_. A bugger of a day really. I woke up and the clock said nine o'clock. I had slept for seventeen hours.
Mum tells me David G is coming by train and will be here by 2pm. The other good news is that dearest Alison is with us once again. She arrived at 1pm and with Sue and Peter we went to the Yorkshire Rose for a 'buppy' (one of Dad's terms for a drink). A hideous scene awaited us. A couple of drunks were drinking themselves into paralysis and were rolling around like animals on the sticky carpet. Another scruffy individual was sleeping in a corner ~ all this and the landlord and bar staff were giggling. Sadly, Mum and Dad intend celebrating their silver wedding anniversary here. To make matters worse the place was swarming with dogs.
On to the Regent and home at 3pm to find David G drinking wine with Mother. At 6pm we went to Salvo's at Headingley for pizzas - well, that is David G, me, Sue, Peter and Alison. Alison is having an interview at Bradford Area Health Authority on Tuesday.
Afterwards we went to the Taps in Ilkley and then met Lynn & Dave at the Cow and Calf. I didn't like the place. It was packed with twelve year-olds, and so we moved to the Fox & Hounds which is too incredibly boring. When I suggested going on to Roger Ratcliffe's party in Leeds it wasn't well received. Subsequently we returned to Pine Tops in argumentative mood. I had bought a bottle of wine and a party can of ale.
Mum and Dad came in late from Wilsill where they had dined with Jim and Margaret. Squabbled furiously. We played Monopoly until Ally lost the little dog and everyone else fell asleep. Peter stole £600,000 of Monopoly money and slipped it amongst my toytown cash. Subsequently I was accused of cheating. The noise was dreadful. At 3am we woke Mum from her slumbers whilst arguing about the sleeping arrangements. Some very hot tempers flared throughout the household.
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20180416
Friday May 4, 1979
_. To Ivory Towers on West End Lane (Horsforth). Delia howled with excitement as I sat on the edge of her bed informing her of Jeremy Thorpe's defeat in Devon and the Tory revival in the land. We ate scrambled eggs and drank the fizz. At 8:30am, in brilliant sunshine, Delia drove Sarah and I to the YP. Kathleen was dumbfounded and very nasty about the Tory victory. She didn't approve of me wearing a blue rosette in the office. Library staff, she thinks, ought to be impartial. Blimey, I'm not the fucking Duke of Edinburgh.
After about half an hour I began quite seriously to lose my powers of speech and vision, and a total inability to type. Sarah took me out at 12 and I slumped, almost unconscious, on a park bench in Park Square. At 2 Kathleen realised I was beyond hope of recovery and sent me home. She wanted the flash of my blue rosette out of the office for sure. I got a bus and slept all the way to Guiseley.
At home I focused only briefly on the telly to see Margaret Thatcher leaving Buckingham Palace as our first woman prime minister, and at 4pm I staggered to bed. Four o'clock in the afternoon and I succumb like an eighty year-old geriatric! Lay in bed with the soothing paralysis creeping upon me and contemplating the idea of a Conservative government. My last act of the day was to let out a burst of laughter at the thought of what Mrs T will do to those revolting trade unionists who get out of hand.
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After about half an hour I began quite seriously to lose my powers of speech and vision, and a total inability to type. Sarah took me out at 12 and I slumped, almost unconscious, on a park bench in Park Square. At 2 Kathleen realised I was beyond hope of recovery and sent me home. She wanted the flash of my blue rosette out of the office for sure. I got a bus and slept all the way to Guiseley.
At home I focused only briefly on the telly to see Margaret Thatcher leaving Buckingham Palace as our first woman prime minister, and at 4pm I staggered to bed. Four o'clock in the afternoon and I succumb like an eighty year-old geriatric! Lay in bed with the soothing paralysis creeping upon me and contemplating the idea of a Conservative government. My last act of the day was to let out a burst of laughter at the thought of what Mrs T will do to those revolting trade unionists who get out of hand.
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Thursday May 3, 1979
_. General Election. Dad got me out of bed at 5:40am and then went out on very early duty to guard the polling station at Oxford Road School.
