Saturday March 12, 1983

 Disgracefully we lay amongst our crumpled bedding until after 9. Ally concocted breakfast while I threw on my clothes and went out to the little shop over the road to buy five pillows at 95p each from a confused Pakistani. Evidently the price is something of a phenomenon and Mama, who wants them for Waltergarth, cannot let this opportunity slip by. We had breakfast and then went to Bradford, that is the metropolis, to buy a chicken and oven gloves (for Mum on Mother's Day) and then came home in the choking cigarette fumes at the top op of the bus. Took a steaming hot bath and listened to Duran Duran thumping up from below.

John and Janette came at 2pm and they sat for half an hour before taking us up to Horton, and the chaos of the accumulated family. Janette has found a job from Easter selling caravans and accessories at Yeadon. ___________. We drove up to Horton with a poorly made tape of the (Rolling) Stones. Jagger seemed to be singing through his underpants. Furious activity at Horton. Dad and Jim were under the floor banging around and we didn't see them for hours. Mum sat with Margaret, Susie and Christopher, and we joined them. Christopher is a comedian and rolled around the room causing much hilarity. We dined at 6 - the grown ups at the dining table, and the children in front of the television, and afterwards we, that is Sue, Pete, John, Janette, Ally and I, went to the Station Inn at Ribble Head, where we congregated around the juke box and drank like fish. It was so good for us all to be together making merry.  Janette joked that we were celebrating John (and Maria's) wedding anniversary, which falls tomorrow. Peter grows more and more to be like John Cleese. Sue like a bean-pole, but looks well. ________. We remained 'after hours' and left at 12:30. The common-law wife of the publican, draped in chiffon, was playing billiards, looking acutely bored, and making eyes at every man in the place. Back at Waltergarth we had sausage sandwiches and a few glasses of wine before retiring. Poor John and Janette had to sleep on the settee.

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Friday March 11, 1983

 My usual egg with Ally. To the YP with our vital statistics but didn't get a chance ton see Geoff all day and so I locked them in a drawer until next week. We had a young 18 year-old German girl in the office for the day. She is related to Delius. Kathleen said: "I thought he was a Bradford chap?" I tried desperately not to mention the war but found myself talking about jews, the bombing of Coventry, Eva Braun, Klaus Barbie and the 'Butcher of Lyons' (joke). Kathleen gave me £3.55 and I walked up to Morrison's at lunchtime and bought a bottle of Liebfraumilch which we drank with cream buns in the afternoon to celebrate the final day of indexing the YP. After 110 years Kathleen has decided to axe it as part of the library cuts. Carol J was close to tears. I feel sure that she now regrets applying for redundancy but now finds the door firmly slammed behind her. Surely, 'President Carter' isn't going to keep her?

Saw a batch of 15 photos of the Prince of Wales, Pcess of Wales, & Prince William of Wales all at Highgrove to be released next Tuesday. The Daily Express says that the Prince (junior) will be flying to the 'colonies' with eighteen tons of Johnson's Baby Powder. Diana has exquisite teeth, you know.

Ally phoned Lynn ___________. I phoned Mama who says Henry is resigned to the worst and is in a dreadful state. Phoned Sue. She goes tonight to Horton. Phoned John. He is coming to us tomorrow. He seems to be out at every opportunty with Chris and Pete. Janette may be his concubine, but clearly abandoned. I told John to ring Lynn. Ally phoned Bessie. Cousin Beverley Tebby has miscarried. Hot bath. TV. Ally made some rum truffles for Mummy on Mother's Day and here I am writing this at 10:43pm. The horrid ice-skating championships are on the telly.

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Thursday March 10, 1983

 Geoff (Hemingway) approached me this afternoon and asked me to give him "within the next few weeks" a full run-down of mine and Ally's qualifications both in academic and in commerce, &c. He says he will compose a letter, on our behalf, and bombard his contacts in the brewery trade. He has really taken me under his wing. He says he has made some discreet inquiries about me, and smiling, says I am not the person out of the office that I am in it. Is he trying to say that I go berserk once freed from the quiet confines of the library? Somebody must have been filling him in.

