Monday May 26, 1980

_.Carole P is three months pregnant by Mick L. She is in poor health, and I am told that she and Mick are unwilling to enter into Holy Matrimony and are happy to let things go on as they are. She was in the White Cross on Friday. Poor Carole.

Rang Glynnie to give him the news about his Ibiza holiday bill. He wasn't expecting £269. Neither were we.

With Ally to West End Terrace for a couple of hours. Saw Pete's grandmother, old Mrs Nason, who is well over 80. She's a sweet old thing with a great wit and sense of humour.

To the YP at 5pm. Home by taxi at midnight. My driver pulled heavily on his pipe. Sat choking in fumes from the old shag, or ready rubbed, or whatever.

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Sunday May 25, 1980

_. Whit Sunday

We set off for Dumfries which we reached at about 6am, very low on fuel. On to Castle Douglas where we ran out of petrol and we sat until 9:30 waiting for a garage to open. John was very calm about this in the way he is always calm about everything, and he showed us the early morning sights of Castle Douglas, a God forsaken Scottish hamlet.

We couldn't sit in the van for any length of time because Jimmy's bowels 'were playing up' and the wind blew with gusto, the sound of which must have disturbed the sleepy community from its slumbers. Re-fuelled and supplied with eggs, bacon and milk we headed for Lochans in pouring rain arriving at Lochans at 10:30am. With the piano and bath unloaded we made for the pub, but not before John had run around on a wet football pitch. He plays for the Lochans team.

The cottage is a masterpiece. His fireplace is breath taking. We set off in an homeward direction at 1:30, calling at Glenluce, Newton Stewart, Dumfries and Annan. John was feeling decidedly rough. Jimmy insisted on eating mutton pies and we drank greasy, milky tea in a cafe. At Dumfries we slept in the van and became a peep show for the amusement of Scottish trippers. John made a recovery, and we journeyed on. The 24 hour adventure had been gruelling, but amusing. The fuel was low [again] and we reached Skipton and then onto Burley intact. We had a drink at the Malt Shovel and then went to Ridgeway to see Maria and Karim. We had beef burgers and beans and then I returned to Pine Tops.

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Saturday May 24, 1980

_. John walked in at 9:30am with JPH and Catherine. My brother is shaggy and bearded looking more Scottish than James Robertson Justice [was he a Scot?] or maybe Robert the Bruce. The children were hot, red and ill. John, fatter, disappeared in the direction of town with Maria and returned later in the afternoon with a van for the forthcoming piano and bathroom suite expedition. I asked to accompany him to Lochans and he beamed. Jimmy is joining us too.

Ally came over and we went to West End Terrace for the duration. She was very sweet about me leaving her tonight. Blimey, when did John and I last have an adventure together? Collected a cooker for Sue and Pete and then went to Ridgeway. Said goodbye to Ally at the Shoulder of Mutton and then John, Jimmy and I left for Stranraer. We made the error of stopping in Ilkley 'for a drink' and subsequently John was exhausted and only just managed to make it over the border without collapsing at the wheel. We had tea and sandwiches in a dreadful border cafe followed by a unanimous decision that we park up for a few hours because while chatting with Jimmy about UFOs and Christopher Marlowe I took a glance at John and was horror-struck to see he, the driver, with his eyes closed at the steering wheel. Sitting in a lay by I drifted off to sleep listening to Jimmy droning on and on expounding his belief that Shakespeare never actually existed. After a couple of hours we set off again for Stranraer.

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Friday May 23, 1980

_. Delia phoned me this morning to chastise me for my debauched behaviour in recent times. She says, and quite rightly, that I am overdoing things. She also confided in me that Sarah returns home from work these days saying she finds nothing to speak to me about any more and that I am impossible. How peculiar. The tales of Bill North are vomit provoking.

At 6pm Sue and Pete took possession of 23, West End Terrace, Guiseley, and within minutes a gathering of clan occurred with champagne [courtesy of Mama], to commemorate the historic acquisition. Looking around the property I felt panic at the sight of the scruffy decor, cringing at the prospect of been called upon to assist with renovations. Lynn, Dave, Sue, Pete and I adjourned to the White Cross. Joined by Chippy and Debbie.

