Wednesday January 4, 1984

 5, Club Street, Lidget Green, Bradford

Ally: grizzly bear.

Fine, yet frosty. Ally was in a tetchy mood all day and we put it down to nerves. She was unbearable this morning. It's like living with a female Neil Kinnock. Quite intolerable. We were awake at 5am and by 6 I was compiling a letter to Les Gledhill asking 'please could you give us the Moorhouse?'  By 8 the letter was posted. I ventured out in the snow at dawn like Capt Oates to find a newspaper. Cecil Parkinson's mistress has given birth to a daughter. The Rev Jesse Jackson dominates the news. He clearly copies the late Martin Luther King and is very theatrical. Breakfast was volatile and eggs were almost thrown. We went out and sat in the car where I demolished the inside mirror. More Shakespearian tragedy. We sat there with a large tube of glue (like so many young people today), and managed to secure the rear view mirror back in place. We went to town and came back two hours later with sanitary towels, nappies, feeding bottles and cotton wool balls. Ally wore a very large brown pullover and looked like a grizzly bear. We had some funny looks. If you want to go out and get noticed take a gigantic, pregnant woman with you. She slept in her bed from 3 until 6:30pm. I sat and finished Margaret Thatcher by Penny Junor. Recent biographies, or those of the living are seldom very good. Who was it that advised 'never read a book that is not a year old?' Was it Ralph Waldo Emerson? Fish for dinner. Ally only ate it because I enjoy it. Feet up afterwards. The baby kicked away viciously, and Ally sat with her orange juice splashing around in the glass. We have, so it seems, created a rugby prop forward. 'Coronation Street' - Elsie Tanner has left and gone to live in Portugal, saying goodbye to the cobbles forever. Saw the wonderful (Alan) Whicker. I could watch him until the cows come home. This week he was on the QE2. Ally would hate it - the social climbers abound. Bed by 11. Ally is calmer and all is forgiven. She is sitting in bed with a smile upon her face.

-=-

Tuesday January 3, 1984

 New Moon

Waltergarth, Station Road, Horton-in-Ribblesdale

Waltergarth.

Katie Davina's first birthday. We woke up to snow at Horton and decided to leave for home very quickly and before we could be 'snowed in'. Mum missed breakfast and stayed in her bed complaining of a acheing back and congested chest. Dad was singing along to the Jimmy Young Show on the radio. Ally and I had boiled eggs. Very 'eggy' eggs, according to my wife. We packed up and left at about 12 and phoned Mum on our arrival home. They were very relieved that we had returned safely to Bradford. 

At 2pm Ally went to her her motherclass class at Odsal. She watched a demonstration by a midwife who bathed a doll in the bath, a bath without water in it. Her friend who was expecting a breech birth gave birth to a daughter on the Tuesday after Christmas. She came home after 4 in falling snow again. ________. I made some chips and whilst wrapping the potato peelings in an old copy of the Daily Telegraph I spotted the list of New Years Honours. The awful Alastair Burnet, a mere newscaster, has been knighted, lowering the tone. Lady Susan Hussey is made a DCVO. It is reported that the Queen has been angered by the usual flocking to Sandringham by the gentlemen of the press and she has asked for a withdrawal.___________.

A dark, frosty and white night. To think that John will be in his shirt sleeves in a Spanish discotheque. He says he wants to go to Lanzarote in the autumn to see John & Sheila, and that Sue and Pete are thinking of joining them. Ally says we should arrange someting for November. No mail at home. No communication from the brewery. We will write about the Moorhouse tomorrow. We cannot go hanging around like this and once the baby is here we need to get the ball rolling. I will be happier after hearing from Les Gledhill again. Bessie phoned - frost in Hampshire. Ally changed into her pink gown and slumped in a chair to watch 'Dallas'. We watched the news headlines at nine and then went to bed with Margaret Thatcher. The US presidential campaign is under way already. Jesse Jackson is a contender for the presidency and is currently strutting around the Middle East as if he owns the place.

Monday January 2, 1984

 Bank Holiday in UK & Rep. of Ireland

Waltergarth, Station Road, Horton-in-Ribblesdale

Dad at Horton.

Cold, wet and windy. Dad is 50, Mum is 49. Mum loves her birthday more than anyone I know and loves to include all the excitable children. We were up early to bid farewell to the Bakers after the handing over of presents and cards. We bought Dad a pullover, but so too did Lynn and Sue. Sue's, as usual, was knitted for a dwarf and didn't fit. She frequently purchases miniature items of clothing for very large people. Little Katie, who makes noises like a lion, opened her presents too. We have given Mum the tea pot and sugar basin featuring Hardraw Falls. Dad says we will go visit the falls with baby when we next come to Horton. 

