Monday November 22, 1982

 To Puerto Del Carmen with Sheila at the wheel of her finy Fiat. She deposited us in the centre of things. Had a few drinks with John at the Bagatelle Bar. He wants to buy an apartment costing £16,000. Sheila looked nervous as he set out, cigar in mouth, to see his bank manager. She says life is always like this. John really should be a millionaire, but isn't quite there yet. We left Sheila and went off and had lunch in an open bar. Me grilled prawns and Ally a fish salad which she poked at. Not good. Back for a siesta. 

At Macher, Lanzarote

This evening we dined at La Finca with J & S, Julian and Hilary. Steak again. I don't mind Julian with his university style sense of humour. I expected a whoopee cushion at any moment. Hilary however is an absolute cow who mocks our Yorkshire accent. Why do people do this? Do we fall about in hysterics when we meet someone from Wiltshire? John, sensing the disapproval, got his own back and asked her where she was born. She went red and after a pause said 'Virginia Water', which was of course a lie. She's obviously from Manchester. She said Virginia Water just to impress John with whom she flirts terribly. Sheila sat looking daggers across the dining table. John really shouldn't encourage the woman. The most amusing thing about La Finca was the singer providing the background music. Horrendous stuff which had us in hysterics. A lousy singer slaughtering all the classics. We asked the waitress for the singer's identity and she says 'Peter Hoffman'. None the wiser. Hilary wanted to dance, but we didn't. Home and to bed.

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Sunday November 21, 1982

 Last Sunday after Trinity

Up at 11:30. John and Sheila left to see friends for lunch at a distant hotel. We were invited to join them but dropped out when Sheila offered us the use of her car for the day. Ally drove to Puerto Del Carmen down a dusty cactus-lined road covered in picon [?] She didn't drive into the town but parked outside to avoid the law. We are not insured on Sheila's car, and Ally hasn't brought her driving licence. On the beach there for a couple of

hours. Hambugers and beer at a beach-side cafe, and then returned to the villa at 5 for a siesta. John and Sheila are back. Lunch was £12 and not spectacular. The dogs lick round us as though we've been away for six months. Drank tea on the terrace. They ar not great boozers. Siesta until 7:30. We lay whispering in bed. Dined at Caspar's (down near the harbour). The proprietress is a German baroness who looks like the girl in Abba, Frieda. Excellent dinner. We dined upstairs. The ferns however, were plastic. Pleasant chatter ranging from abysmal TV to the genius of Peter Sellers, and the adolescent-style behaviour of the adult Spanish. It's John's opinion that in a business conference with a Spaniard once they start playing with their genitals it's a sign that you (the Englishman) is heading for a victory in the negotiations. On to the Waikiki cocktail bar. Sheila insists the place is a homosexual haunt. Pina Coladas. Then the Beach Club disco. J & S left us at 3am. We had a few more drinks and walked back at 5am. Exhausted.

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Saturday November 20, 1982

 Sheila drove us to Puerto De Carmen this morning so that Ally can look at sun glasses. They are all far too expensive and in the end she borrowed a pair belonging to Valerie (my cousin).  They took us to the north of the island for lunch, and I'm almost asleep. We lunched on a mountain top. We all had prawns in garlic - delicious. Afterwards we must all have smelled very anti-social. I settled the bill - 2,800 pesetas. Then on to Mirador Del Rio, spectacular views, and the caves of Jameos del agua, a very relaxing spot.  Home tonight quite buggered. We sat watching films on John's video recorder. The first was an Australian creation 'Mad Max', set in the outback after a nuclear holocaust. Then Richard Burton in 'Villain'. Roast chicken around the grand table. Ally is stunned by John's likeness to Papa and she giggles and exclaims in wonderment every time he opens his mouth to speak. Sheila flits about like a bird, and is clearly very much in love with John.