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Thursday May 22, 1980

_. Felt ghastly all day and incapable of work. Sarah gave we woeful looks as I sat quivering and heaving like a cholera victim, or the Rt Rev William Gordon Fallows, Bishop of Sheffield [deceased], a Parkinson's sufferer. Fortunately Kathleen left at 12 thereby enabling me to do sweet sod all in the afternoon.

To Club Street at 5 for a hurried dinner with Ally and then it was back to Leeds to the Lounge Cinema at Headingley for 'Heaven Can Wait', a Warren Beatty film, and 'Smokey and the Bandit', starring Burt Reynolds. I'd seen the first film before, with Jacq, and Ally was surprised I wanted to see it again 'not a Michael film at all' was her verdict. I do have a soft spot for Dyan Cannon, and do have a small amount of romance in me.

Back to Pine Tops at 11 for drinks with Jim and Margaret. I slept extremely well.  Nisi quando Podagra molesta est.

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Wednesday May 21, 1980

_> Ally is 22 today. Dry day. We met at 12 and partook in alcoholic beverages at [1] The Ostlers, [2] Russell's Bar, and [3] Jacomelli's, Boar Lane. Afterwards she went skipping into a shop and bought two dresses. Walking hand in hand through town we bumped into Sarah.

We went back to Club Street with a couple of singles, gifts from me. 'Stomp' by the Brothers Johnson, and 'Funky Town' by Lipps Inc, the twelve inch disco single. She bathed. We went to Guiseley, where I did a quick change, and then on we went to Lynn & Dave's [with Sue & Pete] for chicken. Afterwards to the Queen's [Lynn's favourite Burley pub]. Ally and I went to Oakwood, just the two of us, from 10:30 to 1:45.

Back and Pine Tops we ate fish cakes in my bed.

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Tuesday May 20, 1980

_. Rain. To work in an overcoat. How utterly miserable. Jim says that Patrick ventured out for the very first time on his own, yesterday. [Well, except for the time last week when he walked into Guiseley to collect a prescription for Muriel's bowel ailment]. The lad went with a few friends to Cambridge where he had 'an experience' in a punt and missed the last train home.

King Henry VIII married Jane Seymour upon this day in 1536. Was she his favourite Queen? I think so. I rang my favourite future queen at the Bradford AHA and engaged in a complex and confused conversation centred upon the trivialities of this world that I've generally allowed to pass me by. Tomorrow is her birthday. Bless her, she'll be 22. We are spending the afternoon in Leeds and going on to Lynn and Dave's for dinner. What time was she born? Her mother cannot remember and so this vital item of information is lost forever. Astrologically, it's a terrible omission.

At lunchtime I went into the Central library and took out a volume of diaries of the Rev William Bagshaw Stevens, who kept a journal from 1792 until his death  in 1800 at the age of 45. I do hope one day that someone somewhere will have the good sense to set my journal down in print. I'm not writing crouched uncomfortably on my bedroom floor for the good of my health, you know. Mind you, I hold, and never shall hold, a government post, or be headmaster of Repton, but surely someone will derive pleasure from my illiterate, abusive ramblings? Tonight I sat reading the clergyman's journal which is crammed with Latin and Greek quotes, and little else. Some entries are so brief, they're worthless. I feel quite proud of myself turning out page after page of action-packed riveting script. Goodnight. Magno cum conatu magnas nugas dicit. Caw! Caw! Caw!.

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Monday May 19, 1980

_. Royal news: The Queen's cousin, the Hon Elizabeth Elphinstone, has died aged 68. Something of a recluse she lived for some years on a commune. The Queen, not plunged into family mourning, today visited the Chelsea Flower Show.

In other royal news, the Lord Mayor of York is to petition the Queen to create Prince Andrew Duke of York. I have every faith the the Queen will one day bestow this much loved peerage on her second son, and doesn't need to be reminded of this by some upstart of a Lord Mayor. King George VI held the title for 16 years, and it 'merged in the crown' on the abdication of King Edward VIII in 1936.

