_. Spent all day and most of the evening daubing biege paint on the kitchen ceiling at West End Terrace. No time for much else these days. Sue is tired and pale, and I'm sorry to say Pete is becoming something of a megalomaniac driving his workforce. However, it is falling into place. The predominant hue is brown.
Graham and Charlotte Smith are coming to stay with Ally from Thursday until Sunday because Graham is attending a conference at Harrogate, and isn't prepared to fork out for hotel bills. Ally broke this news to me with great care fully expecting an outcry of indignation. In fact I have taken it very well, and have agreed to join them for the 'festivities'. I was hoping to only spend a tiny amout of cash at the weekend because of the forthcoming stag night, the 21st birthday, the wedding, and the holiday.
-=-
20200530
Sunday July 6, 1980
_. 5th Sunday after Trinity
Up at 9. Eggs on toast with Ally before she left for the Belfry at Bolton Junction [why do I insist on telling you where the Belfry is?]. Mum has a bad stomach and claims it's a chill that's been creeping up on her all week. She spent the day incarcerated in bed.
The Sunday Express has another article re the Prince of Wales and Princess Marie-Astrid of Luxembourg. All stuff and nonsense.
I sat watching TV all afternoon and my entertainment included a diabolical, yet entertaining, 1962 epic entitled 'The 300 Spartans'. Ludicrous dialogue. Dad joined me and we giggled from our armchairs.
Sue and Pete appeared in the evening for a subdued dinner. Mama was grumpy up in bed moaning that our 'squabbling' was upsetting her. Our 'squabbling' is a Sunday ritual where Susan witters on at me for not peeling the potatoes or laying the table.
We sat giggling again afterwards watching Frankie Howerd in 'Carry On Up the Jungle'.
-=-
Up at 9. Eggs on toast with Ally before she left for the Belfry at Bolton Junction [why do I insist on telling you where the Belfry is?]. Mum has a bad stomach and claims it's a chill that's been creeping up on her all week. She spent the day incarcerated in bed.
The Sunday Express has another article re the Prince of Wales and Princess Marie-Astrid of Luxembourg. All stuff and nonsense.
I sat watching TV all afternoon and my entertainment included a diabolical, yet entertaining, 1962 epic entitled 'The 300 Spartans'. Ludicrous dialogue. Dad joined me and we giggled from our armchairs.
Sue and Pete appeared in the evening for a subdued dinner. Mama was grumpy up in bed moaning that our 'squabbling' was upsetting her. Our 'squabbling' is a Sunday ritual where Susan witters on at me for not peeling the potatoes or laying the table.
We sat giggling again afterwards watching Frankie Howerd in 'Carry On Up the Jungle'.
-=-
Saturday July 5, 1980
_. Up at 7. My earliest sighting of a Saturday in years. Busy morning at the YP. Just Carol and I running things. The only thing of importance in the news was a miserable explosion at Sherburn-in-Elmet. A reporter at the scene says a man was blown to pieces. Only his shoes were recognisable.
Home at 2. Mum and Dad were at West End Terrace all afternoon. I sat eating bacon and eggs watching Bjorn Borg v. McEnroe at Wimbledon on the BBC. Ally turned up with a bottle of Emva Cream. We watched the match together. Tennis, in normal circumstances, leaves me cold, but this match was gripping. The scruffy, narrow-eyed Swede won the title for the fourth year in succession. The workers returned from West End Terrace just in time for the climax.
Mum and Dad went to Cracoe at 8. Sue, Pete, Ally and I went to the White Cross to meet Chippy, Debbie and Dave W, and then on to to the Square and Compass. This place is a god send after the drab and deary WC and Shoulder. Joined by Ken, Olive and John Sumpton, hot from Paris, where he's been cultivating a head of hair. It's longer than Borg's. Slightly pissed back to Pine Tops where Mum was in bed with a headache, which cut short the evening. Cracoe had been crowned and seething, she said.
