Thursday November 26, 1980

_. Back to the YP. Carol embraced me when I walked into the office. She likens my entry to the Stanley-Livingstone meeting in a steaming African jungle all those decades ago. Kathleen wept for joy.

Received £8.03 for tips and lineage contributed to the YP in September. Excellent. Out at lunchtime. Bought a bottle of Bell's whisky for Mama's Xmas booze mountain. Bought a 1981 journal - £2.60.

Mum phoned at 3:30 to say Carole Phillips gave birth to a daughter on Nov 25 weighing in excess of 9lb. Dad saw Margaret Phillips [to serve a summons on something] and she told him that the baby is in great shape, but that Carole is quite ill. Bless her, she wanted a girl.

Home in the ice and hail at 6. Soaked to the skin. Still have no appetite and sat poking at some fish, pushing it around my plate. This isn't me at all.

Rachel Roberts: dead at 51.

News: 5,000 die in an Italian earthquake. The YP had a leader today on Lady Diana Spencer 'marriageability'. Rachel Roberts, the actress, dies at 51. In the House of Commons Edward Heath has said nasty things about Margaret Thatcher. Unemployment figures now top 53,000,000.

Watched 'Top of the Pops' on the BBC. It's always good for a laugh watching Dad's reaction to the half-crazed warblers. Watching them from over the top of his Yorkshire Post, bravely accepting everything assaulting his ears.

Jim and Margaret came at 8:30 and stayed until 11. To bed at 12 after 'Soap' on Tyne Tees TV. I look completely washed out.

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Wednesday November 26, 1980

_. Sunny. Up at 10 or thereabouts. Ate little breakfast because my appetite is still wandering around elsewhere. I had a conversation with Ally and we decided to spend lunchtime in some local ale house.

I sat buried in 'The Trumpet Major' - old Hardy really has surprised me quite pleasantly. I always imagined his works to be dull.

Jim Nason.

Ally came at 12:30 and we went to the Fox and Hounds [Menston] where we bumped into Jim Nason and a fellow workmate from Armitage Shanks. He bought us a drink and left at 1:30. The were both jealously observing their managing director entertaining a party from Switzerland to lunch, and wanted to be part of it. Back at Pine Tops we had prawn sandwiches and then Ally returned to her office, and Derek Jenkins, and his filthy Welsh habits.

The Prince of Wales is in India and reports now say that Malcolm Fraser, the Australian prime minister [and other Commonwealth leaders] have been told that the royal marriage to Lady Diana Spencer is scheduled for next June, or October. This has been denied by the palace, naturally. A red-faced Malcolm Fraser has said he hasn't 'let slip' this news, and cries of 'rubbish' and 'codswallop' fly everywhere, but I do think this is it. The royal chips are, as they say, down.

Sir Geoffrey Howe is in trouble over his national insurance mess, and perhaps his head will roll.

Spent the afternoon and evening pouring over 'The Trumpet Major'. The TV is diabolical. To bed at 11:30.

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Tuesday November 25, 1980

_. Bright and sunny. Up at 11. Mama was on the phone talking to Sarah. From the tone of the conversation I gather that Sarah too is laid low with the plague. I laid in my sweaty sheets chortling at the thought of the chaos and pandemonium at the YP library with both it's workers off at the same time.

Ate some breakfast and then went for a walk in the sun to to the library. Did some shopping for Mama. Struggling back up the lane I was made painfully aware how my illness has taken its toll and weakened me. I reached Pine Tops panting and sweating as if I'd just completed the north face of the Eiger.

Ally phoned while I was out and was going to lunch with the desolate Catherine who dislikes her new job in the anaesthetist department.

Susie phoned. Both she and Pete have diarrhoea, and are currently running at West End Terrace. Lynn also phoned, and yes, you've guessed, she too has had a slight attack of the abovementioned ailment. It seems we are all stricken.

Phoned Sarah at 1:30. Delia accused me of ignoring her which is quite accurate really. Sarah giggled at us both being absent from the office and insisted I take tomorrow off as well. 'Let them do some work for a change' she said. This appealed to me greatly.

Brown: attacked.

Sarah told me that poor Michael Brown was beaten up over the weekend in Leeds after being caught up in a women's anti-Ripper demonstration. It seems that the brigands were setting about any males whom they could lay hands on. I do understand the fear women must be feeling in these violent times and this particularly violent area, but by attacking innocent members of the opposite sex I am afraid they are defeating the object.

Had lunch by candlelight at 2pm because the light outside began fading rapidly. Afterwards Papa fell into an immediate sleep [he'd been looking after violent prisoners in Otley since 6am]. I poured over 'The Trumpet Major' and Mama knitted furiously in pink wool. Yet another creation for baby Catherine.

