Monday February 9, 1981

 _. General oddments: Heavy rain. Shirley Williams has quit the National Executive Committee of the Labour party. 

Royal News: Queen Frederika of Greece died in Spain on Friday, aged 63. [Nigel] Dempster says Lady Di is to spend part of March-April in Australia to coincide with the Prince of Wales's visit to that great colony - governor-general speculation, and all that. The Duke of Edinburgh is to attend the Valentine's Day wedding of Prince Henri of Luxembourg. Princess Michael of Kent's first husband [Tom Troubridge] has married a Mrs Petronella Forgan in the USA, &c.

I have already said it was somewhat inclement today. I took my new umbrella to the office and made full use of it at lunchtime by going out for a trudge in the downpour for a tongue sandwich from Malcolm's bakery. Sarah is very worried. Gordon Linacre has let it be known that he is far from happy about Kathleen's leave of absence, saying it isn't 'company policy' to allow people to abandon their responsibilities. It could result in Kathleen's resignation and a new chief been brought in from outside. What an obnoxious thought, eh? Sarah is understandably most peeved. 

Precious Ally came at 7:30 and we watched John Cleese in 'Fawlty Towers' [again] and then sat for a couple of hours inventing a list for wedding presents. You know the sort of thing: bath towels [green], plastic bucket [brown], bamboo toilet roll holder, &c. Throughout this endless compilation Burt Lancaster was shooting people on TV. I kept telly Ally that the blood was only ketchup, but she didn't seen convinced. She left at 11:15. Bed at 12:15.

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Sunday February 8, 1981

 _. Awakened at 10:30 by violent noises coming from the bathroom. Garry vomiting as if he might cough up his heart, liver and spleen. Dreadful. Breakfast on bacon, eggs, tinned spaghetti, &c. All except Garry of course who just sat silently, looking very green. Ally is recovered - just a few bruises where she walked into awkwardly placed chairs, tables, doors and walls. To the Forester's at 12:30 and then the Black Horse until 2:30. No enthusiastic drinking. I think we all had quite enough last night. We walked to the Linton falls and looked at the water and the ducks [in the drizzle], chiefly to ease our consciences because we hadn't walked further than the high street since our arrival. We packed up and left at 7 to go to Cracoe for food. Rain and sleet on the way home. Dave and Garry headed back to Stockport and Ally and I joined Mum for the evening. To bed at 12:30.

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Saturday February 7, 1981

 _. Up at 10:30. I didn't know where the Hell I was when my pink eyes opened to the cave-like, clammy bedroom. All to the kitchen for a colossal fried breakfast of Edwardian proportions. You know, the usual scrambled eggs, sausages, bacon, baked beans, &c. By 12 though we were safely amassed in the Forester's Arms [a Tetley house] where we passed the duration of the afternoon. Nauseating video games are on the increase. The whole pub vibrated and shook to the sound of 'space invaders', and all the intergalactic life and death struggles that go with it, fruit machines, the juke box, &c. It isn't surprising that the pub cat is insane. It staggered about the bar, with bulging red eyes, sinking it's needle-like teeth into all and sundry. Joined at 7 by Lynn, Dave B, Chris and Julie, and at 8 by Dave L. All at the Devonshire singing along to a drunk playing an accordion very badly. Dave L was very pleased about the engagement. He left us at 11:15 spattered in port and lemon. Lynn and Co joined us at the cottage for a few drinks but it wasn't successful. We were all too drunk, and to poor Lynn [drinking tomato juice] it must have looked like a scene from a bawdy nineteenth centurty music hall, and not a very good one at that. Susan's flowery language is quite amazing - she always puts on such a good floor show at these weekend gatherings with the Stockport lads. Chris and Julie are such demure characters, though I do get the impression that Julie could be quite a scream if she tried. Ally was pissed. The girls had been drinking pints. 

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Friday February 6, 1981

 _. Phoned Ally from 7:30, and still no reply. I finally tracked her down at the AHA. She says  her phone must be on the blink because she sat waiting for a call all last night and early this morning and decided I must have 'fallen out with her'. No comment. 

