Wednesday November 5, 1980

_. I retired to bed at 3am and climbed out again at 6:45 to watch the election programme on the BBC. Reagan has won everywhere, and Carter is left with only Georgia, his home state. Mrs Thatcher will be rubbing her hands with glee but I cannot help feeling wary about this clapped out old actor. Mind you, I said some pretty loathsome things about Jimmy Carter in '76, but changed my opinion of him.

Princess Anne: another baby.

Reagan is the oldest person to have been elected president of the US. A couple were elected aged 65 back in the last century, but Ronald will be 70 on February 6. I have always thought that Kennedy was the youngest president, 43 at his inauguration, but Teddy Roosevelt was only 42 at his in 1901.

It was announced this afternoon that Princess Anne is expecting another child in May. Carol laughed when I suggested Lady Diana Spencer might make it three.

Ally came over at 8 and we went to Leeds. Elaine, she says, has confided in Lynn that poor Billy is definitely 'queer'. How very perceptive of her.

To the Bank wine bar opposite the Town Hall. Bohemian types sinking bottles of wine. Joined by Graham and Gill at 10:15. They are getting married on March 28, and spending their honeymoon in Morocco. How can they do such a thing after the shoddy treatment King Hassan gave to the Queen last week? On to Rue Club and a Chinese take-away. To bed very late.

-=-

Tuesday November 4, 1980

_. Nothing at the YP. Graham Dixon phoned me at about 11pm enquiring after the whereabouts of Ally. I told him she would be in bed ignoring the phone. He and Gill are coming to Leeds on business [delivering programmes to the Grand Theatre] tomorrow and want to meet for lunch or a drink. Hell, I have no money.

Ronald Reagan: landslide.

A day of elections. I am writing now at 1:35am on November 5, and I have to report that Ronald Reagan has won a landslide victory in the US presidential election. Or so it seems anyway. I am watching the BBC live from the USA, and they are predicting this victory and are never wrong. Oh, God. Get out the gas masks, Ethel. The American broadcasting networks are reeling at the news. No sitting president has been ejected after only one term of office since Hoover in 1933. If only Carter had done something about Iran in '78 when the Shah began to have trouble. Had he shown some foresight he wouldn't be now sitting in the White House with tear stained cheeks. All this leaves me with sweat on my brow and stains of a muddy hue in my undergarments. Russia bashin' is bloody dangerous. Blimey, it could all be over by Christmas, and by 'all over' I refer to the world!

The other election taking place today was at Westminster where a man called Healey has won the first ballot in the election for a new leader of the Labour party. This means nothing. I have watched a man called Foot waving his walking stick at TV cameras and beaming merrily. Can nobody have told him?

I must remember to tell Ally about Graham, when I make my dawn alarm call. She's bound to panic because she is penniless and almost destitute and you know how Graham loves his greasy take-aways and gallons of ale.

It's now 1:50am and I am looking at David Dimbleby and wondering whether or not to switch off. Oh dear.

-=-

Monday November 3, 1980

_. Mum phoned me at the office. They are going to Lynn and Dave's for dinner. My dinner, a fish pie, will be in the oven. I found it warming at 6pm. Ally arrived at 7:45 looking vivacious with her hair gathered on top of a new enchanting fringe. We sat for a couple of hours like a long established couple. She looked at the newspapers, breaking off to giggle at 'Not the Nine O'clock News'. At 10:30, both feeling weak with hunger, we bought fish and chips. I am a growing boy. She left me at 11 to avoid the horror bits on Barry Norman's 'Film 80'. Switched off and retired to bed at 11:30.

Denis Healey: party leader?

Princess Michael of Kent is expecting her second child in April. Only last week I was expressing my impatience to Carol J that Her Most Catholic Royal Highness wasn't playing the game. Lord Frederick, her first, will be two on April 6. Perhaps this will now inspire Princess Anne, because the Royal Family tends to produce offspring in twos and threes.

Two elections tomorrow: [1] The Labour party leadership, and [2] the US presidential elections. If Healey and Reagan win these I will become a Benedictine Monk and wear rough sacking next to my flesh for the remainder of my days.