Didn't hear any further news of Audrey Baker today and didn't phone anyone, with the exception of my wife. I phone Ally every day.

My hair is horrible. I've just been looking at it. I've seen an article in the Times about mens hair and now fancy a 'D.A. cut'. Good good, most men of my generation are now green and spiky. I left the ofice at 5:06pm and suffered because of it. Got no bus until 5:50, and didn't walk in the house until 6:50. Like a wounded puma. Ally brought me round. Avocado and prawns followed by lasagne. Cuddles, &c. Spent the evening typing our vital statistics for Geoff. Watched the ghastly 'Citadel' and to bed after 12.

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Wednesday March 9, 1983

 We were laying in bed at 7am with no particular enthusiasm until we heard the thud of the mail coming through the letter box. Ally scampered downstairs like a young lamb and came back screaming with letters from Tetley's and Sam Smith's breweries. The Tetley's application form looks best, but let's wait and see. At least this is something to go at. We had eggs and Ally's fresh bread and went our separate ways.

Phoned Mum. She had heard from Lynn. Audrey is still unconscious, supposedly sedated, and that she's on a machine to keep her lungs going. My God it sounds awful. I came back at lunchtime (to the YP) and found Geoff Hemingway whispering with Kathleen. He gave her the same treatment that he gave me yesterday, that I am too good an employee to lose. He then gave me a fiver for a tip, but I know of none. Had a chat with Steve Burnip. He's leaving in a month and wants to open a second hand book shop. Surely this redundancy caper will be the making of us folk in awful, dull jobs. Sarah says that Mrs Slocombe has told Austin-Clarke that I intended leaving anyway, with or without the redundancy money. The cow!

I sat in Park Square with a sandwich looking at the daffodils poking up through the soil. Will poor Audrey be around to see them in flower? This tragedy is such a blow. She is only 54. Phoned Ally. Not in a joyful mood. The hideous Derek is getting her down.

At home I was very positive and took up the phone and dialled five or six local pubs to ask about bar work. The landlord at the Oddfellows was the most interested and took down my particulars, and said he'd ring me when a vacancy occurs. The others were disinterested and very brief. We ate a very odd meal tonight. Veg soup, potatoes (baked), melted cheese, cold rice pudding from yesterday, and orange squash to drink. On Channel 4 Peter Bogdanov(ich) was talking about Shakespeare's 'Measure for Measure'.

At 7:15 I phoned poor David B who sounded shattered. He explained his mother's injuries, which are terrible. Her liver was 'cut in half' on impact, and that she will be unconscious until the weekend or even afterwards. She recognised Dave and Henry yesterday and squeezed their hands and moved her eyes in response to their questions. The internal bleeding has been stopped, but they must be prepared for a long wait. I offered our sympathy to him. He seemed utterly desolate. We watched TV and sat in solemn reflection. Dallas, the news, bed.

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Tuesday March 8, 1983

 Up and in the bath. The postman brought nothing from a brewery. David is 27 today and dear Auntie Mabel is 64. Ally remembered to post her card last night just before the post office closed.

I was perturbed to hear on the news that Princess Michael of Kent was attacked yesterday at the Ideal Home Exhibition by a mad 'wolf man' who attempted to bite Her Royal Highness.

At breakfast I told Ally I'll phone some pubs tonight to enquire about part time jobs. Boiled eggs and toast.

To the YP. _________. Geoff Hemingway tells me that he's asked Malcolm (Barker) on many occasions to find me employment, and now that he knows we are interested in a pub he will have a word with some top brass at Tetley's. He also said he will give me a reference or help with anything and do anything in his power to assist. He is such a good friend.

Later, feeling quite cheerful and tending to my spider plants, Mum phoned with some tragic news. Poor Audrey Baker had a car accident this morning at the crossroads at Pool Bank, and is in hospital with a fractured skull, two broken legs, and internal injuries. David with his father and brothers are at Leeds General Infirmary. Mum says Audrey is 'very poorly'. A gloomy afternoon reflecting on the insecurity of life. Audrey, happily going about her busy life yesterday, and today is flat out, precariously close to death.