The Times today says that the Queen will invite the Pope to make a visit to the UK when she visits him in Rome in October. Hard to believe, isn't it? For centuries we officially boycotted all things papist. Talk of the Prince of Wales marrying a Roman Catholic will be re-kindled, no doubt.

Charles's old flame, Lady Sarah Spencer, married Neil McCorquodale on Saturday. That's another name to cross off the list. The girl has red hair and that, as far as I'm concerned, is far more objectionable than any religious differences. Given the choice of the next Princess of Wales being RC or a red head, and I'll go for the former any day.

A film on the telly. A Burt Lancaster western in which Audrey Hepburn plays a Red Indian squaw rather badly. And so to bed, at midnight.

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Sunday May 18, 1980

_. Sunday after Ascension

Woke up at 8am to swig lemonade. The sleeping arrangements were fun. Ally and I in one single bed, Sue and Pete in the other single bed, Jill and Tim in the double bed, and four more, Karen, Steve, Phil and Denise underneath the piano. We all surfaced at 10 for tea and toast and a photographic session in the garden. Ally went off to work at the Belfry at 10:30, and we tidied things and returned home.

I had poached eggs then took the garden in my shorts where I hung in a deckchair until evening. Marlene, Frank and the children appeared at tea time with the intention of showing us his cine film of Lynn & Dave's wedding, but a bulb exploded in his projector and the plan was thwarted.

Ally arrived at 3:30 in a blue spotty dress. She was far from disappointed at the lack of a film show. She has a peculiar phobia about anything celluloid. Capturing Ally on film is as rare as a shot of an osprey nesting or of Margaret Thatcher picking her nose. The Harwoods went off at 8 towing their caravan behind them, and were replaced by Hilda and Tony. By 11 I could stand no more and took to my bed.

World news from the Sunday papers: President Giscard D'Estaing and Leonid Brezhnev are meeting in Warsaw to discuss Afghanistan and other international affairs. No doubt the Russian leader has taken along his usual squad of randy air hostesses - he has a passion for them according to a recent report.

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Saturday May 17, 1980

_. Steve Sanderson is 22 today. Up at 10 and straight to Ally's for 11:30. She was scantily clad, and cleaning the house for tonight's 'gala'. I spent over two hours taping a heap of my records and at 1:30 we drove to Halifax, of all places, for a quick drink. We found a pub full of drunks and I found myself standing at the bar next to a little old man propped up farting and belching at a phenomenal rate. Ally was amazed that she now lives so close to Halifax. She kept repeating the name over and over again, almost under her breath, as though she'd just stumbled upon Naples.

At 5:15 we drove to Headingley and the delights of Salvo's. Joined by Sue, Pete, Chippy, Dave W, Frank, Mick Hodgson, Tony Smith, Gus, we queued outside until 7. We ate too much, and sat in the car groaning. We drank half a litre of wine each and made one Hell of a racket. The bill came to £48. Oh dear. On to Mucky Willie's in Lidget Green where we were met by Dave L, Karen, Steve, Jill, Tim, Phil, Denise, Jacq, Paul, Catherine [from the AHA], & her boyfriend, Dave. I felt very uncomfortable after all that food. Dave L suggested I drink something with peppermint. This did help. A party at Club St afterwards. Lynn and Dave came at midnight. I told Dave I'd paid Lynn £15 for her attendance, and he believed me. Everyone danced.

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Friday May 16, 1980

_. Hot and sunny. Dave L phoned tonight. He cannot make Salvo's tomorrow but says yes to the party afterwards.

A significant event at the YP. Eileen's departure. I showed her to the revolving door and waved her goodbye. Standing in the sunshine the tears soon dried  on my pale, haggard face as I watched her, broken with emotion, disappear onto a bus bound for Dewsbury and the obscurity of motherhood. Sarah had avoided the office today. She hates goodbyes.

Steak and salad for tea, interrupted by the arrival of my Harwood cousins. Mark is now almost 13. Frank says he is going down to the Shoulder tonight with some fellow male campers [they are spending a few days in a caravan in a farmyard in Hawksworth]. Sue and Pete decided to accompany them, but I declined.

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