Saturday December 18, 1982

 I was awake at 8:30 listening to Dad pottering around. We emerged for breakfast. We regret last night's excesses, but I didn't feel too bad. Brewed coffee (we have a new coffee-maker from Bessie). I cannot write. Everything is so bitty.

Over to Guiseley at 10. To Thorpefields, Lynn and Dave's new home. A good, solid family-sized house which they'll be able to fill with babies. Spent the whole day travelling between Burley and Guiseley in a large van, loading and unloading. Ghastly. 

To Sue's afterwards, and then out at 8 to the Station (Hotel). Felt shattered. We consisted of: Ally, I, Dave L, John, Jill, Tim, Sue, Pete, Lynn, Dave B, & Chris and Peter came on in at 10:30. Mr & Mrs Brotherwood too. Tony in a trilby. To the flat afterwards. Not a large turn out, but fun. _______ came with her tiny, yet perfectly formed Duran Duran friend and thery proceeded to copulate on the settee. It was great viewing. Spent the evening avoiding toad-like people. John's neighbour, a nurse from the asylum, by the name of Janet, arrived and grabbed hold of John and held his attention all night. A very forward young lady. 

Dave L, Tim and I went across the road to a flat above the fish and chip shop to investigate reports of another lively party taking place, but found nothing but a very old woman tucked up in bed. Felt like Michael Fagan, the intruder who entered the Queen's bedroom.

Back at John's: Sue was in good spirits, and brought the house down. (Peter) Lazenby arrived late and stood cuddling Ally asking me to 'take care of her'. Jill informs us that my cousin's wife, Jennifer Myers, is expecting her third child next summer. Janet took John off to her flat to inspect her Beatles LPs, and the party drifted away into the ice and snow. Ally and I found a bed.

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Friday December 17, 1982

 Go to the market. Very festive. Buy wrapping paper and some cards. Horribly wet day, utterly miserable.

Left the YP at 4 and stood for 45 minutes waiting for a bus, again. By the time I arrived home I was depressed. Very unfestive. Ally looking pale. She says she feels odd ___________.

Mum and Dad came at 7:30 from John's and we cheered up considerably over dinner. Scampi, profiteroles, &c. Dad messed around with the clock and managed to get it going again. Drink flowed. Mum drank liqueurs like water. Cointreau and Tia Maria. After midnight we gave them their Christmas presents and they were delighted. Mum sat fondling her Lanzarote tablecloth, and beaming. The scene reminiscent of Christmas day. Torn wrapping paper and broken Brazil nut shells everywhere. We finally retired to bed at 4am.

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Thursday December 16, 1982

 Hail, the lot. The gales have calmed down but snow is now on the way. By evening it did come, and the skies were white and threatening.. It looks as if my green wellies are going to be put to use after all.

We have a Christmas card from the anonymous man at number 12, who signs himself 'Charles Eyden'. A grand sounding name, I think.  Poor man, he sees no one.

YP: No Kathleen or Sarah today. News: Michael Heseltine is increasing our rates next year. Ian MacDonald, the MOD official and spokesman, has been slated for his angling of the Falklands thing. I thought he was brilliant. He made our so-called broadcasters on TV news today look like pantomime dames. The BBC news has now stooped to employing an Irishman as political editor. I strain to understand what is going on, and occasionally grasp the word 'Thatcher' and the phrase 'back bench rebels'. Nine new life peers were announced today. Welsh solicitors, &c. The Earl of Crawford's daughter is engaged to the son of the librarian at Windsor - one for the diary.

Mother phoned this morning whilst on 'Christopher watch'. Dad was out with Susie shopping. They had a cheque yesterday for £31,000 for the sale of Pine Tops. It was hurriedly placed in the bank. They dined afterwards at the Damn Yankee.

Home to Ally. We had sandwiches. Bake afterwards. I made a batch of profiteroles and Ally some mince pies. The smell of food is driving me insane. Watched sweaty 'Tenko' again. It's a real fun-packed show, that.