At five minutes to seven I took Dad's large bicycle and pedalled to Hawksworth village and cast both my votes for the Conservative party. Giles Shaw the parliamentary candidate and old Mr Freeman, the municipal candidate. I was the first person to vote at the polling station. Cycled back to breakfast with Mother and Susan. Yes, my mother emerged from her bed. I haven't seen her up so early since Christmas.
To the YP with Jim (Rawnsley) and the delightful Jennie. An interesting day at the office. Kathleen is convinced that tomorrow we will have a hung parliament and is convinced that one party with a big, working majority will never happen again. "You have to face the facts, Michael," she intoned: "the vast majority of the British public want a middle-of-the-road type of government with a re-emergence of the Liberal party." I cannot see this wishy-washy attitude catching on at all.
Sarah and I went to Len's Bar for lunch. _________.
Home at 5pm in a snow storm. Yes, snow. Bought a bottle of Cinzano and twenty cigs and wished a 'Merry Christmas' to the silly sods out walking dogs. Quite freezing cold.
Mum was in a nasty temper and we argued like rat and dog (sic). Lynn and Dave B arrived at 6:30 followed by Jim N, Margaret and Julie N at 9 o'clock.
From the very start of the election programme on the BBC it was obvious to all that Margaret Thatcher will be prime minister tomorrow. The swing to the Conservative party was something in the region of five or six per cent throughout the nation. I didn't feel particularly pissed but throughout the night we consumed a vast reservoir of alcohol. Lynn was invited to stay the night, but they left at about 4:30am, and poor, dejected Labour supporter and Jim Callaghan fan Jim Nason went weeping on his way at 5:30. Mum and Dad went off to bed and I cleared some of the debris to the sound of screaming birds in the snow-covered trees. Then, as if empowered by some superior force, I grabbed my jacket, with the stuffed bird stitched to the shoulder, my Mark Phillips style flat cap, and bottle of 55p pomagne, and walked to Ivory Towers, about six miles away, for breakfast with Delia and Sarah.
(Now see the following entry)
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At five minutes to seven I took Dad's large bicycle and pedalled to Hawksworth village and cast both my votes for the Conservative party. Giles Shaw the parliamentary candidate and old Mr Freeman, the municipal candidate. I was the first person to vote at the polling station. Cycled back to breakfast with Mother and Susan. Yes, my mother emerged from her bed. I haven't seen her up so early since Christmas.
To the YP with Jim (Rawnsley) and the delightful Jennie. An interesting day at the office. Kathleen is convinced that tomorrow we will have a hung parliament and is convinced that one party with a big, working majority will never happen again. "You have to face the facts, Michael," she intoned: "the vast majority of the British public want a middle-of-the-road type of government with a re-emergence of the Liberal party." I cannot see this wishy-washy attitude catching on at all.
Sarah and I went to Len's Bar for lunch. _________.
Home at 5pm in a snow storm. Yes, snow. Bought a bottle of Cinzano and twenty cigs and wished a 'Merry Christmas' to the silly sods out walking dogs. Quite freezing cold.
Mum was in a nasty temper and we argued like rat and dog (sic). Lynn and Dave B arrived at 6:30 followed by Jim N, Margaret and Julie N at 9 o'clock.
From the very start of the election programme on the BBC it was obvious to all that Margaret Thatcher will be prime minister tomorrow. The swing to the Conservative party was something in the region of five or six per cent throughout the nation. I didn't feel particularly pissed but throughout the night we consumed a vast reservoir of alcohol. Lynn was invited to stay the night, but they left at about 4:30am, and poor, dejected Labour supporter and Jim Callaghan fan Jim Nason went weeping on his way at 5:30. Mum and Dad went off to bed and I cleared some of the debris to the sound of screaming birds in the snow-covered trees. Then, as if empowered by some superior force, I grabbed my jacket, with the stuffed bird stitched to the shoulder, my Mark Phillips style flat cap, and bottle of 55p pomagne, and walked to Ivory Towers, about six miles away, for breakfast with Delia and Sarah.