Ally came at 5:30 and we went to Pudsey in the dark and drizzle. To St Lawrence Close. Auntie Mabel looked bright and thinner. I find it hard to believe she is almost 62. Had a heavy dinner here and watched TV until 10:30. Ally and I were huddled on the sofa. I could see that auntie fully approves of her. She is coming to Ally's party on Dec 11.

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Monday November 24, 1980

_. To make matters worse I now have diarrhoea which is most inconvenient. Wet. Diarrhoea's wet too. Woke at 8 to hear Mum giving Ally her alarm call and went back to sleep until 10.

Sat in my warm bed reading about Edward VIII's abdication, which reminds me of my own abdication from the YP. Poor Shazzo is alone with Carol at the office amidst all the Yorkshire Ripper chaos and the Italian earthquake. Sarah is with John MacM in London. However, I do not feel fraudulent in any respect because I simply refuse to shit myself in a newspaper office for £55 a week.

Ally phoned and was bubbly. She's carrying on painting tonight. I had a salad for lunch whilst clutching a hot water bottle between my knees at the same time. An odd combination.

News: The Prince of Wales has gone to India for a week or so which might halt Lady Diana speculation, if only briefly. The boy is far too busy to think about becoming engaged. A report in the Daily Mail this morning likens Lady Diana's eyes ~ the colour ~ to those of Elizabeth Taylor. That will do for me.

Stayed in bed until after 3 when I tired of Edward and Wallis and took up Hardy's 'The Trumpet Major'. I haven't read Hardy before. Spoke to Ally twice. Gill had a motoring accident on Friday and might have broken her nose and hurt her knee whilst writing off her car. Bessie is buying Ally a tumble dryer for Christmas. No longer will Club Street resemble a Chinese laundry. Ally is nervous about being alone in Bradford since the latest Ripper murder. She felt the same after Barbara Leach's murder, &c.

What has become of our poor nation? Just seen footage of a demo in London on Saturday by the so-called British Movement. Pre-pubic skinhead yobs. I'd shoot the lot of them.

-=-

Sunday November 23, 1980

_. Last Sunday after Trinity

Woke up feeling better, but with a headache. Had a boiled egg. Joked with Mum about last night's 'ball'.

Reading 'The Windsor Story' by J. Bryan III and Charles J.V. Murphy. Watched Peter Sellers in a poor, Neolithic comedy.

Phoned John at Lochans. He's more relaxed these days. He's taking the brood on a drive to Drummore this afternoon.

Had a row with Mum which spoilt dinner _____________.

Had a conversation with Ally who is 'car sitting' for Lynn and Dave and then coming here afterwards. She phoned back in floods of tears at 7:30 saying her car won't start, blaming David for flattening the battery when fixing her cassette player. Ten minutes later she phoned back saying the car was 'burring' and raring to go. She came over at 8:15. Saw the Royal Variety Performance. Ally left at 10:30.

Watched Woody Allen's 'Love and Death'. Hilarious.

-=-

Saturday November 22, 1980

_. Sweat a good deal in the night and dreamt about aliens landing from outer space in the Yorkshire Dales, scurrying into the numerous labyrinths and potholes. Naturally, in my dream I volunteered, along with two skinheads, to pursue the invading aliens into the bowels of the earth to exterminate them, and thereby save the world. I woke up at 9am just as I surfaced from a mossy pothole.

I attempted to eat breakfast [sausages] but it was all too much. I reclined on a sofa like an emaciated Roman senator until David had the good sense to bring me home to Pine Tops at 1 o'clock. Mum and Dad were out so I left a note and climbed into bed. Dad woke me at 6 with a bowl of horrible vegetable soup.

Mum and Dad went out at 8 with Hilda and Tony, Earl Stevens and Betty Hesp to the Wharfedale Gate ~ old time dancing and all that rot. Mum was dreading the experience.

I slept a little longer and then watched 'Dallas' at 9:15 to see who shot J.R. It was Bing Crosby's daughter after all. Back to bed by 11. Tony came into my room in the early hours and assaulted me. He had the cheek to say I might have alcoholic poisoning. Hilda also appeared and gave me a Silver wedding invitation for Christmas Eve.

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Friday November 21, 1980

_. Up at 7 feeling listless. Ate breakfast with Kitten and took a smoke-filled omnibus to the YP. At lunchtime I bought wallpaper, paste and turpentine [for Ally's small bedroom] and I puffed and panted carrying the provisions around town. The latest [Yorkshire] Ripper business makes the YP a hectic, seething spot and I was in no mood to cope with it.

Home at 6. No appetite. Ate fish reluctantly. Took a bath. Collected by Lynn and Dave at 7:30. They took me to Ally's. It was a mistake. She was daubing paint on her bedroom walls and was infuriatingly unsympathetic to my aches and pains which annoyed me. Aren't I always running to her side, oozing comfort, when she is under the weather?