Ally phoned Lynn at 4:30 and she said that Audrey was conscious after an operation and she had wished David a happy birthday. She is to have an operation on her internal injuries tonight. Apparently Lynn was passed the tearful stage and in a rage damning the motor car.

We had pie and peas. Phoned Auntie Mabel and wished her a happy birthday. She has had twenty three birthday cards and a visit from Marlene. I bottled beer. Obviously, I phoned no pubs. I am a useless object.

The nine o'clock news was pleasant. (Arthur) Scargill has once again been kicked in the naughty parts by his miners. They voted not to strike. Her Majesty has arrived in Canada, and it's still raining.

Watched a play on the BBC set in Ireland in 1959. To bed with Pepys but didn't look at it.

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Monday March 7, 1983

 Up at 6:44 and into our tub. This redundancy stuff is heavy on my sub-conscious.

At the YP I have a note from Anne (night staff) saying 'no miracle has occurred' whereby she can find the files for the news cuttings I insist on leaving her. Furious, I penned her a note quoting John Eliot, saying something to the effect that miracles 'will not get things done, get up and do it yourself and the Lord will be with you'. I expect an acid reply tomorrow, or even the sack because you know how Kathleen is overly devoted to the night staff. I think that perhaps Anne might be one of the three per cent. (It's company policy for three per cent of the work force to be of low intelligence).

Phoned Ally but didn't say much because someone came to see me and stood hovering. Carol J might be changing her mind. She was in a foul mood all day. Sarah came in to report on her Scarborough visit. They spent their evenings swilling Martini and playing cards.

I phoned Horton-in-Ribblesdale and Lynn answered. We sent her a £5 note for her birthday and she is going to buy perfume. Spoke to Mama. They had a couple stay for the weekend from Cheadle Hulme who have a niece who lives near the Hollywood. She laughed. Frances cannot understand why strange people have been eating breakfast in grandma's house. David in the dog house. He forgot to include Katie's name on Lynn's birthday card.

Tonight we had breast of lamb, and wrote letters to breweries. Tetley's, Matthew Brown and Bass North. Let us hope to God we hear something.

Coronation Street is dull. Ken and Deirdre are still in Malta. Ally is tending to her plants and a James Mason film is on the telly. I've seen it before. It's the one about the Roman Catholic boys school where evil is lurking in the shape of a demon English master who is possessing the minds of the boys. Ally not impressed. We also watched part one of 'My Cousin Rachel' starring Geraldine Chaplin.

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Sunday March 6, 1983

 3rd Sunday in Lent. Last Quarter.

Slept in David's bed. The slaves downstairs seem to begin work at dawn. Up at 10:30. We sat knee-deep in Sunday papers and had a massive cooked breakfast. Definitely fragile. David G fighting fit becaus his drinking capacity has been drastically curtailed in recent years. He drinks half pints, you know. Ally played us a waltz on the piano, now downstairs, and Dave took me down and showed me the barrels in the cellar, and just how to change them. He talked with great pride about his 'dear old dad', who taught him the rudiments of running the Hollywood. After breakfast we walked back to the Armoury. (It seems that the lads have stopped coming to the Hollywood on Sundays. Lily is quite upset about it). The pub was busy and I wanted to sit down and so we crossed the road to the Grapes. It's always the case that I just begin to feel human again when the bar shuts. Much reminiscing about Bournemouth '79 and our antics. Ally suggests a weekend at Blackpool. What fun that would be. Back to the Holly at 2. Chicken. I think we all had a chicken each. Sadie the dog is still looking at me as though I have three heads. We sat with grandad and watched the football and part 48m of 'Dombey and Son' and left at 6:30. Dave promises to visit in a couple of weeks. We were home at 9pm. Exhausted. We watched a programme on the Duke of Wellington's tenure of No 10 Downing Street. A cheap production. To bed at 10:30. Lynn was 25 today.

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