Lynn and Dave left at 11 and Hilda and Tony walked in at 12:30 and we spent the afternoon eating (again) and drinking (again). Hayley is to be christened on January 29 and the vicar has specified to Karen that she can only have six people in church. Disgusting. Jesus Christ would not approve. We are told that Hayley would have been Ryan, if a boy. Hilda performed the old wives test of holding a dangling needle over Ally's bump. Supposedly, the suspended needle swings back and forth if a boy and if it goes round in circles then it's a girl. The needle today went back and forth, and so our child is a boy. Hilda says she's never been wrong. Dad, in excellent exuberant spirits, showed his contempt for this ritual by carrying out the experiment on all of us. I am expecting a boy, and Hilda is childless. Hers didn't swing either way. We sat until 10 when H and T returned to Pudsey. Tony is very wary of the stringent drink driving law enforcement. I sat looking at the Waltergarth deeds, fascinating paperwork  dating back to the last century. The strong wind blew the smoke back down the chimney and we sat with handkerchiefs over our faces like surgical masks. Much laughter. Bed at 12:30.

-=-

Sunday January 1, 1984

 (New volume)

1st Sunday after Christmas ... New Year's Day

Waltergarth, Station Road, Horton-in-Ribblesdale

New Year's Day saw the Rhodes clan gathered at Waltergarth in the township of Horton-in-Ribblesdale, in the County of North Yorkshire. The first New Year's Day for many years, for me, spent without a crashing head since the distant days of my innocent childhood. Yet, sadly however I am succumbing to a chill. I sneezed throughout and looked blotchy and feverish. Poor mother too is 'chesty' and wrapped in a woollen cardigan by the fireside. 

We had a staggered breakfast again. Just toast and tea and as soon it was decently possible we went out leaving the children with granny and grandad and walked to the Crown for the first shot of alcohol in 1984. I bought a round costing £6.50, but forgot Janette's Creme de Menthe. David, poor boy, had to borrow 50p to buy us all a drink . I am sure the Bakers are destitute since joining the Guiseley elite on Thorpe Lane. I found the draught Guinness most pleasurable. Janette is nervous about tomorrow's flight (they go to Majorca for a week with the Ettenfields) and I attempted to reassure her. 

Waltergarth.

Mum cooked a 20lb turkey for lunch this afternoon and once again it was a 'running buffet'. We all gathered around the log fire (could this be responsible for my dry throat and flowing mucus?). South Pacific nauseates on the TV. John and Janette went off with the Nasons at 4 and we packed the Baker girls off to bed after which all conversations were held in a whisper, &c. The TV droned on in the background. Lynn revealed all about childbirth ___________. We sat up until 12 and sang 'Happy Birthday' to Mum and Dad, but went to bed straight afterwards. Father is now 50 years old.

-=-

Saturday December 31, 1983

 Waltergarth, Station Rd, Horton-in-Ribblesdale

Bitterly cold. Breakfast was in relays because we all got out of bed at different times. Ally and I were last up. Just toast. Mum refuses to cook a 'full English' at the festive season. The cold wind and rain didn't prevent us wrapping up and heading down the lane leaving Mum wrestling with a leg of pork . Ally and Dad looked like sherpas. Christopher came too. We looked at the church and inspected the tomb stones and stood on the bridge watching the grey waters crashing beneath. Sue and Pete took Christopher back and we went into the Crown for a quick one. John and I had Guinness and Dad had lager showing his contempt for Matthew Brown's ale. When we returned home Mum complained. It seems that Dad can go nowhere without her. 

Them.

Us.

We de-frosted in front of a smouldering TV. Dad is becoming more and more anti-telly, and says he could easily put the contraption outside at this time of year. Lynn and Dave arrived with the girls and dusk and the party was complete. Frances and Katie have a very rigorous time-table and once they are in bed we all have to speak in a whisper, and strain to listen to the drone of the TV so not to disturb them. A quiet, yet happy gathering. Sue is a comedienne and delights us. Lynn insisted we watch Barbra Streisand in a sloppy epic, and by 11:30 everyone was drinking coffee. Before midnight I went out into the dark of Horton to await the New Year. Surely enough it arrived and I went in carrying a lump of coal (supposedly to bring good luck) and Dad cracked open four bottles of Italian bubbly. I went out again to let in the New Year at Frances & Bryan's down the lane and she gave me an enormous whisky and equally enormous kiss. She had knocked back three glasses of sherry, more than enough to make her merry. I brought them back to Waltergarth. 