(Now see the following entry)
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20171204
Wednesday May 2, 1979
_. Yes, to get back to David Steel. His father, the Venerable Enoch Steel, was Moderator of the General Assembly of the Church of Scotland, 1974-75. Margaret Thatcher's dad was a Lincolnshire grocer, and of course Jim Callaghan didn't have a father. Well, of course, he did have a father, but it seems that Mr Callaghan Snr, a naval man, had a woman in every port.
The Queen will be chewing on her royal finger nails today. Will it be Jim or Margaret? I suppose she'd like it to be dear old Alec [Douglas] Home tottering up the steps into the palace every Tuesday, or even Sir Harold [Wilson]. I believe she was quite fond of that pipe-smoking vagabond in the Gannex raincoat.
Sleet and snow again. December-type weather, in fact. Delia sent me a blue carnation to wear in my coat. Poor Sarah C's view of politics is that "they are all as bad as each other" but I'm sure she'd rather sleep with Max Bygraves than vote Labour. She'd also have David Steel castrated.
David G phoned. I suggested they come over on Saturday. Alison D will be here for the weekend because she is having an interview at Bradford Area Health Authority next Tuesday. So what looked like a tranquil weekend ahead is now developing into a full-scale orgy of booze and blondes. I'm not complaining though.
Dearest mother was in one of her foul, offensive, almost Mussolini-like tempers and I had little to do with her this evening. Mrs Thatcher isn't the only Iron Lady around here. Mother is more formidable than Leonid Brezhnev, Amy Carter, Lena Zavaroni, and President Tito all put together.
To bed at 11:50pm. Dad is going to wake me at 6am because I want to be the first in out polling station. Hip Hip.
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The Queen will be chewing on her royal finger nails today. Will it be Jim or Margaret? I suppose she'd like it to be dear old Alec [Douglas] Home tottering up the steps into the palace every Tuesday, or even Sir Harold [Wilson]. I believe she was quite fond of that pipe-smoking vagabond in the Gannex raincoat.
Sleet and snow again. December-type weather, in fact. Delia sent me a blue carnation to wear in my coat. Poor Sarah C's view of politics is that "they are all as bad as each other" but I'm sure she'd rather sleep with Max Bygraves than vote Labour. She'd also have David Steel castrated.
David G phoned. I suggested they come over on Saturday. Alison D will be here for the weekend because she is having an interview at Bradford Area Health Authority next Tuesday. So what looked like a tranquil weekend ahead is now developing into a full-scale orgy of booze and blondes. I'm not complaining though.
Dearest mother was in one of her foul, offensive, almost Mussolini-like tempers and I had little to do with her this evening. Mrs Thatcher isn't the only Iron Lady around here. Mother is more formidable than Leonid Brezhnev, Amy Carter, Lena Zavaroni, and President Tito all put together.
To bed at 11:50pm. Dad is going to wake me at 6am because I want to be the first in out polling station. Hip Hip.
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Tuesday May 1, 1979
_. It snowed today, and was generally cold. Happy May Day to you all. More election banter on the tv this evening. An interesting debate chaired by Robin Day between Michael Heseltine, Michael Foot and the late Jo Grimond. It was entertaining to say the least. Mr Foot was glowing with embarrassment and cowering at Michael Heseltine's questioning. Labour is so obviously terrified by the union movement. Even Grimond likened the trade unions to the great landlords of the 19th century, and this brought much applause from the audience. Labour cannot hide from the fact that it has abdicated its authority and passed over the mantle of governing to Moss Evans and the heavy boys at the AUEW, or wherever he hangs out. The TUC is undoubtedly the 'red mafia' in our society, and when the Tories have hammered them all into the ground I feel sure we'll be much better off. I feel positive that the country requires a firm swing to the right on Thursday enabling Mrs Thatcher to lead a full strength government, and not reliant on Liberal support. Another 'hung' parliament would be tragic and a Labour government doesn't bear thinking about. Jim Callaghan would be so smug and bouncy. I'm afraid I couldn't stand it. The polls say it is neck and neck, but I feel in my blue bones that Thatcher will come out on top. Ah well, that's enough politics for one day.
