Monday September 29, 1980

_. Sunny, but autumnal. With Ally to Rawdon, no Horsforth, where I got the bus to Leeds. She disappeared to Bradford in Charles Citroen.

At the YP for 8:10. Busy day. Read the Sunday papers, full of the Labour split. Callaghan may resign. I break into a cold sweat at the thought of Wedgwood Benn, I really do. John and Maria are now fanatical supporters of the Left, and were expounding their revolutionary beliefs on Saturday, in a Scottish tavern. I blame the Macdonald brain-washing, because John was never politically motivated.

Wyatt: Diana's ancestor.

Study Lady Diana Spencer's line in greater detail. She is descended from Sir Thomas Wyatt, who led the rebellion against Henry VIII in 1533, and from the 2nd Duke of Norfolk, grandfather of the unfortunate Queens Anne Boleyn and Catherine Howard. Also up the tree are the Egerton Dukes of Bridgwater, the Villiers Earls of Jersey, the Forbes Earls of Granard, &c. One could go on indefinitely.

Phoned Ally tonight because I was too busy to do so in the day. Tony [from the Plough, Itchen Abbas] and Neil, came up to see her at 8 on Saturday morning, to find her absent. All that way for nothing.

Sue and Pete made a hurried visit solely to deliver laundry. I am now resigned to the fact that I left, abandoned, with Mama and Papa. They have accepted my 'dirty weekend' without comment, and the 'when are you going to get married?' jokes have ceased.

To bed at 12 after Barry Norman's 'Film 80'.

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Sunday September 28, 1980

_. 17th Sunday after Trinity

A cold fried breakfast again. The proprietress of the Marine guest house, whose private room abutts our room, held an orgy in her suite last night for what sounded like the Provisional IRA [Stranraer] branch. We had difficulty sleeping with the noise, and loud Irish expletives.

At Corner House Cottage.

To Corner House Cottage. Ally and I went on a walk gathering blackberries, 3lb in all. At 12:30 Mum, Dad, Lynn, Dave, Sue, Pete, Ally, JPH and I went to the Stoneykirk Hotel, a charming hotel set in its own grounds. Lunch. Scampi [again], and drank in the garden. JPH was so well behaved and charming. He found a playmate whom he referred to as 'the wee girlie'.

The question was asked. Why have we be staying at the sordid Marine Guest House when we could have stayed at the Stoneykirk?

The cottage renovations.

Later Ally and I picked more blackberries and then we left at 4. It's always a sad sight seeing John standing in the bracken waving ferociously until we disappear from view.

A tortuous journey home. Ally felt ill. She can only travel comfortably when she is the one doing the driving. We stopped at Whoop Hall, for drinks. Home at 10:30.

Saw Alan Ayckbourn's 'Bedroom Farce'. The man is a genius.

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Saturday September 27, 1980

_. Maria's arrangements with the slovenly proprietress of the Marine guest house, Stranraer, saw Ally and I sharing a room last night. We have not previously paraded this aspect of our relationship before Mum and Dad before, and I felt uneasy. They ignored our cohabiting and didn't even venture near to room 9, the scene of the crime. The 'guest house' leaves a lot to be desired. The fellow inmates at breakfast, in the main suspicious Irish characters chewing on their fatty bacon and making noises over their greasy pots of tea. It was not the happiest sight to start the day.

Out to the shops at 9:30. Bought John a Barry Manilow album. He likes that sort of thing. Meanwhile at the cottage he and a slave named Bertie were busily building a brick wall around the property. No doubt to ward off gangs of local brigands. Dad was roped in and Mum was busy cuddling babies and making the caravan quiver. We escaped to Port Patrick and the Crown Inn. Had scampi again. Joked about Ally's drink problem. She drinks gin like water, and with little effect. More food at the caravan and then we ventured into Stranaer. On to the Coachman's, for loud, pulsating music. Back to Lochans at 12. All jolly.

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Friday September 26, 1980

_. Up at 9. Our departure for Scotland was delayed for an hour or so. Sue, Pete, Lynn & Dave arrived and we packed the cars. Those who like meddling under cars did so. Off to Scotland at 11.

We had a lunch break at Whoop Hall, near Kirkby Lonsdale, left there at 2, and arrived at Lochans at 6. We ate, drank and made merry in the caravan until after 9 and then we went to the local pub in Lochans [name forgotten] leaving Mum and Dad with the children.

JPH seems almost school-worthy, but Catherine hasn't changed since we saw her in the Spring, and she shuffles around on her diminutive rear.

The cottage is marvellous, and almost ready for habitation. I do not know how they can stand it in the confined, claustrophobic space of the caravan.

Lynn announced her pregnancy.

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Thursday September 25, 1980

_. John is 24. He phoned and sounded genuinely grieved at the loss of the Spitfire. It was his originally, and it holds memories for him dating back to the last summer of his freedom in the steaming swelter of '75.

I dashed from the YP and into the sunshine this evening feeling elated. The place is oppressive and constricting and I haven't had a decent break since the Ibiza fortnight. Pay day too. So looking forward to seeing John, Maria and the dear children.

Lynn: the smoking has ceased.

Ally came at 8, weighed down with luggage in readiness for the Scottish fling. Hilda and Tony were supposed to come too but backed out at the last minute. Tony cited the plumbing at Mabel's flat as an excuse. Joined by Jim, Margaret, Lynn and Dave. Lynn now drinks only very moderately. The smoking also ceased before her pregnancy because she's seen reports that children are born under developed when born to mothers who smoke regularly in pregnancy. Wise of her.

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Wednesday September 24, 1980

_. Hungover, but soon recover thanks to Shazzo's Paracetamol tablets. Drank dark, murky coffee from the machine and attempt to recall last night's movements. Spoke to Ally, also feeling diabolical.
[She brought me as far as Rawdon in Charles at 8. I couldn't face Jennie in my frail condition].

Robert III.

Spent the day researching Lady Diana's family tree. I have found one common ancestor for both Lady Diana and the Prince of Wales. You already know that she descends from Charles II illegitimately via Lennox, Duke of Richmond. Now I find she has a legitimate line from Robert III, King of Scots. The Prince of Wales has several lines of descent from Robert, and the Queen Mother descends from Sir John Lyon, who married Robert III's sister. The majority of our old aristocratic families can find a Royal Stuart in their annals.

Watched 'Coronation Street'. Quite compulsive viewing. Ovaltine. Bed.

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Tuesday September 23, 1980

Charles, the Citroen.

_. To Ally's from the YP. Historic day. Henry, the beloved Triumph Spitfire, has gone to the knackers yard and has been replaced by Charles [pronounced the French way], the Citroen Dyan. A petrol-blue P registered motor. I do hope Ally has more luck with Charles. Henry came to her in the autumn of his existence and was a constant source of pain and distress to his doting mistress.

I have found a suitably Scottish flavoured vintage portrait to make a birthday card for my brother. It's Sir Fitzroy Maclean, Bt [1835-1936], upright, clad in his splendid tartan and covered in orders of chivalry. The old boy was the last survivor of the Charge of the Light Brigade, in the Crimean War.

To the Belfry at 9:30 to collect Ally's money, and on to Guiseley with fish and chips. I was horribly intoxicated, serenading Ally with a selection of Stevie Wonder's greatest hits.

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