Friday August 15, 1980

_. To Leeds from Bradford, again. Telephoned Mama to make her feel wanted. I have barely seen her or Papa since we returned from Ibiza. I suspect they are enjoying their new found long overdue seclusion.

Ally did a shift at the Belfry tonight and I went to 5, St Lawrence Close with Lynn, Dave, Hilda, Tony, Mum, Dad, Marlene, Frank, &c. We went to Standale Rise to remove the last of Auntie Mabel's furniture. We all struggled in the flat arranging her bulky furniture in the small square lounge. Like a silly scene from a silent movie. The women giggled so much that the Tv flickered with the peals of laughter.

Mum, Dad and I went on to Hilda's where we found ourselves locked out. Tim and Jill had locked up and gone boozing at St Lawrence Cricket Club. Hilda hoisted herself up onto a window ledge and squeezed herself through a tiny kitchen window, serenaded by the yelping of the confused Yorkshire Terrier below. I wish I could have captured the scene on camera.

Tim, Jill, Karen and Steve came with Tony's former Liberal party agent, Peter. We had a Chinese takeaway. I went into Bradford with Tony and Steve to collect curry for some of them, from a filthy looking place there. Home at one, or was it 2?

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Thursday August 14, 1980

_. Breakfast with Ally leaving Graham and Gill in bed, and then went to the YP by bus.

A foul, wet day. Home to tea with Mum and Dad. The house is quiet without Susan. Her laughter is missed.

Graham, Gill and Ally came for me at 8 and they met Mum and Dad for the first time. Out over the moors to Baildon, where we met Philip and Carol Middlebrough again. From there we visited several grossly miserable pubs where Ally and I would never patronise in a million years if left to our own devices.

Gill told us tales of her life as a teacher at Andover Girls' School, or whatever they call the public school where she teaches. It's all very reminiscent of Evelyn Waugh's 'Decline and Fall.' I am sure that Graham regards me as something of an idiot. I do like him.

We had fish and chips in Lidget Green and drank all Ally's Ibiza gin. To bed quite late, and quite drunk. Graham marvelled at the way Ally and I fit into such a tiny bed.

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Wednesday August 13, 1980

_. Graham and Gill arrived at Ally's, taking her by surprise. They are staying with her until Sunday.

This evening we went to Haworth meeting Philip and Carol Middlebrough en route. Ally played wealthy benefactor, owing to my lack of cash.

Graham was on top form. Silly as ever and so delightfully opinionated. We went to The Old Silent Inn, but didn't eat because the prices were too steep. On to a more reasonably priced, nameless pub for scampi and chips, and then a pub at Harden near Bingley. In Graham's car we listened to 'Derek and Clive Live' by Peter Cook and Dudley Moore - funny, in places.

Back to Ally's for the night.

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Tuesday August 12, 1980

_. To Pudsey with Mum and Dad at 10:30 and spent the day painting Auntie Mabel's bedroom. I left them at 4:30 and got a bus to Leeds. Saw Sarah, who looked exhausted. She is back with RL superstar John Holmes. I am informed that Kathleen's papa suffered a heart attack yesterday and that subsequently the boss won't be putting in an appearance for the rest of the week.

A dull night at the YP. Home at 12:15am. Something has happened that I've been expecting with trepidation for some time. My taxi driver is years younger than me. A mere boy. I sat in silence brooding about the passage of time. I think I can appreciate now how one reads of 80 year-olds who insist that only feel 21. Time just rockets by. I clearly remember being 17 and feel no different now. Cruel, isn't it?

Had salad sandwiches and swigged tea, reading The Times, such a wonderful newspaper.

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Monday August 11, 1980

_. Rain. Still reeking of garlic from three thousand miles away.

Eileen had a baby boy on August 5, weighing something in the region of 6lb. He is to be Philip Michael.

Auntie Mabel has finally found a flat at 5, St Lawrence Close, Pudsey. Ally and I went to see her, in driving rain, after depositing her luggage at Club St. It's a decent flat with only one drawback, a tiny bath designed for a dwarf. Cousin Jackie was there, and Marlene and Frank were beavering around with paint brushes and rolls of wallpaper.