Sue and Pete went out for an Indian and returned at 10:30 breathing fumes all over us. For a racist he does very well in these multi-racial eating joints.
Just Mum, Dad and I at home all night. Took to my bed at 11:53pm. Looked at my Who's Who 1976. Did you know that David Steel's dad was a 'Very Reverend'?
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Sue and Pete went out for an Indian and returned at 10:30 breathing fumes all over us. For a racist he does very well in these multi-racial eating joints.
Just Mum, Dad and I at home all night. Took to my bed at 11:53pm. Looked at my Who's Who 1976. Did you know that David Steel's dad was a 'Very Reverend'?
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Monday April 30, 1979
_. Denise sent me the holiday bill which has to be paid by May 13. A further £162.73 is required, and this means we will have paid £182.73 for what was advertised as a £156 holiday. They have a nerve, don't they? And let's not forget, this is only bed and so-called breakfast. You can't call a hard bread roll and a spoonful of green marmalade a breakfast can you?
Rang Dave G with the dreadful news. He was undisturbed by it, and we joked about the Bournemouth trip. At least he is on speaking terms with Neil again. Peter N came up late, at 9:20, and he brought with him a bottle of Harvey's Bristol Cream sherry and some cans of lager, and fish and chips. Where has he found the cash? Peter Nason is Guiseley's answer to the Duke of Westminster.
Watched a programme about Margaret Thatcher on the BBC. She is really coming over brilliantly in this campaign and her message is put over with force and conviction. Which is more than can be said of the Ayatollah Callaghan. He has made an astonishing attack on poor Edward Heath, and the only reason why I think he has done this is that he is suffering from the delusion that Mr Heath is still the leader of the Tory Party. Why attack Edward Heath?
Bed at 1:15am after discussing the National Front with Papa.
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Rang Dave G with the dreadful news. He was undisturbed by it, and we joked about the Bournemouth trip. At least he is on speaking terms with Neil again. Peter N came up late, at 9:20, and he brought with him a bottle of Harvey's Bristol Cream sherry and some cans of lager, and fish and chips. Where has he found the cash? Peter Nason is Guiseley's answer to the Duke of Westminster.
Watched a programme about Margaret Thatcher on the BBC. She is really coming over brilliantly in this campaign and her message is put over with force and conviction. Which is more than can be said of the Ayatollah Callaghan. He has made an astonishing attack on poor Edward Heath, and the only reason why I think he has done this is that he is suffering from the delusion that Mr Heath is still the leader of the Tory Party. Why attack Edward Heath?
Bed at 1:15am after discussing the National Front with Papa.
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Sunday April 29, 1979
_. Felt dull and nauseous for most of the day. Only my dinner at 6:30pm restored me to normality.
Dad and Jim were once again sprawled under the car and Jim remained to dinner. So did Peter N.
Bing Crosby on the telly this afternoon and Marilyn Monroe tonight. I can see from the movie why she actually killed herself. __________.
Laughed at Auberon Waugh, who is standing on Thursday in Jeremy Thorpe's constituency, for, I think, the Dog Lovers' Party. The ghastly Jeremy doesn't see the funny side of this for some reason. To bed after 12, Read 'The Corps of the Royal Military Police' by Crozier. Don't worry, I'm not thinking of joining.
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Dad and Jim were once again sprawled under the car and Jim remained to dinner. So did Peter N.
Bing Crosby on the telly this afternoon and Marilyn Monroe tonight. I can see from the movie why she actually killed herself. __________.
Laughed at Auberon Waugh, who is standing on Thursday in Jeremy Thorpe's constituency, for, I think, the Dog Lovers' Party. The ghastly Jeremy doesn't see the funny side of this for some reason. To bed after 12, Read 'The Corps of the Royal Military Police' by Crozier. Don't worry, I'm not thinking of joining.
-=-
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