-=-
Home at 2. Mum and Dad were at West End Terrace all afternoon. I sat eating bacon and eggs watching Bjorn Borg v. McEnroe at Wimbledon on the BBC. Ally turned up with a bottle of Emva Cream. We watched the match together. Tennis, in normal circumstances, leaves me cold, but this match was gripping. The scruffy, narrow-eyed Swede won the title for the fourth year in succession. The workers returned from West End Terrace just in time for the climax.
Mum and Dad went to Cracoe at 8. Sue, Pete, Ally and I went to the White Cross to meet Chippy, Debbie and Dave W, and then on to to the Square and Compass. This place is a god send after the drab and deary WC and Shoulder. Joined by Ken, Olive and John Sumpton, hot from Paris, where he's been cultivating a head of hair. It's longer than Borg's. Slightly pissed back to Pine Tops where Mum was in bed with a headache, which cut short the evening. Cracoe had been crowned and seething, she said.
-=-
Friday July 4, 1980
_. Independence Day, USA
I went to the YP from Bradford arriving at 8:45. A sunny, blustery sort of day. Frank Metcalfe blames the bad June weather on the volcanic eruption at Mount St Helena. Evidently we had similar atrocious conditions in 1815, after a previous blast. All I know about 1815 is that it was a good year for Wellingtons...... [Waterloo]... Oh dear.
Happy Birthday to HRH Prince Michael of Kent who renounced his claim to a place in the order of succession to the throne in order to marry his stunning Roman Catholic Baroness. I am struck with horror, nay aghast, at the fact that she, Marie-Christine, can never be queen, whereas Patricia Countess of Harewood, an Aussie, and former shorthand typist with a previous husband still living, can.
Rang Ally. She too is working tomorrow afternoon. I left the office at 12. Back at home I had to climb up the rose trees and into my bedroom window because once again I'd forgotten my key. Mum and Dad came in at 2 and I went with Dad to hang wallpaper at West End Terrace. Ally came at 4, with newly permed hair, and Mama was with her looking dejected. They been in Otley together scouring the shops looking for an outfit for Mum to wear at the wedding. Tales of hideous Crimplene skirts at £108, and all that. Ally to the Belfry at 6.
Marlene, Frank, the children, and Auntie Mabel arrived for tea, bringing a wedding present for Sue and Pete.
--=-
I went to the YP from Bradford arriving at 8:45. A sunny, blustery sort of day. Frank Metcalfe blames the bad June weather on the volcanic eruption at Mount St Helena. Evidently we had similar atrocious conditions in 1815, after a previous blast. All I know about 1815 is that it was a good year for Wellingtons...... [Waterloo]... Oh dear.
Happy Birthday to HRH Prince Michael of Kent who renounced his claim to a place in the order of succession to the throne in order to marry his stunning Roman Catholic Baroness. I am struck with horror, nay aghast, at the fact that she, Marie-Christine, can never be queen, whereas Patricia Countess of Harewood, an Aussie, and former shorthand typist with a previous husband still living, can.
Rang Ally. She too is working tomorrow afternoon. I left the office at 12. Back at home I had to climb up the rose trees and into my bedroom window because once again I'd forgotten my key. Mum and Dad came in at 2 and I went with Dad to hang wallpaper at West End Terrace. Ally came at 4, with newly permed hair, and Mama was with her looking dejected. They been in Otley together scouring the shops looking for an outfit for Mum to wear at the wedding. Tales of hideous Crimplene skirts at £108, and all that. Ally to the Belfry at 6.
Marlene, Frank, the children, and Auntie Mabel arrived for tea, bringing a wedding present for Sue and Pete.
--=-
Thursday July 3, 1980
_. Sunny. I agreed to go to Ally's after work because she came into Leeds on business for Derek Jenkins, and timed her departure for Bradford with my departure from the YP.
Sarah has been 'flashed'. I paid my union subs. Still writhing with my conscience over NATSOPA. Shazza thinks I'll be signing my own death warrant if I tell the FOC where to get off.
Met Ally at 5. I can picture Bessie sitting, smiling, in her deckchair, saying: 'She's just like Frank's mother.' On to Lidget Green. Drank lager and blackcurrant juice and had some horrible fish and chips. Ally has a calendar hanging in the kitchen and I laughed at Tuesday's entry. The word 'swine', presumably written there because I went to Delia's for tea.
