Monday December 15, 1980

_. Jim R took me to Leeds with the ever increasingly silent Jennie. He gave me a paperback copy of the Diary of James Woodforde, covering a forty year period 1758-1802. Fascinating. In 2155 will this, my journal, be in print perhaps?

A day of breathless excitement. The Guardian carried a front page piece claiming that the Prince of Wales, fresh back from the Himalayas, is about to announce his engagement to Lady Diana Spencer. Derek Foster, the YP News editor, latches onto this, and prepares the way for the YP to follow on. Derek Foster,  a quiet and careful man doesn't do something on a groundless or flimsy base. The Guardian article actually said that the Queen wants to announce the forthcoming nuptials in her Christmas broadcast, but has been advised against this course because no newspapers are published until Dec 27. No. A Christmas announcement doesn't ring true. Big announcements are never made over Yuletide. All afternoon we await a royal announcement, but at 6 I left the office disappointed. 

Spoke to Ally several times. I might be going to Winchester for the New Year. I don't think Mother will like this.

Watched 'Not the Nine O'clock News', which was poor. Bed with Parson Woodforde and Thomas Hardy at 11:45pm.

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Sunday December 14, 1980

_. 3rd Sunday in Advent

Uncle Tony is 45. Slept in the upper sitting room with Dave. Ally woke us at 12:15. Panic. We should have met the lads in the Nelson pub at noon. Frantic dressing. Drove into Stockport and met Billy Garry, Steve and John [the latter is due to become a father on Dec 31]. From the Nelson to the Robin Hood at 1pm. Unfortunately on this occasion the nature of our politics was not asked for and neither were we invited to remain after hours for a 'bona fide' session.

At 3 we had lunch at the Hollywood [the usual leg of lamb] and left at 4:30 returning to Bradford via Ally's old home at Grasscroft, near Dobcross. Home for 7 in time to observe 2 minutes silence for John Lennon. Even the Archbishop of Canterbury stood for a 'lone vigil' taking it a bit too far. 

One drink at the Drop, fish and chips from Westfield Fisheries, home at 9 to decorate the Christmas tree with Mum and Dad. They were drinking rum and orange celebrating the anniversary of their engagement [December 12, 1953]. Ally and I watched a film until 1, giggling like third formers. The room so fresh smelling of pine. Good old Prince Albert.

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Saturday December 13, 1980

_. Mum and Dad still feeling poorly today. At 11 Ally and I set out to Pudsey to pay a call on the other party-goers so brutally struck down. At Waterloo only Tim and Steve were in, and both were sick yesterday. The word diarrhoea was mentioned. After depositing our Christmas cards we left the house of misery and sought out Auntie Mabel at St Lawrence Close. She has shown no signs of food poisoning, and said that _____ made himself ill by the shear quantity he consumed. After a few minutes we left leaving her with Mark and Debbie.

On to Stockport at 1:30. A rogue rodent is causing havoc at the Hollywood Hotel and Dave has bought a kitten [and I name her Sybil]. Ally took an immediate liking to the creature which is odd because she generally loathes cats. Out at 7 to the Steak Kebabs restaurant in Didsbury. I ate an enormous T-bone [again], then we went on to to the Robin Hood until 1:15. The landlord had a 'lock in' after hours. At closing time he asked: 'Do you vote Labour?' When I responded: 'Of course we do' he allowed us to remain. Ally was on brilliant form showing Garry how to throw darts properly. Back to the Hollywood at 1:30. Ally played with Sybil, who clicked her dress. To bed with milky coffee.

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Friday December 12, 1980

_. A day of tranquil repose. Ally was up and off to work at 8 and I slept until she phoned me at 11:30. For a couple of hours I attempted to clean up some of the devastation but a pounding head made me give in at 1pm. Ally came home for lunch. I was slumped on the settee  getting an 'ear full' of Elgar's 'Enigma Variations'. She quickly had a salad and returned to her work at the AHA. I went back to bed until 4:30. I am so pleased I had the foresight to arrange a day off. No way could I have turned up at the YP.