Home at 7. Fish and chips. We had every intention of going out, but I had an attack of diarrhoea. Susan suggested I might be going into labour.

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Sunday August 10, 1980

_. 10th Sunday after Trinity

End of our holiday. Spent an hour packing my suitcase and clearing the room. We deposited our luggage in reception and went to a bar where I made the mistake of eating grilled prawns in garlic. For the rest of the day I was ostracised.

We left for Ibiza airport at about 5 and flew at something in the vicinity of 7. Back at the Hollywood at 10 gasping for a drink. Surprised to see Lynn and Dave there. They had thoughtfully driven over to give Ally and I a lift back to Guiseley. Left for home after 12. On the drive home Lynn filled us in on two weeks news including the Chippy trauma. Mum and Dad were in bed but we went in for a chat.

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Saturday August 9, 1980

_. On San Antonio beach until 6. Party in room 305 until after 10. A wild, hilarious party. Dave and I wore bright nail polish, and we went out wearing the outfits with stuffed birds stitched to the shoulders. In the square the bandit photographer with the chimpanzee told me that my birds are more eye catching than his pathetic animal. To the OK Coral with tits [birds] and nails. They all ate but I had gin and tonic instead. To Chac Mool - seething, then Nito's and home at 5am. I took a dip in the pool with some Germans, and Ally persuaded me to get out.

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Friday August 8, 1980

Hot. On San Antonio beach from 9am until 6:30. Out on pedalos with Ally, Sue and Pete. Read Agatha's Christie's 'Murder in the Mew', and the book was soggy from my perspiration. Out on the town as bloody usual. Back to the hotel at 2am due to lack of ideas.

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Thursday August 7, 1980

_. Up at 10:30. To Cala Bassa for the afternoon. Ally sat on the ferry reading 'Death on the Nile' by Agatha Christie.

On the beach, burning sand, Ally decided to 'get drunk' and the gin and lemon began to flow. I stuck to orange juice. Poor Garry returned to the hotel in pain with his blisters, poor sod. I was reading, and looking up I saw Ally had gone, and was bobbing around far out to sea. I swam out to her and she was desperately trying to stand up, and couldn't understand why. She was in 30ft of sea water. That's gin for you.

Out tonight with Ally, Dave and Garry. Had chicken and chips outside a cafe. To Pete's Bar, the stifling Project Bar, Flash Bar, then Nito's until 5am.  Ally caught sight of a very large lizard basking on a white painted wall.

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Wednesday August 6, 1980

_. Out at 8:30 after breakfast taking bread rolls to feed the fish at the bar near the Hawaii Hotel.

On San Antonio beach all day.

To Pinocchio's again. Then to Peter's bar [the guy who owns Nito's]. Blackbeard's for the traditional gin and tonic, then the Project Bar seething with posing Scandinavians. Only half of them were actually drinking. We returned to the Es Pla at 1 leaving Dave and Garry to the vices of San Antonio night life.

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Tuesday August 5, 1980

_. Ally and Garry are blistered, quite terribly, and so we resolve to avoid the sun and take a day off. To a bar in close proximity to the hotel with a copy of the Daily Telegraph. The strain was too much and so we returned to the hotel and slept all afternoon.

Tonight: to Pinocchio's for lasagne and wine where we sat under a fan gasping for air. On to Los Gatos but we were overcome by the nauseating stench of a passing refuse lorry. On to Es Reco, El Capone's [which is now a dump and where the police sit every night waiting for English hooligans to start fighting]. Then to the faithful Project Bar and the Playboy Club [with just Ally, and oh the coolness of this class disco]. On to the Extasis until 5am where I danced about to the Rolling Stones. Out of the club to the beach and at 6am had a dip in the Med. Back to the Es Pla for breakfast at 7:30, where we sat giggling at some elderly Scots ordering boiled eggs, very loudly, shouting 'four minutes, not three' to the waitress.

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