Monday June 9, 1980

_. Much rain. Back to the office. Met Lynne Bateson in the lift, she confirmed what I was thinking: 'You look miserable'.

Sat hacking at the newspapers, thinking of Ally. ___________.

Sarah has been distraught with worry because her Shih Tzu has had an op for stones in her kidneys which has cost over £100. Insanity.

Home at 5, and out at 6:30 to West End Terrace for an evening with a damp paint brush. Joined by Ally. We had fish and chips at almost 11 back at Pine Tops, and went to bed at 12, still dotted in white paint.

The news: have you heard that the dweadful Woy Jenkins is form yet another abominable political party? Everyone [i.e. the Press] seem to be excited at the prospect, but I cannot help yawning.

Reading David Sinclair's 'Queen and Country' a biography of the Queen Mother, loaned to me by Derek Naylor.

Sunday June 8, 1980

_. 1st Sunday after Trinity

Felt better tolday, but slightly wobbly. At 12 we went to the Ship Inn at Bishop's Sutton. Joined by Graham, Gill, Andrew, Richard, good Eileen, Philip Middlebrough and his blond wife, Carol [nee Rodger] &c. Richard was twinkling with glee at my downfall. He too has experienced a drunken splash in the Itchen. It's one of Graham's party pieces evidently.  Ally had whitebait, but I had no appetite. In fact I was quite miserable, and Ally kept digging me in the ribs. Back to Chillandham Cross for coffee, and then the London people disappeared. We ate dinner on a massive new dining table. The wine affects Bessie with remarkable speed. She giggles and chatters more readily.

We messed around foolishly until about 9 o'clock. We should have left earlier but a final drink at the Plough set us back somewhat. Ally played under her car bonnet with a can of oil.  Home to Guiseley at almost 2am. We squabbled about whether we should go to Lidget Green or Guiseley, and I won.

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Saturday June 7, 1980

_. Still wet from the river, we climbed into Neil's car and went off to Southampton, supposedly for a fried breakfast. I proceeded to vomit in various places in the town, and the lads went into a transport cafe. I slept on the way back to Martyr Worthy and went to bed. Vomit here too. Ally kept bringing me refreshments. Bessie took it very well, and laughed at the way I kept apologising for my disgraceful behaviour. She was a nurse in the way years, of course.

We were supposed to be going up to London. Graham, Gill and Neil went to Trader Vic's bar at the London Hilton, then on to Richard and Eileen's party. [Graham spent £8.80 on three drinks]. Ally didn't leave me, and stayed at home in front of the TV. Bessie brought me hot soup at 7:30 and I was sleeping by 9. So angry at missing a party. I am relieved that Frank wasn't here to experience my alcoholic frolic.

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Friday June 6, 1980

_.To Windsor this morning. Dear Windsor has such memories for me of Uncle John and Sheila, brother John, Denise and the Bier Keller, &c. Swamped in nostalgia.  We inspected the castle and St George's Chapel. The state apartments were closed owing to the imminent arrival of Her Majesty for Royal Ascot week. An amusing incident in St George's Chapel. A group of Americans gathered around the effigies on the tomb of King George V and Queen Mary were wondering why the 20th century monarch was lying so close in proximity to Mary, Queen of Scots! I could not contain myself. I could not stand by and allow the debate to continue and so I explained to the party that THIS Queen Mary was the wife of King George V, and that they were the grandparents of the Queen. 'Oh, I thought they were just shacking up together', exclaimed a southern belle.

We saw a plaque on Lord Mountbatten's Garter stall, dedicated last December. His banner was, of course, removed on the day of his assassination.

To the Star and Garter for lunch. Ate a T-bone steak. We sat beaming at each other. A lovely day. The whole week has been a great success.

To Chandler's Ford to see Frank at 7:30, and then to the Otter, and the Plough, which was deserted. Joined by Graham and Gill, drinking Carlsberg Special. Neil, the barman, is a one man riot. We all became exceedingly intoxicated. Back to Chillandham Cross to smoke, drink vodka, and play pontoon. Ally disappeared to bed leaving Graham, Gill, Andrew, Neil and I gambling at 2p per stake. At some late hour, close to dawn, Graham suggested we go for a dip in the river Itchen and without further ado we stripped and walked across a couple of fields to an easily accessible spot on the river bank. A mist hung over the river like a shroud. I was first in, almost swimming over a weir. After a lengthy splash around I crawled onto a bank, shaking with cold, and cramp. The Carlsberg Specials had frozen solid in my stomach. We made our way back to Chillandham Cross.

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Thursday June 5, 1980

_. Hoy again. Ally and I went to Brighton in the afternoon. My first visit to this peculiar resort. We inspected the Royal Pavilion - a remarkable building. We sat on the pebbles eating cheese burgers and chips, ice cream, and cockles and mussels. Nude bathers are allowed on the beach but we saw nothing naughty. It must be quite a painful experience rolling around stark bollock naked in the shingle beneath the pier.

Home at 7 with the intention of visiting Frank, but Bessie says he's far too miserable and has requested that we stay away. I took a leisurely bath.

Out to a few pubs in Winchester and then on to the Berni Inn where Ally and John Pinder's ill-fated loved flourished. As we were leaving the restaurant we bumped into Stan the milkman and his nauseating wife. They were friends when she was with John. We were carried off to a tiny house for coffee. It was obvious that we were taken back to be questioned for information to pass on to Pinder, with whom they are still friends. Pinder is living with Mrs S, and Mr S has taken off with the tart from the newsagent's shop. All very sordid. Home after one.

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Wednesday June 4, 1980

_. Extremely hot. Frank Dixon's operation was a success but only one [kidney] stone was removed. It's Bessie Dixon's 58th birthday. We sat in the garden drinking lager. Ally stormed around like an enraged puma, into the house to avoid the heat, and then out again. I sat in a deckchair beneath a tree observing the dramatic scene with amusement. Bessie told me, in strictest confidence that 'Alison is so like Frank's mother'. She said it with a face full of fear.

Swilling lager reading a women's magazine and an article on the 'idyllic' marriage of the hideous Dai Llewellyn and Vanessa Hubbard.

After a ham salad we went to Winchester. Ally spent her birthday money on oddments for Ash Tree Cottage [alias, 5, Club St]. The shops were the last place I wanted to be. We are so much happier when we have money.

Tonight we went to meet Graham and Gill at the Otter at Otterbourne. Back at 10:30 to the Plough at Itchen Abbas. Midge told Ally that her perm makes her face look 'softer'. I could tell from the moment we walked in that she was thinking of something suitably bitchy to say.

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Tuesday June 3, 1980

_. Hot day. Ally collected me at 5 in a heavily laden car and we headed down the M1 to Northamptonshire. By 7:30 we were in Towcester and in a pub called the Something Old Oak [Brave Old Oak?]. The service was appalling. The bar staff consisted of one long haired paraplegic with a club foot, and he couldn't add up. Our scampi and chips were late and disappointing.

We arrived at Martyr Worthy at about midnight. Frank Dixon is hospitalised some miles away at Chandler's Ford, awaiting for an op for the removal of a kidney stone. We sat with chocolate cake and coffee. I was put in a bedroom with Andrew and we lay awake talking about his activities. Ally, in the next room, could hear us and expressed amazement at the way I can converse with her 'impossible' brother.

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