Thursday September 18, 1980

PC Rhodes: no future.

_. The papers today were full of Lady Diana Spencer. They have all decided it's settled and tied up. I'm not speculating at the moment.

Home at 5:30 to find Mama and Papa in the middle of a fracas. Mum had raise the subject of the future beyond Dad's service in the police force, and Dad had brought the conversation to something of an impasse by saying he had no intention of discussing the future, because as far as he is concerned he doesn't have one. Mum was upset, but far from shattered. I think she is learning to live with his little peculiarities.

Ally came over on the bus at 7:30. The atmosphere in the house was far from harmonious, and so we walked out into Guiseley, for a tour of some of the hostelries. The Yorkshire Rose, the Drop, and the New Inn. This was the first time Ally has been to ours without a car. She once came over with Admiral Dave last year, but that's all. We enjoyed our walk. Autumn is definitely here. Home in a fine drizzle at 11. Saw Lynn and Dave on the lane driving back to Burley. Arranged to go to Dave A and Elaine's on Oct 2. Saw Jim and Margaret. Bed at 1:30.

Wednesday September 17, 1980

_. To Ally's at 5. Listened to music and cuddled until 12. Forgive the crossing out. All my fault.

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Tuesday September 16,1980

_. Shazzo is back from Crete looking decidedly pale and very reticent. What can she have been doing for three weeks? She tells such lies I wouldn't be at all surprised to discover she's really been to Filey, in one of those dreadful caravans. Kathleen was appalling all day, and Sarah made no appearance. She's vomiting.

Phoned at Ally at 2 and spoke to the dreadful Derek Jenkins. She sounded bored, but brightened. I vowed to visit her tomorrow. A Rolling Stones and lager session would be nice.

We are planning a Halloween party on Saturday Nov 1. Obviously, nobody will come, but at least we are making an effort. Some people never give parties but are always the first to attend them.

Benn: wide-eyed pipe smoking maniac.

I am worried about the antics in recent days of Mr Wedgwood Benn and his fanatical band of Labour Lefties. The Labour party conference is looming on the battle scarred horizon and it's clear to me that Callaghan will be slaughtered in favour of this wide-eyed pipe smoking maniac. It's Dad's opinion that Benn and Co will ensure Labour stay in the wilderness for another ten years at least, leaving a clear run for dear Margaret Hilda and that nice Mr Prior. I cannot share my father's optimism. I envisage a Red administration coming to power in 1984 bringing nothing but chaos, anarchy, and useless change for changes sake. What's wrong with the House of Lords, and Eton, cucumber sandwiches and Aston Martin cars?

Saw a programme about the Spitfire plane. Bed at 11:45.

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Monday September 15, 1980

_. Frank Dixon's birthday, and the 40th anniversary of the climax of the Battle of Britain.

Diana: ideal candidate

I spent the morning furiously whistling the theme tune from The Dambusters, under the impression that it was the Battle of Britain theme tune. Never mind. At least I was on the right track.

Spoke to Bob Cockroft about Lady Diana Spencer. She is the ideal candidate for future Queen, but we'll be kept in the dark until the actual day of the engagement announcement.

Spoke to Ally. She was miserable about Henry [the car] and is still sat at her desk buried in Agatha Christie novels. She is going mad with boredom. Catherine Brook doesn't return from Menorca until Wednesday.

Spoke to John tonight. His job as a paint sprayer is now in jeopardy. Corner House Cottage is coming along nicely, and Maria's been rolling the soil in readiness for the turf laying.

We are all out of cash at home. Mum is, at this very moment, hatching a plot to mug the electricity man when he comes to read the metre in the morning. She has just ransacked a cupboard, and shaken the change from Dad's trousers to muster  up 90p for my bus fares. Pathetic, isn't it?

In the News: Turkey has had another bloodless coup d'etat. John Anderson is gaining popularity in the coming US presidential election campaign. The Marchioness of Northampton has given birth to a daughter. Oh yes, and Mandy Baker is expecting a baby in mid-March. To bed at 12:30.

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Sunday September 14, 1980

_. A guy by the name of Andy phoned this afternoon and asked to speak to Alison. I'm curious. Could it be Prince Andrew perhaps, or Andrew, the chef at the Belfry? I phoned Ally, who was quite mystified. Wrong number? Strange coincidence?

Clouseau: exquisite

Saw one of those Sunday afternoon old films. Leslie Howard as R.J. Mitchell, the inventor of the Spitfire [the plane, not the car]. Corny and dreadful, but in an endearing way.

Pork for dinner. Ate too much. Just Mama and I, because Papa was out in his constabulary role beating up innocent members of the public.

Saw Peter Sellers as Inspector Clouseau tonight. Exquisite. Also watched Lord Olivier playing Lord Dowding in 'The Battle of Britain', or was it Lord Dowding playing Lord Olivier in 'The Battle of Marston Moor'? William Walton's battle theme is so good, but the film did go on a bit.

Bed at almost 1am.

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Saturday September 13, 1980

_. Ally phoned at 10:45 and got me out of bed. She came here an hour later and we drove out in the ailing motor car to Grassington, stopping first for a drink in Burnsall. I have offered to pay Ally £15 to be my personal shoe-cleaner. At least I would see her at weekends. She says she may soon be taking me up on the offer because the Belfry is dying on its feet.

