Monday June 28, 1982

 The gas man cometh again. Devastation. Got to the YP at 9. Sarah says that the Rolling Stones tickets are on sale and placed £20 in my hands and I dashed off and bought two tickets. Ally was unsure about it, but left the final decision to me. I took the plunge. Well, we'll never get the opportunity to see Jagger again. The man is almost 40.

Spoke to Mama on the phone later. She says John would also love to see the Stones too, and so I robbed the tea money and went back into town at 3:30 and bought him one. Left the office early because of the NUR. Good old Sid Weighell. Ally was at home sitting upon her piano stool amidst the piles of stone and plaster [not forgetting the mud] which gave the whole place at Dunkirk atmosphere. We went out to escape the dust and bought tomatoes and Tampax at the Co-Op. Rain. I held the umbrella like an equerry does for HM. 

It has been announced that the infant prince is to be William Arthur Philip Louis. Not a George in sight. Very pleased with it. The future King William V. I always knew Diana wouldn't go for Darren or Shaun. Prince William's six godparents consist of five relatives, Princess Alexandra [grandmother's cousin], King Constanine [grandfather's cousin], Lord Romsey [the infant's second cousin once removed], the Duchess of Westminster [a descendant of King George II], and Lady Susan Hussey, who, with the infant, shares a common ancestor in the 2nd Earl Waldegrave. Sir Laurens Van Der Post is the odd one out. I think it's all very fine. Louis just had to be in there somewhere. 

Spoke to John on the phone. He's chuffed about the Stones tickets. Dave L isn't interested, and besides, he leaves for Cornwall on that day. Jacq phoned and booked us for Tuesday next week.

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Sunday June 27, 1982

 3rd Sunday after Trinity

Our first wedding anniversary. We awoke at 8:30 and exchanged our presents. She got the egg cup and I a photo album and 'Triple' by Ken Follett. Twelve anniversary cards, and a fiver from Mummy. We regard the new wardrobe as our principal gift. Ally had a boiled egg for breakfast from her new egg cup, and we sat beaming across the table.  Marriage is a wonderful thing. Who would have thought it?

Afterwards I did a few windows until 11:30 when Lynn and Dave arrived with a sturdy Frances who beamed at us revealing what looked like a row of new teeth. We raised our glasses in a toast to marriage at 12 [the time we spliced] with the remains of Frank's gin and they left for York at 12:30 taking our summer clothers with them to wear in north Wales next week. Somehow I fear that T-shirts will not be required.

On to Guiseley at 6:30 to drink with Mum, Dad and John. John was speaking on the phone to Janette [we presume], and Mama was far from happy about it. The girl has also been writing to him. On to the Fox at 8:30 for T-bones and the full works. Splendid. Discuss sex and our shyness at first. White Cross. Home bed at 11 with a new plan of action. No more tonight.

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Saturday June 26, 1982

 Rose early and took up my paint brush and went off outside. The atmosphere indoors was frosty because we were having talks on the viability of going to Chippy's party in Leeds tonight. Obviously, it will be a disgusting affair, with Sunday exterminated because of it. I know deep down inside that it would be a mistake to go, but refused to admit it. Ally furious at the way I'm prepared to apparently spoil our first wedding anniversary in such a way. By 4:30 it was decided. I backed down. And no we don't go. I phoned Sue and told her. They are taking John, who must be making a big impact because he is now a regular Thursday night reveller.

At 5 we went to 'Cheap and Cheerful' and spent £55 on a delightful wardrobe [Sandalwood]. Exquisite. It has transformed our bedroom into the royal suite at Blenheim Palace. Home at 5:30. Pouring rain. The shop owner helped me carry the furniture to our bedroom. When he left we celebrated our purchase by reclining in a state of undress admiring our purchase. Ally reads me like a book. A fine polished wardrobe eases the pain of my missing out on a party.  Lasagne. Bed with Elizabeth I by Neville Williams.

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Friday June 25, 1982

 Went out and bought Ally a Minton Haddon Hall egg cup for our anniversary. Spent £3.30. 

YP: nothing momentous. YP dull. I spend all my time buried under my family trees to deaden the boredom of work. Ah well, only another 40 years to go. 

Home to my Pigeon at 6. We watched Glenda Jackson and the ghastly Vanessa Redgrave in 'Mary Queen of Scots', which I do not like. Still, it's better than the dreadful World Cup.

Dave L phoned and chatted for ages about nothing in particular. His South Yorkshire accent is becoming more pronounced. He's probably going to Chaplin's tomorrow with his Bradford teacher friends, and wants to know if Ally and I fancy a visit to the Warehouse on July 8 to see a band called 'Blancmange'. Ally turned her nose up at this. We went to bed and read our books.

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Thursday June 24, 1982

 Midsummers Day. Underwater. Downpour. 

Sat looking at our gas metre. I'm dumbfounded. Designed by the late Sir Basil Spence?

The infant prince was born on a day when no previous monarch entered the world. King Edward III departed from us on that day in 1377, and Richard II succeeded him. King William IV died on June 20, and Victoria was proclaimed Queen throughout the land on the following day.

Top of the Pops and bed. 

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Wednesday June 23, 1982

 Little Catherine is three today. We sent a card. ________. Hungover. Ally on a day off because of a NHS dispute. I took a half day and went home to Baby. The gasman came and made our pretty garden look like Port Stanley. We now have a hideous white box resembling a flight recorder on the outside wall. Ghastly. The car is knackered and won't start because of the damp. To the Co-op and then to bed. The infant Prince George remains un-named.

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Tuesday June 22, 1982

 The family tree I created for the EP back in March to commemorate the visit to Leeds by TRH the P & P of Wales was published in all its glory in this evening's EP. Fame at long last.

Ally and I went to Pudsey tonight at sat in the devastation of Wilsby drinking fizzy sherry and watching a World Cup football match. It's the 18th birthday of Paul [Edwards]. Out to the Beaulah, a pub near Tong. An unimpressive hole full of people devouring pork pies and mushy peas. Very disconcerting. The talk centred on John and Maria. Mainly rubbish and slop. Steve told ne the tale of a soldier friend who slashed his wrists becauser he couldn't keep up the payments to his straying wife. Very nice, I must say. Karen was drinking cocktails, all very reminiscent of Brideshead Revisited.  Hilda says the infant prince will be Alexander. 

Back at Wilsby I had a row with Paul's hideous little father, a Militant leftist. He began by asking me why I'd begun my published family with Henry VII at the top. I said it was as good a place to start as any. He let rip saying the royal family are parasites, and that the Queen is a 'rubber stamp'. Here we go. I did try to remain objective and attempted to walk away, but could not. He then introduced the Falklands into the argument, along with Ben Ford, the MP for Bradford North, and Wedgwood Benn's sanity, or lack of it. Eventually, with much spluttering he told me to 'piss off'. He couldn't have done better because this really played into my hands. Those in the lower intelligence bracket nearly always resort to abuse when all is lost. A grotty night.

Jill was fun and Tim remains crippled. Tony still clinging to his Liberal party. Mrs Edwards looked very reminiscent of a Coronation Street character, but twice as rough.

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