-=-

Sunday November 2, 1980

_. 22nd Sunday after Trinity

It's done Ally so much good throwing a party because everyone pays such lavish complements to Sprog Hall. The enchantment with 5, Club Street is widespread. Up at 10:30 gasping for water. Billy, who had slept in a chair all night, looked half dead, clutching a cigarette. Dave G the only one showing signs of life.

To Guiseley at 1pm. Drop in on Sue and Pete who are fitting a new sink unit. We left them working and went to the White Cross. We left Billy sleeping in the car underneath a sleeping bag. Afterwards, with Billy still indisposed in the car, we went to Pine Tops for an hour so that Dave could see Mum. We sat like geriatrics watching an ancient American film.

The lads left for Stockport at 4. Ally anmd I are going over on November 15 for dinner at Steak Kebabs, at Cheadle Hulme [?].

Royal news: The Queen has received terrible treatment from Morocco's insane King Hassan on her recent state visit to that 'tin pot' monarchy. The mad man refused to keep any schedule and frequently disrupted or held up the Queen's programme.

It is rumoured in one of the papers that Lady Diana Spencer has recently visited Highgrove, the home of the Prince of Wales. HRH gave Lady Diana a guided tour of his new country retreat. Ding dong.

Ghastly news: Michael Foot is going to be the next leader of the Labour party. Of this I am quite certain. And, my doubts that Ronald Reagan would be elected president of the USA are fading rapidly. I can hardly believe that the American people could be so bloody stupid as to give a mandate to this 70 year-old, dyed haired actor. Who'll be standing in 1984? Kennedy v. Telly Savalas, or will it be George Burns?

Watched a Dennis Potter play. Ally stayed the night. Bed at 12:30.

-=-

Saturday November 1, 1980

_. Cold. To Bradford at lunchtime with Ally on a shoe buying expedition. After three hours we emerged from a shop with a pair costing £18. She is desperately low on footwear and this, I fear, is only the beginning.

With Jill and Tim to the Bod at 8 meeting Dave G, Garry, Billy, Denise Akroyd, Chris Ratcliffe, Dave L, Jacq, Paul, Chris & Audrey Rycroft, Lynn, Dave, Sue, Pete, Dave & Elaine Allinson, &c.

Elaine Allinson and Dave B.

Ally on top form doing the rounds and chatting with everyone. She is more sociable than me. Back at the house. Dave L danced and was killer wearing Ally's shower cap. Billy gave a brilliant one man performance stripped to the waist. Garry, on his return from the Bod, collapsed and was carried to bed. Elaine was a great addition to the party. It all fizzled out at at about 2:30. Sue wasn't on top form because she had suffered a fall in the Crown, and was in some pain. Chippy and Deborah came to the Bod but never made it back to the house. A good thing really because Lynn can be violent where he is concerned. Bed at 3-ish.

-=-

Friday October 31, 1980

_. Left Ally at 8 and made my way to Leeds. She has decided to stay at home and splash gloss paint on her bathroom. Why should she enslave herself to that twisted Welsh fiend at Bradford AHA?

I phoned her several times throughout the day for bulletins on the bathroom progress and received favourable reports. The paint was winning 7-0 at half time.

Ally came over for a candlelit dinner with Mama and Papa. Dad related some amusing anecdotes about his old sergeant in Goldthorpe, Horace Jacobs.

Out to the Shoulder at 8:30 . Met Sue, Pete, Gerald and Debbie. I felt a cold coming on. Like a bronchil pug. Escaped the smoke-filled pub and the two us went to the Drop, where I had three large, medicinal whiskies with the approval of Jean Hanson. They had the effect of a cloud lifting from my brow.

Home in a stupor. The hideous Esther Rantzen on a chat show. Mum says Denise visited me the other evening when we were Flexitexing. What can this mean?

To bed with Clementine Churchill.

-=-

Thursday October 30, 1980

_. Sarah and I refused to pay our union subs and stand defiant in the face of death. However, inspecting my contract [signed as recently as May] I see that I am virtually hog-tied to NATSOPA. Jim Rawnsley begged me to reconsider because he knows only too well just how vindictive trade unions can be. It might take them years, he says, but in the end they will find a way of getting rid of me.

To Lidget Green at 6. Paint the bathroom green. We went to the Bod for the last hour. We discussed Catherine Brook _______. Fish and chips afterwards but encountered a thug embossed in tattoos, and blessed with a flowery command  of our rich language. I escaped with my fish and me life.

