_.Carole P is three months pregnant by Mick L. She is in poor health, and I am told that she and Mick are unwilling to enter into Holy Matrimony and are happy to let things go on as they are. She was in the White Cross on Friday. Poor Carole.
Rang Glynnie to give him the news about his Ibiza holiday bill. He wasn't expecting £269. Neither were we.
With Ally to West End Terrace for a couple of hours. Saw Pete's grandmother, old Mrs Nason, who is well over 80. She's a sweet old thing with a great wit and sense of humour.
To the YP at 5pm. Home by taxi at midnight. My driver pulled heavily on his pipe. Sat choking in fumes from the old shag, or ready rubbed, or whatever.
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20200520
Sunday May 25, 1980
_. Whit Sunday
We set off for Dumfries which we reached at about 6am, very low on fuel. On to Castle Douglas where we ran out of petrol and we sat until 9:30 waiting for a garage to open. John was very calm about this in the way he is always calm about everything, and he showed us the early morning sights of Castle Douglas, a God forsaken Scottish hamlet.
We couldn't sit in the van for any length of time because Jimmy's bowels 'were playing up' and the wind blew with gusto, the sound of which must have disturbed the sleepy community from its slumbers. Re-fuelled and supplied with eggs, bacon and milk we headed for Lochans in pouring rain arriving at Lochans at 10:30am. With the piano and bath unloaded we made for the pub, but not before John had run around on a wet football pitch. He plays for the Lochans team.
The cottage is a masterpiece. His fireplace is breath taking. We set off in an homeward direction at 1:30, calling at Glenluce, Newton Stewart, Dumfries and Annan. John was feeling decidedly rough. Jimmy insisted on eating mutton pies and we drank greasy, milky tea in a cafe. At Dumfries we slept in the van and became a peep show for the amusement of Scottish trippers. John made a recovery, and we journeyed on. The 24 hour adventure had been gruelling, but amusing. The fuel was low [again] and we reached Skipton and then onto Burley intact. We had a drink at the Malt Shovel and then went to Ridgeway to see Maria and Karim. We had beef burgers and beans and then I returned to Pine Tops.
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We set off for Dumfries which we reached at about 6am, very low on fuel. On to Castle Douglas where we ran out of petrol and we sat until 9:30 waiting for a garage to open. John was very calm about this in the way he is always calm about everything, and he showed us the early morning sights of Castle Douglas, a God forsaken Scottish hamlet.
We couldn't sit in the van for any length of time because Jimmy's bowels 'were playing up' and the wind blew with gusto, the sound of which must have disturbed the sleepy community from its slumbers. Re-fuelled and supplied with eggs, bacon and milk we headed for Lochans in pouring rain arriving at Lochans at 10:30am. With the piano and bath unloaded we made for the pub, but not before John had run around on a wet football pitch. He plays for the Lochans team.
The cottage is a masterpiece. His fireplace is breath taking. We set off in an homeward direction at 1:30, calling at Glenluce, Newton Stewart, Dumfries and Annan. John was feeling decidedly rough. Jimmy insisted on eating mutton pies and we drank greasy, milky tea in a cafe. At Dumfries we slept in the van and became a peep show for the amusement of Scottish trippers. John made a recovery, and we journeyed on. The 24 hour adventure had been gruelling, but amusing. The fuel was low [again] and we reached Skipton and then onto Burley intact. We had a drink at the Malt Shovel and then went to Ridgeway to see Maria and Karim. We had beef burgers and beans and then I returned to Pine Tops.
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Saturday May 24, 1980
_. John walked in at 9:30am with JPH and Catherine. My brother is shaggy and bearded looking more Scottish than James Robertson Justice [was he a Scot?] or maybe Robert the Bruce. The children were hot, red and ill. John, fatter, disappeared in the direction of town with Maria and returned later in the afternoon with a van for the forthcoming piano and bathroom suite expedition. I asked to accompany him to Lochans and he beamed. Jimmy is joining us too.