We had a cosy tea together and out we went at 9 to the Belfry where she deposited her waitress uniform and collected £11 holiday pay. Chuffed to arseholes about this. On to a gay celebration in the New Inn. Our usual Friday evening burst of raucous pleasure. The regular inhabitants of Guiseley and Yeadon were making merry. Saw Dave Wainwright, Johnny, Ken, &c.

Ally has decided to throw a party on Boxing Day evening. That part of Christmas can become so boring. The turkey is gone, and the TV is spewing out old film after old film to a snoozing public. 

Home at 11:30. Mum and Dad have upset stomachs. What's worse is Hilda is suffering too. Ally immediately blames herself, and for a couple of hours I persuaded her not to.

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Thursday December 11, 1980

_. Out at lunchtime to Safeways to buy food for tonight's orgy of cousins and aunts. Spent £4 for nothing. Straight to Ally's at 5, and spent three hours decorating the sitting room for Christmas. The walls bedecked in balloons and a little tree flashed in a corner, sparkling with a hundred balls. In the midst of this grotto-building we broke off to buy booze at Morrisons. 

The first to arrive at 8 [as I climbed out of the bath] was Karen and Steve. They are not too upset about the murdered Pudsey landlady - a close friend. Next came Mum, Dad, Jim, Margaret, Lynn, Dave, Sue, Pete, Hilda, Tony, Mabel, Diane, Paul who completed the party. Sprog Cottage packed like the Black Hole of Calcutta. Drank gallons and ate heartily. 

An amiable party in every way. The flashing Christmas tree lights caused no offence, and the tapes of John Lennon's hits were well received. Margaret said, dryly, that she'd never liked John Lennon, but that shooting him was taking it a bit too far. Certain persons were expecting an engagement announcement from Ally and I but none came. After they'd all left at 1am Ally was floored by a falling tin from a kitchen cupboard. We retired at 3.

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Wednesday December 10, 1980

_. On to Leeds from Bradford at 8. A dull day. Every paper full of Lennon's end. Phoned Mum when the news came into the office that Mrs Clay, the wife of the landlord of the Royal pub in Pudsey, had been murdered at Dewsbury Railway station. The Royal is a Karen and Steve stronghold and they'll certainly know the unfortunate dame. Is she perhaps the 14th Ripper victim? 

Phoned Ally too. She came over at 7:30. Coronation Street is really gripping at the moment. Poor Emily has discovered that she's living with a bigamist ['Bigamy? Lady this is bigger than the both of us!]. 

Dave G phoned just to make sure Saturday is still on. Spent the night with Ally in the kitchen mixing pizza pie, and juggling with tarts and flans. By 11 I had had quite enough. Felt buggered. 

Frankie Howerd was on the telly tonight [whilst we were cooking in the kitchen] and we could hear Mum roaring with laughter. I think I can say Frankie is one of the few people who never fails to leave her in fits. Another one is Uncle Harry, but where is he?

Watched a programme on the life of Max Miller and retired to bed at 12:30 where I now sit listening to the rain on the window as I read John Lennon's obituary in the Times. 

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Tuesday December 9, 1980

_. Gloom abounds. Phoned Ally at 7:30 to get her out of her snug, pink bed and she shocked me by announcing that John Lennon, the Beatle, has been shot dead by a mad man in New York. Such a tragic end to a life of genius. For the remainder of the day I was in a state of shock. The Beatles are an important part of our lives and the loss of John Lennon brought memories of childhood flooding back. Those brilliant songs and tunes are engraved on all our hearts. It's obvious that his death has hit everyone. Someone in the office said we are making more of this than both Kennedy assassinations rolled into one, but I do think that Lennon deserves the obsequies befitting a King.

To Ally's at 6. She has bought me the new David Bowie LP as a thank you for my decorating services at Club Street. She spent the evening cleaning and I listened to Mike Read's Lennon tribute on Radio One until 10. Ate fish and chips afterwards and went about with a paint brush touching up here and there.

I have been reflective and subdued tonight. The loss of the occasional superstar moves me immensely.

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