Sir Robin Day, &c.

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Wednesday December 15, 1982

 New Moon

90 MPH gale force winds throughout Yorkshire - a dreadful day. Ally had a second day off to put the finishing touches to her Christmas preparations. The house is looking excellent. Last week it resembled an Afghanistan bomb site. Poached eggs. 

YP: Sarah off. Worked through lunch listening to the wind howling outside. Mrs Slocombe coughing over her typewriter like at inmate of St Gemma's Hospice. Margo is rapidly becoming the office comedian. 'What is the number one record in Heaven?' she asked. My curiosity aroused. 'Wide Eyed and Legless', she answers, ' a duet by Marty Feldman and Arthur Askey'.

Home at 6. Ally looking like a rugby player in a striped shirt. We had dumplings in mince and a rice pudding. We have had some Christmas cards from my great-aunt Anne (Kirk) and Uncle Tom in Barrowford.

Ally sat watching 'Dallas'. I'm astonished that she finds it entertaining. Dave L phoned  and was abrupt. He wanted to come over last Thursday but we were out dining with the Wattses. He asked whether John's party is still on. I told him yes. He also enquired about ours at New Year. Will he bring his punk pals? We have a new carpet. To bed at 9:30.

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Tuesday December 14, 1982

 Somewhat wintry. The usual sort of day. Worked through lunch and left at 4:30, but didn't get on a bloody bus until 5. Met Ally in the interchange and we got an 88 (bus) to Pudsey. To the home of Auntie Mabel, matriarch of the Wilson family. We dined on tuna salad, roast chicken, apple pie and cream. Because we are ruled by the buses our stay was short, and we swapped Christmas cards and looked at the photos of Lanzarote. The gas fire, belting out heat like a furnace, reminiscent of one of those steelworks before they all closed down.

We had a good dig at some of our relations, including her 'posh' niece A____ W. Auntie Mabel sat reading the Court Circular - out loud. We left at 9:15. Home at 10. 

Saw Peter Firth in 'The Flipside of Dominick Hide' - the sequal. Brilliant. Then to bed. A very cold night.

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Monday December 13, 1982

 Fun on public transport. A bus inspector climbed onto the No 72. This little chappie was a real little mobile Alexei Sayle. He addressed the passengers with a tale about a less fortunate traveller whom he said he thought had fallen asleep, and journeyed between Rodley and Leeds eight times before the bus driver discovered he was dead. 'He just missed seeing Santa Claus', he added.

Ally is like a baby at Christmas time. Her eyes gleaming as she skips around smelling at the pine branches of the tree, and shaking presents like a little gnome. She spent lunchtime buying presents and we spent the evening wrapping them and writing Christmas cards. We send horrible cards with pictures of dogs and mice to the neighbours. It's our theory that they are all old and blind anyway. How's that for Christmas spirit? We played our only Christmas LP which is Mario Lanza singing carols. He has trouble singing the word 'Israel'.

Coronation Street: the cast is now growing so old it is hard to understand what they say. 

Sunday December 12, 1982

 3rd Sunday in Advent

Ally and I slept in John's bed, and he slept on his ghastly settee. We were awakened at 12 by Lynn and Dave with Frances, and a roll of carpet. I got up to vomit. Ally (so cruel) laughing in her bed at the sounds of me heaving and David banging around laying the carpet. All too much for me.

Eggs, bacon, sausages, then we left left John's building site of a flat to go to West End Terrace, now the Nason/Rhodes residence. The poor people are all sitting round, almost on top of each other, but seem happy. Christopher was everywhere. I don't think I could cope with him. I'd go mad. John brought us home at 5, and we dug up the Christmas tree in the garden and erected it by the fireside. Ours is such a romantic, cosy house. The epitome of Yuletide. Fish pie and carrots.

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