Out to the Bod and discussed the rapidly looming holiday, and the gripping subject of Sarah's hair colour. Then back to 'Rue Club' for the night. I do think that despite some minor disagreements we are very much one soul. A fiery chemistry of muddled emotions.
-=-
Sarah has been 'flashed'. I paid my union subs. Still writhing with my conscience over NATSOPA. Shazza thinks I'll be signing my own death warrant if I tell the FOC where to get off.
Met Ally at 5. I can picture Bessie sitting, smiling, in her deckchair, saying: 'She's just like Frank's mother.' On to Lidget Green. Drank lager and blackcurrant juice and had some horrible fish and chips. Ally has a calendar hanging in the kitchen and I laughed at Tuesday's entry. The word 'swine', presumably written there because I went to Delia's for tea.
Out to the Bod and discussed the rapidly looming holiday, and the gripping subject of Sarah's hair colour. Then back to 'Rue Club' for the night. I do think that despite some minor disagreements we are very much one soul. A fiery chemistry of muddled emotions.
-=-
20200529
Wednesday July 2, 1980
_. A dry day. Industrious day at the YP with my hard-working assistant, John, from Worsburgh, near Barnsley. Sarah left at lunchtime to get her hair flashed and I was left with Carol J, who was in a foul temper because ______ is reported to have worms, which she says is highly contagious. Thankfully, I am safe, and spared the ailment having gobbled down the Shih Tzu's pills. What a giggle.
Sarah thinks it unwise and deep folly that I should consider abandoning NATSOPA. My over time payments and night duty extras will suffer, and, she added, my job might be in jeopardy if redundancies are ever inflicted upon a hysterical YP work force. Those not in a trade union would be the first to face the chop. However, I want to stick to my guns and tell the whole bunch of them to piss off. It's out of character, it really is, that I should be a member of a trade union.
I got the 735 bus at 5, but it broke down and grinded to a halt outside Yeadon Town Hall, leaving me stranded. I decided to walk home down Queensway and onto Tennyson Street, and found it impossible to walk past the Lawson abode without calling on Dave L. Albert Lawson was watching Wimbledon, and Dave was out in the fields with Rowan, the Gordon Setter. He and Dave are going for a holiday to Ilfracombe, minus Audrey Lawson, still shacked up with her lover in Otley. Albert and I went out in search of David and found him in Nunroyd Park, knee deep in wet grass. The dog was rampant. He could obviously sense the Shih Tzu kidney pills. Albert drove me home.
Sue and Pete are recovering from Florence Nason's cremation. Sue wasn't too bereft.
Phoned Ally several times today. We are going out tomorrow.
Mama has installed a new TV set with remote controls. It can even pick up Tyne Tees, you know. We've had the old set since the day of the FA Cup Final in 1972, and so a change was long overdue.
We spent the night worshipping around the new gogglebox.
-=-
Sarah thinks it unwise and deep folly that I should consider abandoning NATSOPA. My over time payments and night duty extras will suffer, and, she added, my job might be in jeopardy if redundancies are ever inflicted upon a hysterical YP work force. Those not in a trade union would be the first to face the chop. However, I want to stick to my guns and tell the whole bunch of them to piss off. It's out of character, it really is, that I should be a member of a trade union.
I got the 735 bus at 5, but it broke down and grinded to a halt outside Yeadon Town Hall, leaving me stranded. I decided to walk home down Queensway and onto Tennyson Street, and found it impossible to walk past the Lawson abode without calling on Dave L. Albert Lawson was watching Wimbledon, and Dave was out in the fields with Rowan, the Gordon Setter. He and Dave are going for a holiday to Ilfracombe, minus Audrey Lawson, still shacked up with her lover in Otley. Albert and I went out in search of David and found him in Nunroyd Park, knee deep in wet grass. The dog was rampant. He could obviously sense the Shih Tzu kidney pills. Albert drove me home.
Sue and Pete are recovering from Florence Nason's cremation. Sue wasn't too bereft.
Phoned Ally several times today. We are going out tomorrow.