Ally came over and we went to West End Terrace for the duration. She was very sweet about me leaving her tonight. Blimey, when did John and I last have an adventure together? Collected a cooker for Sue and Pete and then went to Ridgeway. Said goodbye to Ally at the Shoulder of Mutton and then John, Jimmy and I left for Stranraer. We made the error of stopping in Ilkley 'for a drink' and subsequently John was exhausted and only just managed to make it over the border without collapsing at the wheel. We had tea and sandwiches in a dreadful border cafe followed by a unanimous decision that we park up for a few hours because while chatting with Jimmy about UFOs and Christopher Marlowe I took a glance at John and was horror-struck to see he, the driver, with his eyes closed at the steering wheel. Sitting in a lay by I drifted off to sleep listening to Jimmy droning on and on expounding his belief that Shakespeare never actually existed. After a couple of hours we set off again for Stranraer.
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Ally came over and we went to West End Terrace for the duration. She was very sweet about me leaving her tonight. Blimey, when did John and I last have an adventure together? Collected a cooker for Sue and Pete and then went to Ridgeway. Said goodbye to Ally at the Shoulder of Mutton and then John, Jimmy and I left for Stranraer. We made the error of stopping in Ilkley 'for a drink' and subsequently John was exhausted and only just managed to make it over the border without collapsing at the wheel. We had tea and sandwiches in a dreadful border cafe followed by a unanimous decision that we park up for a few hours because while chatting with Jimmy about UFOs and Christopher Marlowe I took a glance at John and was horror-struck to see he, the driver, with his eyes closed at the steering wheel. Sitting in a lay by I drifted off to sleep listening to Jimmy droning on and on expounding his belief that Shakespeare never actually existed. After a couple of hours we set off again for Stranraer.
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Friday May 23, 1980
_. Delia phoned me this morning to chastise me for my debauched behaviour in recent times. She says, and quite rightly, that I am overdoing things. She also confided in me that Sarah returns home from work these days saying she finds nothing to speak to me about any more and that I am impossible. How peculiar. The tales of Bill North are vomit provoking.
At 6pm Sue and Pete took possession of 23, West End Terrace, Guiseley, and within minutes a gathering of clan occurred with champagne [courtesy of Mama], to commemorate the historic acquisition. Looking around the property I felt panic at the sight of the scruffy decor, cringing at the prospect of been called upon to assist with renovations. Lynn, Dave, Sue, Pete and I adjourned to the White Cross. Joined by Chippy and Debbie.
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At 6pm Sue and Pete took possession of 23, West End Terrace, Guiseley, and within minutes a gathering of clan occurred with champagne [courtesy of Mama], to commemorate the historic acquisition. Looking around the property I felt panic at the sight of the scruffy decor, cringing at the prospect of been called upon to assist with renovations. Lynn, Dave, Sue, Pete and I adjourned to the White Cross. Joined by Chippy and Debbie.
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20200518
Thursday May 22, 1980
_. Felt ghastly all day and incapable of work. Sarah gave we woeful looks as I sat quivering and heaving like a cholera victim, or the Rt Rev William Gordon Fallows, Bishop of Sheffield [deceased], a Parkinson's sufferer. Fortunately Kathleen left at 12 thereby enabling me to do sweet sod all in the afternoon.
To Club Street at 5 for a hurried dinner with Ally and then it was back to Leeds to the Lounge Cinema at Headingley for 'Heaven Can Wait', a Warren Beatty film, and 'Smokey and the Bandit', starring Burt Reynolds. I'd seen the first film before, with Jacq, and Ally was surprised I wanted to see it again 'not a Michael film at all' was her verdict. I do have a soft spot for Dyan Cannon, and do have a small amount of romance in me.
Back to Pine Tops at 11 for drinks with Jim and Margaret. I slept extremely well. Nisi quando Podagra molesta est.
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To Club Street at 5 for a hurried dinner with Ally and then it was back to Leeds to the Lounge Cinema at Headingley for 'Heaven Can Wait', a Warren Beatty film, and 'Smokey and the Bandit', starring Burt Reynolds. I'd seen the first film before, with Jacq, and Ally was surprised I wanted to see it again 'not a Michael film at all' was her verdict. I do have a soft spot for Dyan Cannon, and do have a small amount of romance in me.
Back to Pine Tops at 11 for drinks with Jim and Margaret. I slept extremely well. Nisi quando Podagra molesta est.
