Tuesday July 1, 1980

_. Dominion Day, Canada

Dismal, wet. Went to work in an overcoat, very over-dressed, but wanted to avoid the soaking. Spent the day with my nervous schoolboy assistant, who shook with fear behind the filing cabinets. He is however, an intelligent lad.

I phoned Lynn at about 11. She was packed and ready for her holiday. Mum and Dad took them to Yeadon and they flew to Gerona at 2:30. Lynn, was so nervous about flying, and this coupled with the recent atrocities committed by the down-trodden Basques, hasn't helped. Mum reports that the flight left on time, but hated saying goodbye. Mum cannot say goodbye, even for the shortest period, and blames the trauma of parting with Dad when he was called up for national service. Goodbye phobia, it must have a proper name.

I phoned Ally to remind her of my tea time date with Delia and she responded by calling me a 'creep', and asked me not to choke on what morsels of food are placed before me. At 4 Sarah and I met Delia in town and went to Ivory Towers for steak pie followed by strawberries with a lemon soufflé.

Sarah devoured handfuls of vitamin tablets before dining, and Delia gave me a handful, but after swallowing them down with a glass of water we decided that the little blue ones were in fact the Shih Tzu's kidney pills. We rolled around the kitchen in hysterics. What's more, Delia's been taking the pills on a daily basis for some days, and has been having nightmares, and breathless attacks. I fully expected to start barking. Sarah, I think did actually wet herself. Sure enough, the dog's vitamins and pills were there on the same shelf as Sarah's vitamins.

Delia went to St Chad's at Headingley and we accompanied her to the pounding in the car of the Hallé Orchestra's rendition of Ravel's 'Bolero'. Delia went into the church with heaps of flowers, and Sarah and I went to a local hostelry [The Three Horseshoes?] , which took us through until 10. Delia brought me home at 11.

To bed, perhaps not barking, but growling.

-=-

Monday June 30, 1980

_. Need I say it rained again? An efficient day. Joined by a temporary worker, a schoolboy called John, who relieved me of my menial tasks.

Home like a drowned ferret at 6. Went to West End Terrace with Dad, Sue and Pete. Grandma Nason's funeral is fixed for Wednesday. It will be Susan's first. I have resolved to donate my body to a local necrophiliac group on my demise. Kidney donor cards, and such like, hold little appeal for me. To carry one must surely tempt fate. Alison doesn't believe in fate.

I phoned Ally at 2 but Derek Jenkins was in the middle of dictating a letter to her and so I left in a hurry and didn't speak to her again.

-=-

Sunday June 29, 1980

_.4th Sunday after Trinity

Dull, rain. Sue and Pete came in at 12 with the sad news that Pete's grandmother, Florence Nason, died this morning from a heart attack. She was 82, and so looking forward to the wedding. Poor Jim is heartbroken, of course.

Maria and the children came this afternoon and created pandemonium. JPH has a temper. I blame the Celtic blood. Lynn, Dave and Ally came to dinner at 8. Roast beef, Yorkshire puddings, strawberries and cream, wine. Everybody looked shattered. Catherine is still very tiny, with glassy china-blue eyes.

Lynn and Dave left at about 11 with a pile of my shirts, for the Spanish holiday. I cannot help thinking that she isn't looking forward to it. She was very subdued about the whole thing. The Basques are bombing holiday resorts, and despite what I said the other day about plane crashes never coming in pairs, a DC10 has gone down, this time in the sea off Italy.

-=-

Saturday June 28, 1980

_. Torrential rain at times. I have decided to build a new ark, just as soon as I can lay hands on some good quality teak.

Slept until nearly 12. Chippy's 22nd birthday.

Chippy phoned. He and and Dave W want to visit the tailor to be fitted for suits for Sue and Pete's wedding. I agreed to accompany them. To the White Cross, then Charles the tailor, the New Inn, then the Crown at Yeadon. We ate bits of pizza, then went to Chippy's. Played music [loud], and then returned home, pissed.

Maria drove round from Ridgeway, with a nanny, and JPH. The little lad is now very 'leggy', and wearing the same green cardigan he always wears. No sign of my brother, who is alone in Scotland.

Ally came at 8 and out we went with Sue, Pete, Chippy, Debbie and Dave W to the Square & Compass [again] - a firm favourite now. We decided to drop our first names for the night and only use the second name, and be penalised for forgetting. Dave W was Graham, Chippy was David, I was Lawrie, Pete was James, Ally was Mary, Debbie was Anne, and Sue, having no middle name, chose Claire.

On at 11 to the Prachee for a hot curry and cold water. £4 each - not bad. On to Chippy's, I mean Dave's, where we listened to music. When we mentioned to Chippy, sorry Dave, that Ally, I mean Mary, sleeps all day he responded 'Oh, she's schizophrenic'. He should know, he is a mental nurse at the local asylum.

-=-

Friday June 27, 1980

_. Atrociously wet day. At least we were spared the tennis from Wimbledon. The sporting event was disrupted and our TV screens were free of tantrum throwing US schoolgirls with pigtails and mouths full of metal braces.

I first set eyes on Auntie Delia five years ago today, and so sent her a letter. At 7pm she phoned inviting me to tea on Tuesday. One of her friends recently likened her to the late Joyce Grenfell, and I can see why.

I'm now going to mention something that's been on my mind for a few days, even weeks. Namely the thorny subject of my membership of a trade union [NATSOPA]. I joined the union about two years ago, and at the time I didn't really want to become involved but, uncharacteristically, followed my colleagues like a paraplegic sheep. On June 20 the Daily Telegraph carried an alarming article stating that NATSOPA is about to sponsor the left-wing Labour MP, Ron Leighton, to the tune of £25,000 per annum. This move was stated as being part of an initiative to pep up the political clout of the printworkers union. Obviously, I sat seething at the prospect of donating 80p a week to the Labour party. Therefor, I vowed to cease contributing to NATSOPA funds and never again to follow others like a four-legged mutton carrying animal. I have yet to be confronted by the venomous FOC [Father of the Chapel, as newspaper print union chiefs are called]. She, the FOC, happens to be a woman who terrifies all who come into contact with her. I am, however, resolved in my course of action and will stand up against the bullying leftist militants, who try and walk over humble librarians.

Home at 6. Sat with 'George the First' by Ragnhild Hatton. Watched Peter Cushing in 'The Abominable Snowman'. Bed after one.

-=-

Thursday June 26, 1980

_. Even wetter. Mum and Dad seem to be restored to a normal relationship. Mum was bubbly, and Dad quite unchanged.

YP: Anna Wallace features in the gossip columns. The Prince of Wales is showing a marked interest in the girl. Is it wedding bells in 1980? Oh, shut up.

This evening, at 7:30 I went to Bradford where Ally met me from the bus on Manningham Lane. We went to a little pub called the Black Swan, and then to the Bod, on Manchester Road. I did a fair bit of drinking there some years ago. We had a good heart to heart._______.

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Wednesday June 25, 1980

_. I got a lift from Leeds at 5:30 with Dave B, and we collected Ally. We ate with Lynn and Dave at Burley. Fish in parsley sauce. Afterwards we bought port and cans of beer and went to Dave and Elaine's at Over Lane, Rawdon, where we sat listening to tales of embarrassing intimacy from Elaine. Coughing into our glasses at her complete lack of tact. She does have some endearing qualities. The Allinson's son, Stephen, told me that last week on his sixth birthday he'd been to the top of Snowdon. 'It's the highest mountain in the whole world, you know.'

Home after 2.

-=-