Thursday February 14, 1980

_. Valentine's Day

Left for the YP before the postman had been and so I didn't witness the arrival of the thousands of Valentine's day cards.

Delia phoned, and I was made to own up to sending her a card. She was chuffed to arseholes, if you pardon the expression. She could not recall when she last received such a tribute.

This evening I went by train to Bradford where I met Ally on the steam filled platform to the crescendo of violins. We were Trevor Howard and Celia Johnson in 'Brief Encounter'.

To Rue Club for dinner: something from the crockpot. At 9 we tore over to Les Haute Pins to join Mum, Dad, Hilda, Tony, Lynn, Dave, &c. It is rumoured that Tony has had a falling out with the Liberal party and that he won't be standing for the council again.

I have three Valentine messages. One posted in Leeds, obviously heavily disguised, is from Jacq, and two from Ally, just to deceive, one being home made.

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Wednesday February 13, 1980

_. Ally phoned me at the YP to see if I fancy spending the weekend of March 22-23 at a cottage in Grassington, and all for a mere £12. How can we possibly let it go by?

We were visited in the office by the Hon Chris Monckton.

Met Dad and Michael Sansom at 12:30 and we went to Len's Bar for beer and sandwiches. They had been to Wakefield on a course playing in a mock demonstration, leading to a riot at the police HQ. Prancing police horses, riot shields, police women hurtling imitation bricks and flour bags, &c. All quite ludicrous, but more fun than the lectures they have attended throughout the week. Mike talked of his time in Hong Kong, and it's delights. Did you know that the capital of Hong Kong is Aberdeen? Left them at 1:30 and went to buy a couple of Valentine's cards. One for dear Ally and one for Delia. I sat in Park Square cleverly disguising my handwriting.

Susan cut my hair tonight. Sat looking at Mum clutching her red, hideously swollen finger. Dad made useless suggestions as to how to deal with the painful protrusion. He appeared with a roll of tin foil and a plastic bag. Needless to say, Mama did not entertain him.

Tuesday February 12, 1980

_. To the office with Jim R. Dad joined us because he is attending a course in the metropolis. Jennie gave us a blast of Henry Purcell on her recorder. Playing an instrument in a cramped moving vehicle cannot be easy. Dad could not look at me and we struggled to stifle our giggles. Supposing Jim had braked suddenly?

Abdication? Never.

Following the recent announcement that a certain Dutch Queen is to throw in her crown a poll has been conducted here to test public opinion as to whether our own dear Queen should follow suit and throw in the towel in favour of the Prince of Wales. Of those asked nearly two thirds thought the Queen should 'retire' at the age of 60 [in seven years time]. Let me make it quite clear. The British monarchy is no 'bicycling monarchy' like those over in Holland and Belgium. No other monarch on earth goes through the ritual of a sacred coronation. This sets Britain apart. The Queen dedicated her life to her people and her country in the Coronation oath. She succeeded to the throne 28 years ago at a ridiculously early age, directly because of the abdication of her uncle, Edward VIII. The very word 'abdication' must surely be abhorrent to her. In the years to come, when she is old and fragile, she can hand some of her duties to the Prince of Wales. The British monarch is by tradition a mother or father figure. Her prestige and influence will grow with the passing years, as will her wisdom. For goodness sake let's not hear any more talk of abdication. Besides, how could the Prince of Wales be comfortably crowned in his mother's life time? How could he be proclaimed our 'undoubted King' when his mother is enjoying the rudest of health, astride her horse, at Balmoral?

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Monday February 11, 1980

_. Up at 7:30. Glynnie was making one hell of a racket and didn't seem to notice that Sue and I creep around and talked in hushed, monastic tones. We went to Leeds on the train and I said my goodbyes to Dave at 8:30. He toddled off carrying two of the less intelligent morning papers, and I headed to the office. Sarah has resumed normal relations now that I am restored to full health.

I am told that Malcolm Barker's secretary phoned me on Friday afternoon, and so I waited expectantly for a summons to the oval office, but no summons came. Has Geoff Hemingway been singing my praises?

Mother has a septic finger and looking pained. She is seeing a doctor tomorrow.

To bed after watching Barry Norman. Always a joy to behold.

-=-

Sunday February 10, 1980

_. Sexagesima

Woke this morning to a dilema. Two clocks stand next to the bed. One clock says it's 9:30 and the other says 12 o'clock. Always optimistic I decide that it is the earlier time, but no, it was noon, and Ally was two hours late for the Belfry.

Downstairs we found Glynnie buried in an encyclopaedia. He'd been improving his mind since about 10. Ally handed him £2 and sent him to the local shop. He returned with cans of soup and bacon. Sue and Pete came down from their 'love-nest' and we all ate. At 3 Dave and I went on to Burley-in-W for food with Lynn and Dave. Lynn was wobbly and Dave sat huddled over his architectural drawing board until 10:30. Poor Lynn really does over do it with the bottle.

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Saturday February 9, 1980

_. How disgusting of Ally to forget to go to her shift at the Belfry yesterday. Fortunately for me I phoned the restaurant to report that she was suffering from gastro-entiritis.

Glynnie, Ally and I crammed into the spitfire and went to Yeadon at lunchtime, Did a bit of shopping and called in at the Crown. Ally could not bring herself to touch alcohol. Then to the White Cross where we met Gus, and later Sue and Pete. Gus is always boisterous and controversial and he managed to offend Ally in the first few minutes of our meeting. He made some ridiculous statements about my expanding girth, euthenasia, and the extremely close relationship between Pete & Chippy, wink, wink, nudge, nudge, &c. So devilish. He is going to Greece soon having arranged to meet a friend at the acropolis. To Pine Tops at 3 to collect a pile of records and then we were off again to Bradford.

At Lidget Green tonight with Lynn, Dave, Sue, Pete, Glynnie, Tim & Jill, all to the Second West pub where we met Dave L., poor dejected lad that he is. He told us his mother had moved out of Tennyson Street today to move in with her lover of ten years, in Otley.  Dave went off home at 11 but said he may return tomorrow with the dog.

The party was a bit flat and not a great success. Booze, balloons, and everything. To bed at 6am.

-=-

Friday February 8, 1980

_. At 12 I met Glynnie at Leeds Railway Station. Fell flat on my back on the platform. We went to Len's Bar and were joined by Ally at 12:30. We went on the the Central for a 'few more'. Geoff Hemingway was at the bar and he bought us a round of drinks. I think I can thank Lady Doris Vyner for this. Back to the car at 3pm to find a yellow parking ticket firmly affixed - a £4 fine. On to Club Street. Ally went upstairs and collapsed on her crimson bedspread. Minutes later, Glynnie was on his all fours vomiting, head down the lavatory, then he too collapsed onto a bed. I felt quite forlorn surrounded by dying people. Phoned Dave L and invited him to the party tomorrow.  Ally and Dave slept until after 8. At 9:30 we drove to Pine Tops. Our dinner was waiting for us, warming in the oven. Only Ally and I ate because Dave staggered up to bed and collapsed, yet again. We went on to Oakwood Hall, pulsating with 15 year-olds, but after an hour we returned home exhausted.

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