Wednesday September 19, 1979

_. Warm day. Sat in the garden with Mama and Adolf Hitler.

To the YP at 5. Just Gilberto and I. ______. Made my exit dead on 12 and made my way home with a most knowledgeable taxi driver. He went on and on about Cambodia and the dreadful regime of Pol Pot. He explained the history of the Khmer Rouge Republic and life of Prince Norodom Sihanouk.
Yawn.

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Tuesday September 18, 1979

_. Hectic day at the YP. Sarah is ill now. ______. Home at 4:30 on the bus with the new EP reporter, Hopkiss or Hopkins. He's only 19 and makes me feel quite elderly. He says he is allergic to alcohol, which makes me laugh behind my newspaper. A reporter with an allergy to alcohol is like a prostitute who is allergic to sex.

Dad announces that he is now on the 'Ripper Case' for three days a week. The fiend doesn't stand a chance now. It will all be over by Christmas. I cannot imagine that the mass murderer is a Guiseley chap. Mum was horror-struck when I suggested that it might be advantageous for Dad if the murderer kept his head down for three years until Dad retires. Wouldn't it be a doddle? Nobody found this remotely amusing.

JPH came for dinner, and is slightly better than yesterday. As he left, the child said: "See you, Shortie."  Such a witty child.

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Monday September 17, 1979

_.The YP was hell. Just Carol and I in all day. ______. I'm reading John Toland's Adolf Hitler again. John and Maria bought it for me ages ago but I only read a hundred pages. So tonight I battled on with it. September is my intellectual month.

At tea time I found Maria and the babies with mother. JPH has a temperature and is glowing.

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Sunday September 16, 1979

_. Up at 10 to mix cement again. Quite hungover. The brickies have now completed the footings of the kitchen extension. Lynn and Susan spent the morning scrubbing the interior of the caravan when it didn't really need it. The usual bacon sandwiches and soup was laid on. The whole atmosphere resembled war-torn Britain with everyone pulling together in comradeship and facing the hardship and toil together and without division. _______.

Rain came in the afternoon and we retreated to the caravan and an Erroll Flynn film on the telly. John was looking dejected at the thought of our imminent departure, and a silence fell. David had a sleep in the afternoon in preparation for the journey home. _______. we arrived home at 9, after having fish and chips in Grassington. Mum and Dad were strangely quiet. Dad has been a policeman for 22 years today, and is to receive a medal for long service.

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Saturday September 15, 1979

_. A warm, sunny day. Up at 9 to find John and Dave mixing cement among the heap of building bricks and sand. The two bricklayers are performing miracles around some windows at the rear of the cottage, and for a couple of hours I was put to work with a shovel and a plastic bucket containing soapy water. [Yes, soapy because the cement requires the elasticity that the Fairy liquid provides, apparently.] I'm horrified by the way the bricklayers treat their humble labourers.

Lynn took Ally and Sue in the mini to Stranraer to do some shopping but by 12 they were back. We went to a pub in Lochans for a drink and for me to wash away the cement from my tonsils. Ally was dumbfounded by the local accent and sat open mouthed. Lynn was from being at ease in the company of bricklayers and she took us off to Port Patrick where we sat in the sun with our drinks fighting off swarms of wasps. They must have taken a fancy to Lynn's Pernod. Things got so bad we retreated indoors. Afterwards we ate cheeseburgers and laid on the rocks. We went back to Lochans at 3:30. Riddled with guilt I took up a wheelbarrow and helped out for a couple more hours. The girls, in the caravan, concocted a dinner, which we sat down to at 6:30.

John really is loving our company. He must be very lonely up here. __________.

Just two pubs tonight: the Coachman's in Stranraer, really noisy, and a pub in Lochans - very rough. John was surrounded by young girls from the village. Being an Englishman he will be in great demand. The Scots are very plain and unattractive. Half of them look like Elvis Presley in his final years, and the other half resemble Presley in a state of decay two years after his demise. However, the Scots in Stranraer are more like the Irish, because of the vicinity. My last round in the pub cost me £4.50. Susan, at one point, had five measures of rum in her glass. Afterwards Ally and I sat outside in the spitfire talking about ourselves again. I said the YP would eventually be the death of me. We even discussed staying in Scotland when the others go home. Drink talking. ________.

Back to the caravan at 12 for more food. John emptied his pantry of all edibles. We all fell about in a drunken fashion, except Lynn who tuned into the BBC to watch 'The Picture of Dorian Gray'

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Friday September 14, 1979

_. Grotesque hangover, and close to death. Caught sight of myself in a mirror in the gents at the YP. Frightening. The years of dissipation have taken their toll. I look like a cross between President Carter and Gloria Swanson. I really should quieten down. I could end up like Richard Burton.

I stumbled upon Christine's phone number [mislaid in July]. Rang her at 3. She married on August 18 and is now studying at night school for a degree in administration to enable her to go with Frank to the United States. She turned down my offer to go out for a lunchtime drink, saying Frank would 'hate that sort of thing' and would 'sulk for hours' if he got wind of it. Blimey, it's not as though we'd be committing adultery. However, she seems very happy and full of her old exuberance.