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Friday November 19, 1982

 The weather is quite amazing. I don't think I will ever forget the feeling as I stepped off the plane yesterday. Up for eggs and bacon in the kitchen. Inspect the house. It's built around a central courtyard filled with exotic plants and trees. Our bedroom has a beamed ceiling and impressive headboard. The sitting room is large and cool with a fireplace worthy of Blenheim Palace for its size. The dining table is twenty feet long and a crystal chandelier hangs above. Sheila took us to Playa Blanca, a quiet spot to the south of the island. Her car took us through some amazing scenery. Very prehistoric and haunting. John says the island attracts lots of ESP types. Ally and I had sangria. Sheila drank only coffee because she's taking anti-biotics for a septic tooth. Joined by John and his Spanish business partner, Prudencio, at lunch where we ate fish in various shapes and forms. Ally and I left them afterwards and went to lay on the beach until 5. To the Victoria Inn for dinner. It's owned by an Englishman with a Norwegian wife. Pepper steaks, &c. Ally has the runs and the Scandinavian lady gave her a pill. Back at Macher John and I sat in the courtyard with a bottle of brandy. The ladies retired. We sat looking at the stars and attempted to solve the world's problems. John tells me he has a 'Rhodes index'  - similar to the IQ test - but based on personality, charisma and humour, &c. He believes in green men from outer space, ghosts, reincarnation, the whole damn lot. Bed, pissed, at 2am.

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Thursday November 18, 1982

 Funeral over we can now think about the holiday. Out of bed at 5. Frantic packing in the dark and rain. Well, it wasn't raining indoors, but you know what I mean. Dave B phoned and arrived at 7. He was in one of his serious moods, and sat drawing on a cigar contemplating the ceiling. To Manchester Airport arriving at 8:45. Ally had to pay an extra £10 to travel with a passport named as Dixon when her flight ticket is named as Rhodes. Gin and tonics. We flew at 10:15. It was like a flying Berni Inn. We drank like fish. The plane was half full of babies. Must tell Sue and Peter about this. Arrived at Arrecife Airport, Lanzarote, at 2:30 and met John and Sheila, lurking behind potted palms. He is tall, tanned and extremely distinguished. I suppose he's a streamlined version of dear Papa. Sheila is thin and well-groomed and just as affected as she was 10 years ago. Little changed. John, with an enormous 10 inch cigar, drove us to their vast villa surrounded by giant palms and set in the scorched countryside. Everything inside is on an enormous scale. Hugo (the labrador) is alive and well. Out for a pizza with John and Sheila and a couple called Julian and Hilary. He's a Peter O'Toole look-alike. Garlic. Raging thirst. Home and to bed at 10:30. Ally is brown before we start.

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Wednesday November 17, 1982

 Hideous wet day. Howling wind and rain. Furious activity. Ally up and out to the hairdresser at 9. I made the house look respectable, and dressed in my blackest clothes. Ally back at 10 looking beautiful. Frank & Bessie came at 11 and went went directly to Colne. To Uncle Tom's house for 12. Frank insisted on driving around for 15 minutes to shorten the stay in the home of the deceased. Inside, everyone stood grouped in the kitchen, some hideously cheerful and others near to collapse with grief. Met Ally's cousins Steven and David. Poor Hilda was lying in an open coffin in the sitting room, and we all had to file in for a prayer before leaving for Burnley Crematorium. I avoided looking at the corpse, but Ally caught a glimpse and burst into tears. This also upset Bessie who had been calm up to this point. Cremation over. I think I must be turning atheist. Ham sandwiches afterwards at Uncle Tom's. He is stunned and numbed by it all. Poor Auntie Hilda was only 47. Back to Bradford at 7. Ate at the Pizza House after having a drink at the Norfolk Gardens Hotel. Bed.

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Tuesday November 16, 1982

More rain. We'd be feeling quite jolly if it wasn't for poor Auntie Hilda (White). At the YP I told them I want tomorrow off to attend the funeral and Kathleen makes me take a half day, my last half day of the year, and presumably throws in another half day out of sympathy. This is from the woman who took months off last year because her father was unwell. Hardly fair. 

Worked until 4 and then went to buy £110 travellers cheques from Thomas Cook, and £15 in pesetas. I also collected a metro card for next month. Home to Ally and chicken sandwiches at 6.

Out to Guiseley and Sue and Pete's at 7. Sue looks lovely with a new short hairstyle. Mum and Dad arrived at 8. We argued, yet again _____________. John came in at 10. Dad drove us home at 12. Talk about Horton-in-Ribblesdale. Ally says she now sees from where Lynn derives her wild enthusiasm. 

To bed.

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