Lynn brought her portable TV and we watched 'Steptoe & Son', the series from 1972, which made me howl. At 10 I could take no more and retired to bed. By now Ally realised I was ill. I lay beneath the sheets shivering and shaking.

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Thursday November 20, 1980

_. State Opening of Parliament. The 33rd wedding anniversary of the Queen and the Duke of Edinburgh.

Over to Ally's at 6 with David B [who collected me from the YP], where we joined Precious and an expanding Lynn. The Bakers are on a strange mission. To sell Lynn's car they have advertised it the Bradford Telegraph & Argus under Ally's phone number and are taking up residence at Sprog Cottage until Saturday in the hope that a Colonial gentleman with £300 to spare will come along. I think it odd. Why not advertise in the Northamptonshire Gazette and go stay with Earl Spencer?

I feel and look exhausted. We dined on leek and onion soup followed by fish and chips and cloudy lager. Listened to tapes until 11. We discussed names for the baby. I attempted to push Charles, and it was pleasantly received. James too. Lynn and Dave returned to Burley having had no enquiries.

I phoned Dave L and asked him to join us at Ally's on Saturday with Sue and Pete. He seemed to like the idea.

To bed at 12 feeling ill. Something is amiss.

-=-

Wednesday November 19, 1980

Ripper: his 13th victim.

_. My cousin Diane is 17 today.

YP: It has been confirmed that the Ripper has claimed his thirteenth victim. Had a frantic day because of this.

Phoned Auntie Mabel at 2 and invited myself [with Ally] to tea on Nov 25. Phoned Ally. She came to see me at 7:30. Dave G phoned to enquire about holiday plans '81. I told him about Ally's resignation from the Belfry and our worries about scraping up the cash for two weeks in Agios Nikolaos. I ended by saying we'll sort something out shortly.

I persuaded Ally to stay the night. I loathe to think of her driving around Bradford when this maniac is on the loose.

-=-

Tuesday November 18, 1980

_. Wet and cold. Dad joined me on my journey to Leeds because he's back at school at the Leeds Police HQ. Poor Jennie didn't open her mouth.

Busy day. A guy from Debrett's, and a so-called expert on the illegitimate lines of descent from King Charles II, reveals in the Daily Express that he's spent weeks researching Lady Diana Spencer's genealogy. I did the same search in a couple of hours. I'd love to work for Debrett's or Burke's Peerage, and be paid for it. Sadly though I didn't go to Lancing, and I'm not related to Sir Winston Churchill, and my surname is not D'Arcy-Mountjoy-Bampfylde-Evans. I don't stand a chance.

A girl has been murdered in Headingley and [Yorkshire] Ripper fears are raised, but not confirmed as yet.

Grace 'bashing' Russell Harty.

I phoned Ally at 4. She has provisionally booked an apartment at Agios Nikolaos, Crete, from June 24, '81, for two weeks. I am astounded at her speed and efficiency. However, when she arrived at 7:30 she looked dejected saying she cannot afford a Greek holiday. Saving money is a bore and a strain, I'd prefer a fortnight in Whitby.

Watched a gruelling play on TV and saw Grace Jones bashing Russell Harty on his pathetic TV chat show.

To bed at 12:30.

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Monday November 17, 1980

Lady Diana: fever grows.

_. Lady Diana Spencer fever grows. I saw her tonight for the first time on TV. The six o'clock news on the BBC showed the poor girl besieged outside her flat, bombarded with questions as she fumbled for her car keys, eventually driving away beaming all over her face. The poor girl. I think this really means business. The morning papers say she was at Sandringham over the weekend. But as a note of caution let us not forget that Sandringham is her birthplace and home, and she has close ties to the Queen. Another bloody red herring? I am trying to view the situation objectively. Mum says they'll be engaged by Thursday, but Dad's opinion is that it will never happen because the Prince of Wales is a confirmed bachelor. Obviously, Dad doesn't know what he's talking about.

YP busy. Carol J left 'with a cold' at 12:30. That is the last we'll see of her until pay day. A new boy on the YP staff, I discover, is the son of the ghastly former Home Secretary, Merlyn Rees, a Leeds MP. We are really scraping the barrel these days. On the subject of MPs it was interesting to see Sir Harold Wilson speaking on 'Panorama' this evening. His opinion is that the Labour party fell to pieces when he resigned the leadership. He described Peter Shore as his 'poodle' and scoffed about Michael Foot. Harold tends to regard himself as a god, I think.

Mum and Dad went to Auntie Mabel's from 6:30-11:30. I half-heartedly watched TV. Lady Diana was on every news bulletin. I like her pleasant demeanour and obvious good mannered gentleness.

I phoned Ally. She was washing and brewing. I offered to buy her a dress. Auntie Hilda phoned for John's address. She is sending out Silver wedding invitations.

To bed at 12:15.

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