Monday October 13, 1980

Beloved Führer ?

_. Monday. Ally came to see me and we sat huddled on the settee watching the telly. What else? It helps when a diarist has total powers of recall, but alas my powers have dried tonight. Ally left at 10:30, and I departed immediately to my chamber where I scowled angrily at my alarm clock which is refusing to work properly. It rings at a time of its own choosing and has developed an irregular tick.

Mrs Thatcher, our beloved Führer, is 55 today. However, it now seems that everyone regrets voting her into power. It's hard to find anyone who backs her. Even Cabinet ministers are red faced and cowering. A sign of the times. And, what is happening to the Labour party? Will Sir Alfred Broughton [Batley & Morley] succeed 'Sunny Jim' ?

Did you know that Michael Bentine once almost had a leg amputated because of a thrombosis? Dreadful, eh?

Sunday October 12, 1980

_. 19th Sunday after Trinity

Home to Bradford from the Browns at three, four or five. I discarded everything female and returned to the sanity of manhood. Slept. Ally went to the Belfry at 11:30. I walked home in the sun to Guiseley. I didn't walk all the way, but most of it.

A family gathering. Sue, Pete, Lynn and Dave came for tea and buns. We giggled at a Peter Sellers film from 1963 where he played a Scouse clergyman. Ally dropped in mid-afternoon, but left just as I was getting used to her. I felt buggered and slept in a chair to the backcloth of 'Songs of Praise' on the BBC, which in my twilight existence made me think I was ascending into Heaven, but serenaded by out of tune choristers from a provincial town. Eventually I went up to bed.

Mama and Papa are going to see Ruby and Arthur in Norfolk on Wednesday. The Gadsbys are in Norfolk now, and so it might be quite wild.

-=-

Saturday October 11, 1980

Brown, Nicola Gould, Dame Edna.

_. Up at 12. Had a message via Mama from Lynn that she will be coming with Dave's Cub Scout cap for Ally this afternoon. I hung around and waited until 3. I phoned Ally at 2:45 and she was still in bed. I went to Bradford at 4pm buying a pair of young, firm turnips en route. These, as you can imagine, are to form my cleavage. Ally makes a splendid cub. Horribly sexy.

Carol, Dame Edna, Cub Scout & Laurie Mercer.

To the Bod for a couple of hours at 6:30 and then back to Club St to dress for Brown's party. When dressed I do look more like Dame Edna than the Queen of Denmark, in my blond wig, Crimplene frock, and aquamarine clip-on earrings. Ally did my makeup and clad in pewter coloured tights I set out with a Cub Scout at the wheel to Brown's in Chapel Allerton, arriving at 11. I was, with all modesty, a roaring success. My appearance heralded a series of sexual assaults open my person, and I was the butt of many bawdy jokes. Ally was gorgeous. She does put up with such a lot. No sign of Sarah. Carol J came with Gavin [Summers], a new YP reporter. Drank gallons of red wine and ate nothing but sticks of celery. Home to Bradford from the Brown's at three, four or five.

-=-

Friday October 10, 1980

Christine Dibb.

_. Out with Dave L. Quite a session really. First to the New Inn where we encountered Carole Phillips and Naomi. Carole looked well and beautiful even though she is almost a mother. I was intrigued when she said to me: 'You look normal, for a change.' After intensive probing from me she elaborated. 'You are usually freaky these days.' Me, 'freaky' ? On to the White Cross in search of Sue and Pete, but no sign of either. Dave spotted Christine Dibb and made an immediate beeline for her. I finished my pint and Dave took the hint. On to the Shoulder. Fighting our way to the bar we met Philip Cartwright [see journal 1973-4]. Dave can tell a really good tale. He should write, or go on the stage. Home at 10:45. Dave came in for a drink. Watched a Clint Eastwood film until almost 1.

-=-

Thursday October 9, 1980

_. To Ally's from the YP. We trundled off in Charles to a pizza place on Manningham Lane, Mama Mia's, I think. Ally had lasagne and I had a seafood pizza. We were in and out in a flash. To the 'Mucky Duck' off Manningham Lane, but we sat uncomfortably. I can never sit and drink at the same time. I have to lean on a bar. On to the Bod, always excellent.

-=-

Wednesday October 8, 1980

_. More wet. Heard my alarm but snuggled beneath the quilt for ten minutes refusing to make a start to the day. A gloomy journey to Leeds with the Rawnsleys. I suppose insanity is an excellent qualification for running a metropolitan city council.

St John Stevas: like Disraeli?

Cheered to read in the papers that the government will strengthen the House of Lords against abolition moves by a future Labour government. Just how will they do this?

Norman St John Stevas is a Tory of the 'old school', almost like Disraeli. It would be nice if one day he could perhaps have a bash as prime minister. I don't suppose he's strong enough.

Had several choppy and valueless conversations with Ally. In the end we decided we will go and eat out tomorrow night, probably a pizza in Bradford.

Lynn and Dave came at 8 in a new Vauxhall Cavalier, which looks good. David however doesn't like it, and so a change can be expected. He bought an old Cub Scout uniform for Ally to wear on Saturday.

Took a bath and watched TV. Katie Boyle and King Hussein of Jordan, &c. Michael Parkinson was the limit and I adjourned to bed at 11:05pm.

The biography of the Prince of Wales is as I suspected - repetition. I could concoct a similar book in two weeks given the proper typewriter and enough paper. And I keep saying I don't know what to do with my life. Come on, Michael!

-=-

Tuesday October 7, 1980

Queen of Denmark: more my size.

_. Constant rain. Wind. Like winter. What ever happened to the Indian Summer?

At the YP: discussing my outfit for the fancy dress party Sarah suggests I wear a bra. Isn't that going a bit far? Michael Brown thinks I should attend as a crowned Head of Europe, and not as Dame Edna. I did give this some thought. Perhaps Queen Beatrix of Holland, or the ex-Queen of Italy? Mind you, the Danish monarch is perhaps more my size.

Scratched around at lunchtime, quite penniless and destitute. Carol J and I hid when a bespectacled Marxist wench from 'downstairs' came collecting money for our trade union. After the Labour conference I do not want to give them a single penny. I am, however, a coward.

Derek Naylor has given me a biography of the Prince of Wales which doesn't seem up to much. I probably won't even look at it, but it is good of him.

Spoke to Ally at 3. Derek Jenkins is driving her mad. His brooding, Welsh persona is suffocating all at Daisy Bank. We are not seeing each other until Thursday.

It's all so boring, isn't it, dear reader? And it is hardly likely to improve with the passage of years. You have had my best years already, and all I can provide now are the pathetic thoughts of an ageing nonentity. On the up side I have a fine head of hair, no grey as yet, and I am writing without spectacles. I do not look too broken yet.

Mum and Dad went to see Lynn and Dave. They returned at 10:30 saying Dave has spent a riotous day terminating his employment with Thompson & Spencer. He starts his new job tomorrow.

-=-

Home at 6. Got another soaking. Mum and Dad seem quiet, and the sitting room has taken on a grim atmosphere. Perhaps nothing is amiss, but I am super sensitive in this area.