Mama has installed a new TV set with remote controls. It can even pick up Tyne Tees, you know. We've had the old set since the day of the FA Cup Final in 1972, and so a change was long overdue.
We spent the night worshipping around the new gogglebox.
-=-
Tuesday July 1, 1980
_. Dominion Day, Canada
Dismal, wet. Went to work in an overcoat, very over-dressed, but wanted to avoid the soaking. Spent the day with my nervous schoolboy assistant, who shook with fear behind the filing cabinets. He is however, an intelligent lad.
I phoned Lynn at about 11. She was packed and ready for her holiday. Mum and Dad took them to Yeadon and they flew to Gerona at 2:30. Lynn, was so nervous about flying, and this coupled with the recent atrocities committed by the down-trodden Basques, hasn't helped. Mum reports that the flight left on time, but hated saying goodbye. Mum cannot say goodbye, even for the shortest period, and blames the trauma of parting with Dad when he was called up for national service. Goodbye phobia, it must have a proper name.
I phoned Ally to remind her of my tea time date with Delia and she responded by calling me a 'creep', and asked me not to choke on what morsels of food are placed before me. At 4 Sarah and I met Delia in town and went to Ivory Towers for steak pie followed by strawberries with a lemon soufflé.
Sarah devoured handfuls of vitamin tablets before dining, and Delia gave me a handful, but after swallowing them down with a glass of water we decided that the little blue ones were in fact the Shih Tzu's kidney pills. We rolled around the kitchen in hysterics. What's more, Delia's been taking the pills on a daily basis for some days, and has been having nightmares, and breathless attacks. I fully expected to start barking. Sarah, I think did actually wet herself. Sure enough, the dog's vitamins and pills were there on the same shelf as Sarah's vitamins.
Delia went to St Chad's at Headingley and we accompanied her to the pounding in the car of the Hallé Orchestra's rendition of Ravel's 'Bolero'. Delia went into the church with heaps of flowers, and Sarah and I went to a local hostelry [The Three Horseshoes?] , which took us through until 10. Delia brought me home at 11.
To bed, perhaps not barking, but growling.
-=-
Dismal, wet. Went to work in an overcoat, very over-dressed, but wanted to avoid the soaking. Spent the day with my nervous schoolboy assistant, who shook with fear behind the filing cabinets. He is however, an intelligent lad.
I phoned Lynn at about 11. She was packed and ready for her holiday. Mum and Dad took them to Yeadon and they flew to Gerona at 2:30. Lynn, was so nervous about flying, and this coupled with the recent atrocities committed by the down-trodden Basques, hasn't helped. Mum reports that the flight left on time, but hated saying goodbye. Mum cannot say goodbye, even for the shortest period, and blames the trauma of parting with Dad when he was called up for national service. Goodbye phobia, it must have a proper name.
I phoned Ally to remind her of my tea time date with Delia and she responded by calling me a 'creep', and asked me not to choke on what morsels of food are placed before me. At 4 Sarah and I met Delia in town and went to Ivory Towers for steak pie followed by strawberries with a lemon soufflé.
Sarah devoured handfuls of vitamin tablets before dining, and Delia gave me a handful, but after swallowing them down with a glass of water we decided that the little blue ones were in fact the Shih Tzu's kidney pills. We rolled around the kitchen in hysterics. What's more, Delia's been taking the pills on a daily basis for some days, and has been having nightmares, and breathless attacks. I fully expected to start barking. Sarah, I think did actually wet herself. Sure enough, the dog's vitamins and pills were there on the same shelf as Sarah's vitamins.
Delia went to St Chad's at Headingley and we accompanied her to the pounding in the car of the Hallé Orchestra's rendition of Ravel's 'Bolero'. Delia went into the church with heaps of flowers, and Sarah and I went to a local hostelry [The Three Horseshoes?] , which took us through until 10. Delia brought me home at 11.
To bed, perhaps not barking, but growling.
-=-
Monday June 30, 1980
_. Need I say it rained again? An efficient day. Joined by a temporary worker, a schoolboy called John, who relieved me of my menial tasks.