Back to Ally's. Re-arranged the sitting room and squabbled until nearly 3am.

-=-

Wednesday October 29, 1980

_. The YP Library staff all received letters from the M.O.C. [Mother of the Chapel] Miss P. McKone, reminding us of our huge arrears with our NATSOPA subs and informs us that in three weeks time we will be sacked if we haven't paid up. The union is in no position to threaten and I am blazing with rage. This means war, or certainly resignation from the odious NATSOPA.

On to Club Street at 12. I flooded the bathroom whilst attempting to remove a radiator. I did have doubts about this all along.  Ally had hysterics. She went out for the afternoon and I finished the wallpapering. Quite a favourable attempt. We dined at 6:30 and I continued decorating until 10. Drove to Pine Tops afterwards.

Dave G phoned at 7. He is definitely coming on Saturday, but he and the lads are dining at the Georgian Restaurant first. It's s Saturday tradition that cannot be broken.

-=-

Tuesday October 28, 1980

_.To Bradford at 6 where Lynn and Dave arrived for dinner shortly afterwards. Ally is an imaginative cook. We ate heartily. Dave and I then made for the bathroom where he daubed the ceiling in something called Flexitex, which is quite ingenious. Within a couple of hours he'd progressed to the bedroom and successfully daubed on that ceiling too. We are pleased with the result.

Afterwards we sat by candlelight listening to Elgar and Rachmaninov, until almost 12.

Lynn looks remarkable and almost 'unpregnant' in her work trousers. She'd come for a slog with the decorating but had spent the evening chatting with Ally. The howls of laughter penetrated our activities upstairs.

Dave demonstrated the ease with which one can remove a radiator from a wall, so that I can hang wallpaper in the bathroom tomorrow. Plumbing and I just do not harmonize.

To bed at 12, feeling tired. The Flexitex makes everything smell of amonia.

-=-

Monday October 27, 1980

_. Bank Holiday in the Irish Republic

Horribly wet. Floods are reported throughout the country. I'm cracking on building an ark.

Wrote numerous letters, including to Ally, and walked in the drizzle at lunchtime to escape the office. Sarah says she isn't coming to my party on Saturday, and for the remainder of the day conversation is clipped.

I phoned Ally at 4. She is brewing tonight.

Sizeable dinner at 6:15 and afterwards tuned into Radio 4 to hear Doris Archer breathe her last. Quite a giggle.

Lady Diana and Mrs Parker Bowles.

Watched 'Panorama' dealing with Governor Ronald Reagan. An astute Democrat is recorded as saying: "You could walk through Governor Reagan's deepest thoughts and not get your feet wet." I think this is a marvellous summing up of this ageing, dyed-haired cowboy. Carter is bad, but Ronald Reagan is an out right danger and a threat.

The Prince of Wales and Lady Diana Spencer have been seen in public - racing at Ludlow. Obviously, romance is being denied, but I suspect the opposite. They spent the weekend with Maj Andrew and Mrs Parker Bowles.

To bed at 11:30 with Clementine Churchill.

-=-

Sunday October 26, 1980

_. 21st Sunday after Trinity - British Summer Time Ends

Up at 11. Ally went off to do her bit [at the Belfry].  I sat reading Clementine Churchill by Mary Soames. I could see Mum laughing at me, and although she didn't actually say so I knew she was thinking I look like my grandfather, Albert Rhodes. It's the way I hold a book. He used to sit buried behind large volumes, usually to avoid conversation. I tried not to cross my legs in the way that he did, but after a few pages I found myself doing so.

Erroll Flynn.

Suki and Pete paid us a visit and we watched a short Peter Sellers film followed by 'The Private Life of Elizabeth and Essex', a 1939 film starring Bette Davis and Erroll Flynn. Peter and I made the usual bawdy jokes about Erroll Flynn. In one scene the actor is straddling a horse, and the comment was made that they must have made a special saddle to hold the actor and his 'protrusion'. Nothing like a nice, vulgar Sunday afternoon.

I continued to read about Clem. She and Sir Winston wrote some remarkable love letters. Quite revealing.

Michael Foot will be the next Labour leader. The man will of course have us completely disarmed if her ever becomes PM.

Took to my bed at 10:45, and read until after 12.