To the YP from 9-12 and escaped into the crisp February noon full of elation. Freedom until Monday! Lunched with Mama and Papa and we were joined by Ally at 2. We have received an engagement card from my great-aunt Annie Kirk [Grandmother Rhodes's younger sister]. Great aunts are few on the ground. We went to Bryan Waite's [the photographer] but his Mrs told us that June 27 is out of the question. Then on to Burley to show Lynn the engagement ring. Ally was most peculiar about it, almost embarrassed. Finally to Grassington for 3pm. We went shopping to Skipton for coal and breakfast provisions, then back to the damp, yet lovable cottage. Joined by Sue and Pete at 6:30 and by 7 we were in the Black Horse. We became quite intoxicated. Susie is such a comedienne. To the Devonshire at 10, Joined by Dave G and Garry. They were not remotely stunned by the engagement announcement. Spent £9 on booze and returned to the cottage for a Baccanalian orgy. The usual Hill Top scene marred only by the lack of music. Garry forgot the cassette player. Bed at some dawn hour.

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Thursday February 5, 1981

 _. A very ordinary day. No Americans have been taken hostage. Ronald Reagan didn't die in office [yet], and the Prince of Wales remains unengaged. Sarah, a fashion guru, says that Lady Diana needs a new shirt. She'd have thousands of new shirts if only she'd say 'yes'. 

John Lennon is dead and it's very sad and all that but I think it's going too far putting his every record in the charts. I am now sick of Lennon and the media ought to be ashamed of the fact that they've destroyed my love of his music by constantly playing it for weeks on end. The man is being rammed down our throats.

Dave G phoned. He and Garry are motoring here tomorrow. Susie phoned too and said she and Peter are setting out at 6:30. 

Dad is no better and looks ghastly. His eyes are sunken and he's a shade of deathly white. Off his food too, and for Dad that is unheard of. 

Ally came at 8. We went to the Fox & Hounds, the Drop and the New Inn where we met up with Susie, Audrey, Janet Simon and Biffy. You know my views re this Thursday night quartet. Ally set off for home at 11:15 and I promised to phone her at 11:30 to check she was safely home but when I did I got no reply. I sat dialling until after 12. I retired to bed with Peter Sellers convinced that Ally must be dead in St Luke's Hospital, or at least mortally wounded. Sat reading Peter Sellers but didn't sleep.

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Wednesday February 4, 1981

  _. A glum day at the office. Since Kathleen's demise Carol J has taken it upon herself to rule the library in the fashion of Catherine the Great, or that peroxide wonder, Eva Peron. I despise dictators, especially female ones, and ignore her. It's best that way. Sarah finds it highly amusing.

Phoned Ally. She has had a tooth crowned and moaned about it. She also had a moan about Dave G's indecision about when he and Garry will be joining us at Grassington. I phoned him and told him to pull hus socks up. We joked about the Robin Hood [pub]. They [the lads] spend every available hour swilling ale in that hostelry now. He promised to ring me tomorrow. I didn't tell him about our engagement. I then phoned Garry.

Dad looks grotty [diarrhoea]. He made a brief appearance this evening and then crawled back into bed. I watched an episode of 'Sons and Lovers'. 

To bed at about 11 quite knackered. Whatever happened to the youth of yesteryear? Sat in bed with the biography of Peter Sellers. A sad man.

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Tuesday February 3, 1981

 _. I put the announcement of our enagement in the Evening Post.  Quite splendid.

Politics: Have I commented recently about the Council for Social Democracy that has been formed by Roy Jenkins and Co? It certainly looks as though the Labour party is done for once and for all. They are all deserting to join Mr Jenkins and Shirley Williams, &c, including such world figures as Lord Flowers, Janet Suzman, Frank Muir, Denis Nordern and Shirley Temple Black. All we need now is for Morecambe & Wise to switch loyalties and we'll have the basis of a new political party.  However, it isn't all beer and skittles for Margaret Thatcher. This crew might be damaging to Labour but what damage could they cause the Conservative party? How many 'wets' will join Uncle Woy, one asks? Harold Wilson was on the telly. I don't think he's long for this world. He's wasting away.

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