Home like a drowned ferret at 6. Went to West End Terrace with Dad, Sue and Pete. Grandma Nason's funeral is fixed for Wednesday. It will be Susan's first. I have resolved to donate my body to a local necrophiliac group on my demise. Kidney donor cards, and such like, hold little appeal for me. To carry one must surely tempt fate. Alison doesn't believe in fate.
I phoned Ally at 2 but Derek Jenkins was in the middle of dictating a letter to her and so I left in a hurry and didn't speak to her again.
-=-
Home like a drowned ferret at 6. Went to West End Terrace with Dad, Sue and Pete. Grandma Nason's funeral is fixed for Wednesday. It will be Susan's first. I have resolved to donate my body to a local necrophiliac group on my demise. Kidney donor cards, and such like, hold little appeal for me. To carry one must surely tempt fate. Alison doesn't believe in fate.
I phoned Ally at 2 but Derek Jenkins was in the middle of dictating a letter to her and so I left in a hurry and didn't speak to her again.
-=-
Sunday June 29, 1980
_.4th Sunday after Trinity
Dull, rain. Sue and Pete came in at 12 with the sad news that Pete's grandmother, Florence Nason, died this morning from a heart attack. She was 82, and so looking forward to the wedding. Poor Jim is heartbroken, of course.
Maria and the children came this afternoon and created pandemonium. JPH has a temper. I blame the Celtic blood. Lynn, Dave and Ally came to dinner at 8. Roast beef, Yorkshire puddings, strawberries and cream, wine. Everybody looked shattered. Catherine is still very tiny, with glassy china-blue eyes.
Lynn and Dave left at about 11 with a pile of my shirts, for the Spanish holiday. I cannot help thinking that she isn't looking forward to it. She was very subdued about the whole thing. The Basques are bombing holiday resorts, and despite what I said the other day about plane crashes never coming in pairs, a DC10 has gone down, this time in the sea off Italy.
-=-
Maria and the children came this afternoon and created pandemonium. JPH has a temper. I blame the Celtic blood. Lynn, Dave and Ally came to dinner at 8. Roast beef, Yorkshire puddings, strawberries and cream, wine. Everybody looked shattered. Catherine is still very tiny, with glassy china-blue eyes.
Lynn and Dave left at about 11 with a pile of my shirts, for the Spanish holiday. I cannot help thinking that she isn't looking forward to it. She was very subdued about the whole thing. The Basques are bombing holiday resorts, and despite what I said the other day about plane crashes never coming in pairs, a DC10 has gone down, this time in the sea off Italy.
-=-
20200528
Saturday June 28, 1980
_. Torrential rain at times. I have decided to build a new ark, just as soon as I can lay hands on some good quality teak.
Slept until nearly 12. Chippy's 22nd birthday.
Chippy phoned. He and and Dave W want to visit the tailor to be fitted for suits for Sue and Pete's wedding. I agreed to accompany them. To the White Cross, then Charles the tailor, the New Inn, then the Crown at Yeadon. We ate bits of pizza, then went to Chippy's. Played music [loud], and then returned home, pissed.
Maria drove round from Ridgeway, with a nanny, and JPH. The little lad is now very 'leggy', and wearing the same green cardigan he always wears. No sign of my brother, who is alone in Scotland.
Ally came at 8 and out we went with Sue, Pete, Chippy, Debbie and Dave W to the Square & Compass [again] - a firm favourite now. We decided to drop our first names for the night and only use the second name, and be penalised for forgetting. Dave W was Graham, Chippy was David, I was Lawrie, Pete was James, Ally was Mary, Debbie was Anne, and Sue, having no middle name, chose Claire.
On at 11 to the Prachee for a hot curry and cold water. £4 each - not bad. On to Chippy's, I mean Dave's, where we listened to music. When we mentioned to Chippy, sorry Dave, that Ally, I mean Mary, sleeps all day he responded 'Oh, she's schizophrenic'. He should know, he is a mental nurse at the local asylum.
-=-
Slept until nearly 12. Chippy's 22nd birthday.
Chippy phoned. He and and Dave W want to visit the tailor to be fitted for suits for Sue and Pete's wedding. I agreed to accompany them. To the White Cross, then Charles the tailor, the New Inn, then the Crown at Yeadon. We ate bits of pizza, then went to Chippy's. Played music [loud], and then returned home, pissed.