Out to the Central Station with Jacq. Hair of the dog, and all that. We laughed a good deal.

At 6 Ally came over and we went with Susan to Burley-in-W, and loaded her into Dave's car for our journey to Stranraer. We had a couple of drinks in Kirby Lonsdale, and then motored up that long, dark road. Poor Ally was dead to the world. Arrived at Corner House Cottage at 1am. John so pleased to see us, looking thinner. Bed at 3am.

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Thursday September 13, 1979

_. Ally and I went out on the booze [again]. First to the Rose & Crown, then the Cow & Calf, and finally the White Horse in Bingley. Afterwards we ventured to Oakwood Hall. Very drunk. Consequently we became serious and nostalgic. Most odd, because we are seldom serious about anything. we spoke about poor Carole P, and John Pinder. Saw Peter, Frank, Gus and Chippy.______.
Chippy on the dance floor is like Lionel Blair. We are told that Peter and Chippy are heading off to Paris on Saturday for five or six days. Susan has taken this extraordinarily well.

Bed at 4:30 after heading back to Pine Tops.

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Tuesday September 11, 1979

_. Busy day at the YP. The Brabournes have left Ireland and are now in London hospitals. The new Countess Mountbatten is in the eye hospital, and Lord Brabourne is at the King Edward VII Hospital for Officers. Timothy Knatchbull remains in Sligo at Mullaghmore. Broadlands opens again to the public tomorrow.

Phoned Ally. She spent the day in Harrogate yesterday with Graham and Charlotte [Smith]. _______.

Ally isn't eating. She asked me to join her tonight, but I simply cannot. I am already minus 30p and I cannot afford the bus fare into Bradford. So, it's no meeting until Thursday.

Do nothing this evening. The BBC has produced a series entitled 'Prince Regent' - but it fails to impress. Was George IV really as affected as Bill North?

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Wednesday September 12, 1979

_. Mama got me out of bed at 10 because I had instructed her to do so. After toast and marmalade I took up an axe, a saw and a spade and headed for the garden where I executed a boring, dominating willow tree [not of the weeping variety]. I received quite a few blisters for my labours and was sweating like an Olympic marathon runner. The root was a bugger and refused to give in, but neither did I, and the human element won. We humans are much more intelligent than trees..... Or are we?
Do trees blow one another to pieces in Ireland? Do grown up trees batter their saplings until they are unrecognisable? Do trees drop atomic bombs on Japan? But on the other hand did the horse chestnut tree paint 'The Last Supper' or did a Scots pine invent the electric light?

Dave L phoned again. He asks me to get him a ticket for Marita to see Dame Edna in Leeds on November 27. It's going to cost me £3 on Thursday but I do suppose Dave will cough up with the money when I see him next. I haven't seen Marita for months.

To the YP at 4:30. Kathleen had been on her own all afternoon because Carol J and Sarah were at a YP Literary luncheon. Little Gilberto from Chile is a good lad really. Kathleen insists on calling him 'Al' for some reason. His name is Gilberto. Wendy disappeared at nine for a liaison with her boyfriend and I got the bus home at 10.

Took to my bed at 11:30 and could not decide what to read.  Blimey, it was windy outside.

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Monday September 10, 1979

_.Frantic day at the office. Just Carol J and I in. Carol never exerts herself. Eileen is in hospital having a lump removed. ____.

 In the columns of the Daily Telegraph I see a poignant piece of news which nobody else will have noticed. The infant son of the Duke and Duchess of Abercorn was baptised yesterday with the names Nicholas Edward Claud. The duchess is a god-daughter and kinswoman of the late Lord Mountbatten, and we of course know that the late earl had Nicholas among his Christian names, after his own godfather Tsar Nicholas II. And of course Mountbatten's grandson, murdered with him last month, was Nicholas Knatchbull.

Maria , JPH and Catherine came this evening. The baby has changed since I last saw her and is obviously thriving. Her hair is slightly rust coloured. Doctors say her heart is healing naturally,  and by next month she will be quite normal and free from her condition. John, in Scotland, phoned Maria here.

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Sunday September 9, 1979

13th Sunday after Trinity.

David Lawson phoned recently, but I forgot to record it here. He asked when Christine is getting married! I had to tell him, with heavy heart, that the nuptials took place two weeks ago. The Lawsons now have some kind of Setter so I presume, without mentioning it, that Toscanini, the poodle, is no longer with us. Gone to that great kennel in the sky, &c. The poor lad is dog sitting and mopping up piss night after night.

Got up at 12. Ally came down to breakfast in not a pleasant frame of mind. After her toast and marmalade she left for Bradford saying: "see you next Friday, then". _________________.

I sat pasting Mama's photos into an album and watched 'Horatio Hornblower, RN' on the BBC. A black and white film shot in the thirteenth century BC. The heroine on the film [Gregory Peck's tart]  was supposed to be Lady Barbara Wellesley, sister of the Duke of Wellington. The duke's sister wasn't Barbara, she was Anne, who married a son of Lord Southampton.

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