In Grassington

To the Black Horse in Grassington. Our last visit here ended so badly.  Back at Pine Tops by 4:30, Sue and Pete were with Mum and Dad. I fiddled around tuning my new portable telly, which arrived yesterday. I now know how it feels to be a man of property.

The Triumph Spitfire began making ridiculous noises and so Ally deposited the car at Sue's and we went out with them to the Burley Gates [formerly the pizza place Burley House], just for one tipple, and then on to the New Inn, which seemed to be full of convicts and potential psychotic killers. Sue went to chat with one of her girlfriends who was with a fiend who daily hacks chunks out of her with a meat cleaver.

Back to West End Terrace for vodka and hotdogs, then Ally and I returned home. I watched an ancient 1930s gangster movie on my new telly, and Ally slept next to me twitching in her sleep reminiscent of an old tabby cat. __________.

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Friday September 12, 1980

Sarah: back from Rhodes

_. Sarah is back from the Island of Rhodes looking decidedly pale. We went to Parker's at 12. She is full of praise for the Greek satellite. Booze was dirt cheap, the food plentiful and the sun blazed down from dawn until dusk. No cars, just donkeys. She saw a host of celebrities there including Angela Rippon, the majority of Pink Floyd, Trevor Eve, &c. Her relationship with Trevor is strong as ever, but she didn't really hit it off with his wild friends. They teamed up with a couple called Penny and Arthur. Why is it that one always meets an Arthur on holiday?

Out tonight with Pete Mather. He phoned at 6:30. Out we went to the Shoulder of M and then the Mucky Duck on Manningham Lane [Black Swan?]. Both pubs were packed. Pete told me tales of Lynne M. On to the Hare and Hounds at Heaton. Joked and clowned around with Sue Martindale. We went on to Oakwood. Pete says he feels so old watching the young ones. Christ Almighty, we are still young, and I for one refuse to give in to this so-called ageing process which is eating away at everyone else.

Home at 12:30.

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Thursday September 11, 1980

_. Marlene is 35 today.

To Ally's after work. Mounds of fish cakes and cauliflower cheese. Back to Guiseley at 8:30 to the Drop and the New Inn. Home at 10 to find Mum playing a hilarious joke on Margaret. Every time Margaret left the room to visit the loo Mum switched a spider plant for a larger one. The poor woman thought the plant was growing before her very eyes. She wasn't amused on discovering the treachery.

I collected some last will and testament forms from a law stationers in Leeds for Mum and Dad. Sounds dreadful, doesn't it? But anyone who owns property should have things settled on paper. Look at the trouble brought about by my the death of my grandfather, John Wilson, in 1961. _______.

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Wednesday September 10, 1980

_. I cannot hear my alarm clock. Useless thing it is.

Spoke to Ally and arranged to go out tonight. It's Wednesday, I know. We never go out on Wednesday, but tonight is an exception.

To the New Inn at 8:30. We huddled together and felt cold. On to the Fox and Hounds. Later, Ally stayed in Sue's old room and I retired to my suite feeling listless and scroggy.

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Tuesday September 9, 1980

Sue: Wendy Wanderers

_. Home at 5:45 and went straight out to Fieldhead playing fields to see Sue play football for the Wendy Wanderers team. They lost 13-4 to a pack of heavies from Huby. Really pathetic. Joined by Jim, Margaret and Julie, who came to lend true Nason support. Afterwards we repaired to the Yorkshire Rose. Lynn and Dave, celebrating 2 years of marriage, put in an appearance before going on to the Emmott Arms for dinner. Dave announced that he has given his notice at Thompson & Spencer after seven years of dedicated service. He has found better employment with another firm of architects in Leeds for £2,000 per annum more.

Susan's friend Audrey ____ devours every man with her eyes. [Can you devour with your eyes?]. A bride of six months, her husband was nowhere to be seen. Pie & peas, &c.

To the White Cross with Sue and Pete for one last drink. Saw 'Flu' and the horrid Sharon. Pete brought me home at 11. Mum and Dad were in bed but I went in and gave them a very biased match report.

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Monday September 8, 1980

_. To Sue and Pete's at 5 from the chaos of the YP. Carol J is having 'man trouble' and felt unable to work today.

Lady Diana: nineteen

The dreadful Sun newspaper told us this morning that the Prince of Wales is now in love with Lady Diana Spencer, the 19 year-old sister of Lady Sarah McCorquodale. She could, of course, be a red herring. Diana's connections with the Royal Household are numerous. Both grannies have been in waiting on the Queen Mother, and her brother-in-law, Robert Fellowes, is the assistant private secretary to the Queen. Nineteen is just the right age. The girl has no past and is 'English Rose' material.

Delia came into the office at 3 and I went down to the foyer to see her. She told Mike Holman that I am her nephew. He gave us peculiar glances as we chortled on a settee.

Sue made fish and chips, peas, cheesecake, washed down with vodka and orange and coffee. Both seem very happy. We sat watching their tiny TV set. Sue is playing football for the Wendy Wanderers at Fieldhead Rd tomorrow against a vicious team of girls from Huby. Peter is coaching her and advises that she must never touch the ball, not even for a second. To do so could result in serious injury, or even death. He must have been advising Leeds Utd too. Susan hates being kissed, and so I made all the more of it when parting. She is lovely and sweet.

Bed at 12.

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