Monday June 23, 1980

_. Catherine's first birthday. My parents carry on like Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton. Violent emotion.

Got a bus home at 6pm. I soon after retired to my room with 'George the First' by Ragnhild Hatton. Susan has spoken to Auntie Mabel and they are going over to see her tomorrow to collect a bed [a wedding present]. I went out to help Dad with the lawns, but found him at the bottom of the garden puffing on a secret cigar like a devious schoolboy.

To be at 11 with 'George the First', a good book.

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Sunday June 22, 1980

_. 3rd Sunday after Trinity

Woke at 9. We giggled in bed. Ally went off to Bradford, and I rolled over and went to sleep until 11:30. Eggs, bacon and beans with Chippy and Debbie at 12. Afterwards we left Debbie studying German for her 'A' Level exam tomorrow, and joined Ken & Olive sitting outside the White Cross. I could only manage the one drink because my head throbbed hideously. We then went on to see Dave W and crept down his garden path and peered through his window and watched him, for some considerable time, struggling with a Sunday newspaper. He thinks he may be dying.

Home at 2 to see Mum and Dad, who returned from Northumberland last night. They are very quiet. I  went up to bed, but Mum followed me. I asked how the holiday had been. 'Your father hated the soddin' place', was her response. I took to my bed until 5.

Ally arrived and we went out to buy  papa some rum [for medicinal purposes] and then the two of us went to the Fox & Hounds. Saw George Waite. On to the Woolpack and then the Station on Henshaws Lane, before returning to Pine Tops at 10pm.

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Saturday June 21, 1980

_. Woke up at almost mid-day. Ally went off to a shift at the Belfry. I ironed some clothes, listening to Serge Rachmaninov's 2nd piano concerto. The ironing speeded up with the third movement. Do I perhaps have the blood of a long dead Chinese laundress flowing through my veins? Whilst ironing away to the melodious banging of Maura Lympany, midst the heat and steam, I found myself inspecting a pair of Pete's Levi jeans, and puzzle for some minutes at the shortness of his legs. Is my sister soon to become the spouse of a dwarf, or perhaps a gnome? I resolve, in my labours, to settle this disturbing matter later in the evening.

To the White Cross at 8 with Sue and Peter. Sadly, Dave L had the opportunity to join us but declined. He blames a new teaching job at South Elmsall. From the Cross we went to the Square & Compass, for their splendid 'mind blowing' lager. I went with Dave W. I did enjoy the atmosphere in this pub.

Back to Chippy's in Menston at 11:30. Joined by the lovely Ally, wearing something called a 'boob tube'. Joined by Lynn, Dave, Ken and Olive. A vast lake of rosé wine was consumed. I do recall hauling Pete to the floor [with help] to take his inside leg measurement. How we howled with laughter. A fracas broke out between Dave W and Ken. The former referred to the latter as 'a ginger haired bastard'.

Ally and I escaped to Chippy's bed, but not before we had a skirmish with a violent bedside lamp.

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Friday June 20, 1980

_. This morning Ally felt like death. I was generally boisterous. Neither did I suffer throughout the day, and praised the Almighty for my safe keeping.

Out at 12 with Sarah to Len's Bar. Huddled together in the gloom on a Chesterfield sofa. I arrived home at 6 raring to go, but Sue & Pete plead poverty, and so we decided to stay in. Something is wrong with the telly. Everything and everyone looks a vile shade of green. Kenneth Kendall, reading the news, looked like a Martian. I lay on the sofa, and slipped into a coma, with an Agatha Christie novel covering my Adonis features.

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Thursday June 19, 1980

_. Mama and Papa were joined together in Holy matrimony upon this day 26 years ago, and are now celebrating in the peace and damp of Northumberland.

Pete came up at 8 and took Sue and Janet Simon off to the Drop before disappearing with Chippy for the Thursday 'ale fest'. Ally and I went to the New Inn, and Sue and Janet joined us, walking down from the Drop. They arrived with cans of beer purchased to consume en route, even though the New Inn is only about 200 yards from the Hanson pile. Later, Pete and Chippy fell in the doors, making the band of boozers complete. Ally was persuaded to drink gin and dry Martini mixed. Chris Blades, his eyes bulging, and Geoff Hanson, were drawn to Susan's side, like flies around a jam pot. Sue was wearing particularly tight jeans and revealing t-shirt. The scene was reminiscent of debauched, Restoration England. All that was missing was the oranges and full-bottom wigs.

Back at home we managed to spill two cups of black coffee into the bed. The cocktails took hold of Ally, and she had a restless night. We lay watching the clouds dash by above.

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Wednesday June 18, 1980

_. Ally came here at 5:30 clad in her work togs in readiness for another onslaught on the decor at West End Terrace. It was pointless really because I could see little to do tonight, but we put in an appearance all the same.  If Ally isn't working flat out like an Egyptian slave on the pyramids, she's miserable. David B arrived [Lynn-less] and plastered something in the kitchen. I stood around like a pork pie at a Jewish wedding. We made our farewells at about 9.

We went back to watch TV. A Shaun Cassidy film about a retarded couple and their endeavour to be married.

Poppet stayed the night. Chippy phoned late on to confirm his party is definitely on for Saturday. Unfortunately, Ally is working, but says she'll come to Gerald's later on. Debbie's influence has transformed Chippy in recent months. He's quite normal these days.

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Tuesday June 17, 1980

_. Mixed weather. Wet, but dry.

En route to Leeds Jennie kept hinting that tomorrow is her birthday, and so I am compelled to purchase a birthday card.

Kathleen continues to be nauseating. She flapped around waving the wads of paper [Honours List], and was generally hideous for the whole day.

Sarah left at lunchtime 'to get pissed' [her phrase] at Len's Bar with a man called Trevor. Returning from lunch I found them holding hands on Wellington Street. She requires a husband, and quickly. She has to marry, or at least leave home, within the next two years, because her father, a big noise in the Post Office, is due to retire and return to living at Ivory Towers. His presence will be intolerable. Delia says that she might have to find night work, of a dubious nature, just to escape his clutches.

Home at 6. Susan has 'blobbed' [to quote Peter] and had not been to work, and had concocted a delightful dinner for Peter and I. By coincidence Lynn phoned at 6 and said that she too had taken the day off, for some minor ailment.

Ally had a shift at the Belfry. Mum and Dad phoned from Rothbury. I joined Sue, Pete, Jim N, Lynn and Dave at West End Terrace, where I continued painting. Enjoying the feel of the brush and the whiff of emulsion paint I battled on until 11:15.

At home Sue and Pete were in bed within minutes. I watched the highlights of the first day of Royal Ascot on the BBC. Queen Mother fever is really taking hold now. She was cheered and applauded marvellously. No other Queen in our history has been more loved by the people. HM's 80th birthday celebrations next month really should be commemorated by a Bank Holiday.

Grand Duke Jean of Luxembourg is visiting the Queen at Windsor. Once again stories of an engagement between his daughter, Marie-Astrid, and the Prince of Wales, make the gutter press. No chance. Absolutely no chance whatsoever. I will put my shirt on it.

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