Full Moon
Nothing doing in the day. YP dull.
To Morrison's with Ally, Back in time for Top of the Pops and Kenny Everett. We placed the table near the window and had soup, grilled steak and chips, and cheese and biscuits. A romantic evening but we didn't linger like last Friday.
TV: Falklands. 'Badger By Owl Light', a thriller. Robin Day. Bed.
No work tomorrow, but we retired early all the same. Ally finds it difficult to stay awake after 8pm.
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Had a late birthday card today from Dave L with strong Falkland Islands theme. It was home made, of course. Bessie has been reprimanded by Ally for forgetting my 27th birthday, but a horrifed Bessie revealed that she posted a card, containing a crisp £10 note on April 1. She fears she may have put the wrong address on the envelope. Ally has contacted the PO, who have a little man who deals with such things.
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| Jonathan Margolis. |
I never did like Argentina. The 'Evita' revival brought on by Tim Rice and Lloyd Webber held no fascination for me. Mrs Peron was a peroxide, fascist bitch. Are we soon to be at war, do you think? Defeat will see the end of the divine Margaret [Thatcher]. Oh, on the subject of Mrs Thatcher have I already told you that her number one supporter, Mel, in Hampshire, husband of the randy Barbara, has died of pneumonia, brought on by hepititis? We last saw him at Graham and Gill's on New Years Day.
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| Carrington: resigned |
Phoned Mum today. Nothing spectacular. Frances is one today. Lynn has made her a party to be attended by other infants in the neighbourhood. Sue is taking Christopher and Christine Airey is taking Kevin. _____.
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My birthday. We sat in bed at 6:30 with presents and cards. Ally gave me the Jam's new LP 'The Gift', socks, a stout pack, and ink. We had poached eggs on toast listening to the Jam. YP. Ugh. I will have to make sure I have my birthday off next year. Utterly depressing. I have had a card from Delia but, strangely, nothing from my in-laws in Winchester. [We had an Easter card on Saturday with a fiver tucked inside].
I'm twenty seven now, but content. At twenty four and twenty five I was more disgruntled.
Got wet tonight coming home. Lashing rain. [Auntie] Mabel phoned to say she saw me at the bus stop in Leeds, waiting like a drowned rat. She had been visiting her ailing friend, Evelyn, at the LGI.
Candlelit food again. Mackerel and cheese. Out at 8 in my new togs to the Bod where we were joined by Karen and Steve, Tim and Jill. The music was too loud and nobody could hear any conversation, or in fact say anything. On to the Fire Brigade pub at Great Horton. Poor Steve wasn't feeling well [his tummy] and they left at 10. With Jill and Tim we had 'just a couple more' at Mucky Willie's. They came back for coffee. Went to bed counting SDP MPs in the Commons ... not thinking of babies.
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Fussed around the table and made buns and things before the family came at 2:30. Sue and Peter were the first to arrive with baby Christopher, making his first visit to Club St. Lynn, Dave and Frances followed bringing Mum and Dad too. Poor Dad hobbles around like Robert Newton in Treasure Island. A pleasant Sunday afternoon of chatter and nosh. It's not often we get together these days, and even then John is missing. We only ever see him on Christmas day. Mum brought with her a postcard from John in Majorca, written in his familiar and spidery hand. Dave B gets quieter. Bed at 10.
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Hungover. I was awake very early and felt like Humphrey Bogart in that John Huston film about gold proespecting. Thirsty. Downstairs and cleared away the revolting dishes from last night.
After breakfast we went to town. Ally bought me a striped t-shirt and blue canvas shoes. We inspected all the fashions.
Parliament meet today, Saturday, the first such sitting since Suez in 1956. Unfurl the banners and get out your khaki. Wave the flags for the boys, the soldiers of the Queen, &c. I love the occasional spurt of patriotism. Such things takes our minds off unemployment and Lord Scarman.
The Grand National. Mackerel pâté.
Karen and Steve arrived on a spur of the moment visit. We ask them to join us at 'Mucky Willie's', all renovated now. Joined by Dave L and one of his domestic science teachers called José, and Jackie and Barry. Pissed again. Jolly night. Back to ours with Dave and José for another critical review of my paintings.
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Queer sort of day. Have the Argentinians invaded our treasured Falkland Islands? Don't know.
Home at 6. Ally and I sat by candlelight devouring lamb with peppers, and putting back lager and strawberry wine.
Saw no TV but got through several piano concertos and David Bowie. I sat reading my diary and soon realised from my account of our pre-marital relationship that I had a fancy for her despite Mr Pinder's presence. Ally says that Pinder was very fond of me. Got pissed up and went to bed after 12 leaving a greasy sheep carcas in the crock-pot in the middle of the floor.
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