Maria drove round from Ridgeway, with a nanny, and JPH. The little lad is now very 'leggy', and wearing the same green cardigan he always wears. No sign of my brother, who is alone in Scotland.
Ally came at 8 and out we went with Sue, Pete, Chippy, Debbie and Dave W to the Square & Compass [again] - a firm favourite now. We decided to drop our first names for the night and only use the second name, and be penalised for forgetting. Dave W was Graham, Chippy was David, I was Lawrie, Pete was James, Ally was Mary, Debbie was Anne, and Sue, having no middle name, chose Claire.
On at 11 to the Prachee for a hot curry and cold water. £4 each - not bad. On to Chippy's, I mean Dave's, where we listened to music. When we mentioned to Chippy, sorry Dave, that Ally, I mean Mary, sleeps all day he responded 'Oh, she's schizophrenic'. He should know, he is a mental nurse at the local asylum.
-=-
Friday June 27, 1980
_. Atrociously wet day. At least we were spared the tennis from Wimbledon. The sporting event was disrupted and our TV screens were free of tantrum throwing US schoolgirls with pigtails and mouths full of metal braces.
I first set eyes on Auntie Delia five years ago today, and so sent her a letter. At 7pm she phoned inviting me to tea on Tuesday. One of her friends recently likened her to the late Joyce Grenfell, and I can see why.
I'm now going to mention something that's been on my mind for a few days, even weeks. Namely the thorny subject of my membership of a trade union [NATSOPA]. I joined the union about two years ago, and at the time I didn't really want to become involved but, uncharacteristically, followed my colleagues like a paraplegic sheep. On June 20 the Daily Telegraph carried an alarming article stating that NATSOPA is about to sponsor the left-wing Labour MP, Ron Leighton, to the tune of £25,000 per annum. This move was stated as being part of an initiative to pep up the political clout of the printworkers union. Obviously, I sat seething at the prospect of donating 80p a week to the Labour party. Therefor, I vowed to cease contributing to NATSOPA funds and never again to follow others like a four-legged mutton carrying animal. I have yet to be confronted by the venomous FOC [Father of the Chapel, as newspaper print union chiefs are called]. She, the FOC, happens to be a woman who terrifies all who come into contact with her. I am, however, resolved in my course of action and will stand up against the bullying leftist militants, who try and walk over humble librarians.
Home at 6. Sat with 'George the First' by Ragnhild Hatton. Watched Peter Cushing in 'The Abominable Snowman'. Bed after one.
-=-
I first set eyes on Auntie Delia five years ago today, and so sent her a letter. At 7pm she phoned inviting me to tea on Tuesday. One of her friends recently likened her to the late Joyce Grenfell, and I can see why.
I'm now going to mention something that's been on my mind for a few days, even weeks. Namely the thorny subject of my membership of a trade union [NATSOPA]. I joined the union about two years ago, and at the time I didn't really want to become involved but, uncharacteristically, followed my colleagues like a paraplegic sheep. On June 20 the Daily Telegraph carried an alarming article stating that NATSOPA is about to sponsor the left-wing Labour MP, Ron Leighton, to the tune of £25,000 per annum. This move was stated as being part of an initiative to pep up the political clout of the printworkers union. Obviously, I sat seething at the prospect of donating 80p a week to the Labour party. Therefor, I vowed to cease contributing to NATSOPA funds and never again to follow others like a four-legged mutton carrying animal. I have yet to be confronted by the venomous FOC [Father of the Chapel, as newspaper print union chiefs are called]. She, the FOC, happens to be a woman who terrifies all who come into contact with her. I am, however, resolved in my course of action and will stand up against the bullying leftist militants, who try and walk over humble librarians.
Home at 6. Sat with 'George the First' by Ragnhild Hatton. Watched Peter Cushing in 'The Abominable Snowman'. Bed after one.
-=-
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Saturday May 19, 1984
A warm, gentle day. Ally and I took off to town with Samuel at 1pm. We didn't take the pram and I carried baby for two hours, by the end...
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