It was Janette's first 'Hogmanay' outside Scotland, and a quiet one by our previous records. I can say with hand on heart that I was sober. How many times have I seen in the New Year without the blur of alcohol upon my eyes? The neighbours left after a glass of plonk and we sat until after 2am. Our child is one of '84 and not '83. Ally so relieved to have got through Christmas intact. Dad crept to bed at 3 and so did the others. I did the washing up with Mum. Mountains of Royal Albert. We had the pink suite. Ally uncomfortable. Baby is pressing down on her ________. And so endeth another year. A year of joy, upheaval and progress. Peace be with you all. Amen.

-=-

Friday December 30, 1983

 5, Club Street, Lidget Green, Bradford

Found some sleep at dawn and then slept until almost 11. Ally was ironing downstairs. She wants everything to be in order when the time comes. I went out for my ritual early walk for a newspaper. Perhaps I should order one to be delivered and save my legs. 

Princess Caroline of Monaco is on the front page with her Italian husband. Prince Rainier has grown a beard. I told Ally that the Grimaldi family will now lapse into their debauched, bohemian ways of old now that Princess Grace is no more. She had a firm hand I suspect. It is now only a matter of time before Rainier marries a nightclub singer with a taste for gin. You mark my words. 

Ally has canceled the milk delivery for tomorrow and has decided we should go to Horton today. She is terrified of going into labour in the barren waste of the Yorkshire Dales or on the heights of Pen-y-ghent and needs some assurance that she will be rushed back to Bradford at the slightest twinge. I phoned Sue and Mum. Sue says that John's Christmas party was poorly attended, with only the usual 'friends' and Marlene and Frank. Mum expected us last night for some reason and had bought sticky cream cakes for Ally. Ally phoned Bessie. Graham and Gill arrived today from the island (Isle of Wight) to spend new year at Martyr Worthy.

Mum: in her element.

At 12:30 we went up to have a bath. It's a tight fit for the two of us these days. We laughed about Horton. It's going to be a battle of the beds. Ally has been promised the pink suite, and I shudder at the thought of the children rioting again. We drove up before nightfall and were the first of the family at Waltergarth. The place is warm and festive. Mum is always in her element midst the family at party time. John and Janette brought Sue, Pete and Christopher before 6 and we all ate. Mum had made a game pie - delicious hare, and we enthused. Dumplings too. Christopher, the image of Susie, was calmer. Perhaps he is growing up a bit. A night around the fire drinking and eating in true seasonal style. John is looking bigger, but not with fat, but muscular. Janette suggested that they might marry at Horton Church and John laughed his sides sore. Bed late.

-=-

Thursday December 29, 1983

 5, Club Street

Uncle Albert day. 14 years since his passing. Colder. I made eggs for Ally and we drank gallons of tea in bed. She read the birth announcements in the Daily Telegraph. No Samuels or Clementines today, although a Samuel Paul was listed yesterday. Ally had a restless night listening to me snoring. She also accused me of stealing her pillows. I chastised her. Why couldn't she simply have shaken me and asked for them back? 

We have a late Christmas card from Uncle Bert in Nottingham which includes Reggie's address. I went out and splashed water on the car. It's only the second clean it's had since September. Ally stood ironing and looked pale today. We ate mounds of sandwiches and banana splits. 

I sat with Margaret Thatcher's biography. What has happened to the Labour party since Harold Wilson's departure? It was bad with him but one hell of a lot worse without him. I can think of nothing worse than Neil Kinnock, the arrogant upstart. Dear Mrs T will be at the helm of government until the 1990s. Watched 'Great Expectations' on TV. Janette phoned but we said we would have to miss the party tonight. I phoned Marlene (because Janette was too shy to do so) to give her the details of John's gathering. All the usual mob are meeting at the Station Hotel, of course. Ally went to the clinic at 3pm and came back tearful. She had endured a long wait in a dismal waiting room and was downhearted._________.

We finished the remains of our Turkey (thank God) and watched a ghost story on Channel 4. I do enjoy an eerie tale. Then with square eyes watched 'Dogs of War', a bit of a let down. So slow. Ally went to bed at 10 and I tolerated the film until 12. To bed with Margaret Thatcher but couldn't sleep, and neither could Ally. She got up and did some washing. I blame the baby.

-=-