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Wednesday May 21, 1980
_> Ally is 22 today. Dry day. We met at 12 and partook in alcoholic beverages at [1] The Ostlers, [2] Russell's Bar, and [3] Jacomelli's, Boar Lane. Afterwards she went skipping into a shop and bought two dresses. Walking hand in hand through town we bumped into Sarah.
We went back to Club Street with a couple of singles, gifts from me. 'Stomp' by the Brothers Johnson, and 'Funky Town' by Lipps Inc, the twelve inch disco single. She bathed. We went to Guiseley, where I did a quick change, and then on we went to Lynn & Dave's [with Sue & Pete] for chicken. Afterwards to the Queen's [Lynn's favourite Burley pub]. Ally and I went to Oakwood, just the two of us, from 10:30 to 1:45.
Back and Pine Tops we ate fish cakes in my bed.
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We went back to Club Street with a couple of singles, gifts from me. 'Stomp' by the Brothers Johnson, and 'Funky Town' by Lipps Inc, the twelve inch disco single. She bathed. We went to Guiseley, where I did a quick change, and then on we went to Lynn & Dave's [with Sue & Pete] for chicken. Afterwards to the Queen's [Lynn's favourite Burley pub]. Ally and I went to Oakwood, just the two of us, from 10:30 to 1:45.
Back and Pine Tops we ate fish cakes in my bed.
-=-
Tuesday May 20, 1980
_. Rain. To work in an overcoat. How utterly miserable. Jim says that Patrick ventured out for the very first time on his own, yesterday. [Well, except for the time last week when he walked into Guiseley to collect a prescription for Muriel's bowel ailment]. The lad went with a few friends to Cambridge where he had 'an experience' in a punt and missed the last train home.
King Henry VIII married Jane Seymour upon this day in 1536. Was she his favourite Queen? I think so. I rang my favourite future queen at the Bradford AHA and engaged in a complex and confused conversation centred upon the trivialities of this world that I've generally allowed to pass me by. Tomorrow is her birthday. Bless her, she'll be 22. We are spending the afternoon in Leeds and going on to Lynn and Dave's for dinner. What time was she born? Her mother cannot remember and so this vital item of information is lost forever. Astrologically, it's a terrible omission.
At lunchtime I went into the Central library and took out a volume of diaries of the Rev William Bagshaw Stevens, who kept a journal from 1792 until his death in 1800 at the age of 45. I do hope one day that someone somewhere will have the good sense to set my journal down in print. I'm not writing crouched uncomfortably on my bedroom floor for the good of my health, you know. Mind you, I hold, and never shall hold, a government post, or be headmaster of Repton, but surely someone will derive pleasure from my illiterate, abusive ramblings? Tonight I sat reading the clergyman's journal which is crammed with Latin and Greek quotes, and little else. Some entries are so brief, they're worthless. I feel quite proud of myself turning out page after page of action-packed riveting script. Goodnight. Magno cum conatu magnas nugas dicit. Caw! Caw! Caw!.
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King Henry VIII married Jane Seymour upon this day in 1536. Was she his favourite Queen? I think so. I rang my favourite future queen at the Bradford AHA and engaged in a complex and confused conversation centred upon the trivialities of this world that I've generally allowed to pass me by. Tomorrow is her birthday. Bless her, she'll be 22. We are spending the afternoon in Leeds and going on to Lynn and Dave's for dinner. What time was she born? Her mother cannot remember and so this vital item of information is lost forever. Astrologically, it's a terrible omission.
At lunchtime I went into the Central library and took out a volume of diaries of the Rev William Bagshaw Stevens, who kept a journal from 1792 until his death in 1800 at the age of 45. I do hope one day that someone somewhere will have the good sense to set my journal down in print. I'm not writing crouched uncomfortably on my bedroom floor for the good of my health, you know. Mind you, I hold, and never shall hold, a government post, or be headmaster of Repton, but surely someone will derive pleasure from my illiterate, abusive ramblings? Tonight I sat reading the clergyman's journal which is crammed with Latin and Greek quotes, and little else. Some entries are so brief, they're worthless. I feel quite proud of myself turning out page after page of action-packed riveting script. Goodnight. Magno cum conatu magnas nugas dicit. Caw! Caw! Caw!.
-=-
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