paper by one who is virtually illiterate.

Read in the unreliable New of the World that Princess Marie-Astrid of Luxembourg and her parents have had an audience of the Pope at the Vatican. The paper says that the meeting was to discuss the possibility of Marie-Astrid's marriage to the Prince of Wales. It is a pleasant thought for one who likes to see blue blood marry blue blood, but I cannot ever see such a union taking place. I stick to my 'English rose' of the British aristocracy theory, despite such juicy morsels that the Queen is so impressed with the Luxembourg princess that she has a framed photo of her upon her desk at Balmoral. The Prince of Wales has yet to meet his princess - I am sure of this.

Candice Bergen: helped me thaw out.

Left the YP at 4:15 because of the driving snow. The bus took 3 hours to reach Guiseley. A plane came down on the Harrogate Road at Yeadon which might have added to the delay.

Candice Bergen was on the telly, in a film, and she helped me thaw out. I phoned Auntie Mabel and told her that weather permitting, Ally and I would take tea with her on Thursday.

-=-

Sunday February 3, 1980

_. Septuagesima

Septuagesima? What is this? From Jacq's extremely uncomfortable settee we went to Club Street for tea and toast at 9am. We clowned around listening to the radio until Ally was so cruelly taken away from me at 10:30 to the call of the Belfry. I was left at the usual bus stop on Manningham Lane, and found myself in the company a possible female Yorkshire Ripper.

Home at 'elevenish' for a second breakfast but this time with Mum & Dad. More tea and toast. For the rest of the day I was like a corpse. I am sure that even President Tito has more 'get up and go' about him today [one thing's for sure. We'd do very well together in a three legged race].

This evening I did pull round slightly to eat dinner and watch TV, and retired to bed only to escape the steel strike which is thrust down out throats night after night.

-=-

Saturday February 2, 1980

_. Snow. Out tonight with Ally, Lynn and Dave to the Emmott Arms, then the Fleece at Horsforth before going on to Jacq's birthday party. I had worried throughout the day, thinking that the snow might put paid to our plans. You know how peculiar Lynn can be about snow lying on the ground.

To Jacq's for 11. Ally and I quarrelled because we got lost on the way. 68, Stanmore Drive proved elusive. Jacq and Paul are truly entwined. It was a good night but the booze flowed too rapidly, and to my horror, at some late hour, I discovered that our supply had expired, whereas I'm usually expired first. Lynn and Dave set off to leave at 3, but Dave started a snowball fight, which came indoors. Jacq's sitting room resembled the south face of the Eiger. Quite riotous. Ally and I slept there on a sofa like refugees. Ally met Eamonn Burke for the first time since June.

-=-

Friday February 1, 1980

_.Hangover. Drank black coffee with my eye balls hanging out. To the YP. Felt like death. I escaped at 11:30 into the sunny, cold, fresh morning. To Bradford where I found Ally looking like a housewife stood over a sizzling lasagne for tonight's dinner. We ate fish and chips from over the road and at 1:30 we returned to Haworth, which looked beautiful shrouded in snow and basking in sunlight. Had a few drinks in a couple of pubs and ended up in the Black Bull. We sat holding hands___________. Back in Bradford for 4 we put a hole in the lasagne and drained a bottle of red wine then sprawled on the rug looking at photo albums.

Phoned Lynn. She says they'll be coming to Jacq's tomorrow if the snow holds off. Ally and I will go even if it means walking to Leeds.

At 6:30 Ally took me to Manningham Lane and then went to her labours at the Belfry. At home I slumped in an armchair until 12:30.

I have a new jacket from Sarah's catalogue.

-=-

Thursday January 31, 1980

_. Marita's 25th birthday. The only other Marita I have ever heard of is Marita Phillips, daughter of Harold Phillips, and sister of the Duchesses of Westminster and Abercorn.

Phoned Jacq's office to discuss Saturday, but her co-workers couldn't locate her. Mr Entwistle, her boss, is probably sick of hearing me.

Sarah was back today looking jaded and pale. Complaining she is starting with conjunctivitis, hence the lack of war paint on her eyes.

No Ally tonight. I phoned Peter to see what the lads are up to. He came at 8:30 to Les Haute Pins and we went to the Fox and Hounds to see Sue and Janet Simon. From the Fox the four of us went to the White Cross. Gus, Johnnie and Neil were in the White Cross, drunk, at a stag party for some misguided soul. Johnny fooling around hilariously with an inflatable doll. They went off to the 148 Club in Leeds. At home later a party was in full swing [Jim & Margaret].

-=-

Wednesday January 30, 1980

Regicide: 1649

_. King Charles I  waved goodbye to his head on the balcony at the Palace of Whitehall 331 years ago today. I am sure that no one had the right to commit such an act upon the anointed sovereign, and by way of protest I always date Charles II's reign from 1649 instead of 1660 when the restoration occurred. The King is dead, long live the King, and all that.

At 5pm I scrounged a lift with Carol J to Kirkstall Forge, where I managed to find a seat on a West Yorkshire bus, a rare and wonderful thing these days.

Tonight I studied the letters in 'The Times'. One from an old geezer with a sense of humour who suggested that since we are to have no Olympic Games this year it would probably be a good idea for a 'pools panel' to sit like they do when soccer matches are not played.

-=-

Tuesday January 29, 1980

_. Rang Ally at 8am to tell her of Glynnie's changed plans. She was still in bed despite the fact that she starts work at 8:30.

I was late to the YP [again], but the boss took it very well.Sarah still laid low at Ivory Towers.

In the news: the dreadful Ayatollah Khomeini is close to death. His ticker is giving up on him.

Confusion has arisen regarding the purchase of the house Sue and Pete laid eyes on last week. I am in no position as yet to enlighten you.

TV tonight: John MacMurray was on the telly talking about an opera singer finding her feet in the operatic world. Later, HRH The Princess Margaret was dishing out the Evening Standard Theatre Awards. She spoke very well and is becoming quite like the Queen Mother, that treasured lady. Norman St John Stevas spoke too. Stevas says he was the first MP to say that Margaret Thatcher would be prime minister, but I have always thought that foresight could be accredited to poor Airey Neave?

The Queen goes to Rome in October, and it was actually reported on ITN that HM and the Pope will discuss the possibility of the Prince of Wales making a Roman Catholic marital alliance. It's out of the question, of course.

To bed at 12:15 with a yellowed volume of Erle Stanley Gardner's 'Perry Mason's Famous Cases'.