Friday December 12, 1980

_. A day of tranquil repose. Ally was up and off to work at 8 and I slept until she phoned me at 11:30. For a couple of hours I attempted to clean up some of the devastation but a pounding head made me give in at 1pm. Ally came home for lunch. I was slumped on the settee  getting an 'ear full' of Elgar's 'Enigma Variations'. She quickly had a salad and returned to her work at the AHA. I went back to bed until 4:30. I am so pleased I had the foresight to arrange a day off. No way could I have turned up at the YP.

We had a cosy tea together and out we went at 9 to the Belfry where she deposited her waitress uniform and collected £11 holiday pay. Chuffed to arseholes about this. On to a gay celebration in the New Inn. Our usual Friday evening burst of raucous pleasure. The regular inhabitants of Guiseley and Yeadon were making merry. Saw Dave Wainwright, Johnny, Ken, &c.

Ally has decided to throw a party on Boxing Day evening. That part of Christmas can become so boring. The turkey is gone, and the TV is spewing out old film after old film to a snoozing public. 

Home at 11:30. Mum and Dad have upset stomachs. What's worse is Hilda is suffering too. Ally immediately blames herself, and for a couple of hours I persuaded her not to.

-=-

Thursday December 11, 1980

_. Out at lunchtime to Safeways to buy food for tonight's orgy of cousins and aunts. Spent £4 for nothing. Straight to Ally's at 5, and spent three hours decorating the sitting room for Christmas. The walls bedecked in balloons and a little tree flashed in a corner, sparkling with a hundred balls. In the midst of this grotto-building we broke off to buy booze at Morrisons. 

The first to arrive at 8 [as I climbed out of the bath] was Karen and Steve. They are not too upset about the murdered Pudsey landlady - a close friend. Next came Mum, Dad, Jim, Margaret, Lynn, Dave, Sue, Pete, Hilda, Tony, Mabel, Diane, Paul who completed the party. Sprog Cottage packed like the Black Hole of Calcutta. Drank gallons and ate heartily. 

An amiable party in every way. The flashing Christmas tree lights caused no offence, and the tapes of John Lennon's hits were well received. Margaret said, dryly, that she'd never liked John Lennon, but that shooting him was taking it a bit too far. Certain persons were expecting an engagement announcement from Ally and I but none came. After they'd all left at 1am Ally was floored by a falling tin from a kitchen cupboard. We retired at 3.

-=-

Wednesday December 10, 1980

_. On to Leeds from Bradford at 8. A dull day. Every paper full of Lennon's end. Phoned Mum when the news came into the office that Mrs Clay, the wife of the landlord of the Royal pub in Pudsey, had been murdered at Dewsbury Railway station. The Royal is a Karen and Steve stronghold and they'll certainly know the unfortunate dame. Is she perhaps the 14th Ripper victim? 

Phoned Ally too. She came over at 7:30. Coronation Street is really gripping at the moment. Poor Emily has discovered that she's living with a bigamist ['Bigamy? Lady this is bigger than the both of us!]. 

Dave G phoned just to make sure Saturday is still on. Spent the night with Ally in the kitchen mixing pizza pie, and juggling with tarts and flans. By 11 I had had quite enough. Felt buggered. 

Frankie Howerd was on the telly tonight [whilst we were cooking in the kitchen] and we could hear Mum roaring with laughter. I think I can say Frankie is one of the few people who never fails to leave her in fits. Another one is Uncle Harry, but where is he?

Watched a programme on the life of Max Miller and retired to bed at 12:30 where I now sit listening to the rain on the window as I read John Lennon's obituary in the Times. 

-=-

Tuesday December 9, 1980

_. Gloom abounds. Phoned Ally at 7:30 to get her out of her snug, pink bed and she shocked me by announcing that John Lennon, the Beatle, has been shot dead by a mad man in New York. Such a tragic end to a life of genius. For the remainder of the day I was in a state of shock. The Beatles are an important part of our lives and the loss of John Lennon brought memories of childhood flooding back. Those brilliant songs and tunes are engraved on all our hearts. It's obvious that his death has hit everyone. Someone in the office said we are making more of this than both Kennedy assassinations rolled into one, but I do think that Lennon deserves the obsequies befitting a King.

To Ally's at 6. She has bought me the new David Bowie LP as a thank you for my decorating services at Club Street. She spent the evening cleaning and I listened to Mike Read's Lennon tribute on Radio One until 10. Ate fish and chips afterwards and went about with a paint brush touching up here and there.

I have been reflective and subdued tonight. The loss of the occasional superstar moves me immensely.

-=-

Monday December 8, 1980

_. Bitterly cold ... again. YP industrious, but uneventful. Ally has a new girl working in her office, Gillian by name.

Spoke to JPH and Maria tonight. The little boy loves his sister. When Mum referred to her as 'a scamp' JPH barked back: 'Oh no she isn't!' He wants a combined harvester from Santa Claus and a garage with cars. The poor boy's been posting letters up his chimney addressed to the Christmas fairy.

Ally came to tea. Provisions have arrived for her bedroom decor. Pink bedding and curtains. She stayed until 9 and then went back to Lidget Green to festoon her boudoir with the new finery.

Read 'Desperate Remedies' by Thomas Hardy. I found 'The Trumpet Major' immensely readable, and intend reading the complete works of Mr Hardy. Sarah insists he is dull and heavy going, but I disagree. In fact I'm going straight over to my latest book now.

News: Mrs Thatcher's been to Eire. Poland isn't jubilant about a possible Russian invasion. The Prince of Wales is now in Nepal. Does King Birendra have a sister?

-=-

Sunday December 7, 1980

_. 2nd Sunday in Advent

Bitterly cold. Carole is perfectly well [according to Maria]. Sue has heard from Mick Lynch that the baby is to be Jo Louise. Lynch, it seems, has returned to the Lynch nest and Carole has returned to Oakridge Avenue, and the clutches of Margaret Phillips.

Daubed gloss paint all afternoon and finished the small bedroom. Ally fell down the stairs and hurt her back [not seriously] but sat pale and uncomfortable for the remainder of the evening.

To dinner with Mummy and Daddy at 6. Lamb, roast potatoes, &c, followed by lemon meringue pie. A delicious candlelit dinner. Watched TV afterwards, and the late film entitled 'Bring Me the Head of Alfredo Garcia'. Mum and Ally had retired at 11:30. Ally is convinced she is now crippled by her fall.


-=-

Saturday December 6, 1980

_. Very cold. Up at 11. To Bradford with Ally. Paint until nearly 4 and then on to Guy Watson's where we bought John and Maria an oil lamp [£10] for Christmas. To Harry Ramsden's for tea.

We collected Dave L at 8:30 and took him to the Fox & Hounds, Menston Arms and New Inn. Such a good evening. David has such a vivid imagination, he brightens the dullest bar.

Slept at Guiseley. Pine Tops, like an Edwardian country house, with Ally and I padding around like 'Harty Tarty' and 'Skittles'. Oh, yes.

Jayne Waite is pregnant again [3rd], and Helen Malin pregnant [1st]. Must be something in the air.

-=-

Friday December 5, 1980

_. No Shazzo today. Kathleen banged around in the office threatening war. The Russians could do with having Kathleen on their side. She makes Leonid Brezhnev look like Liberace. Home at 6.

Mum and Dad went out for a 'drive' leaving me with mounds of chips and a couple in insipid fishcakes.

Ally came at 8 and we went to the Queen's on Apperley Lane - dead. We laughed nervously as though we were in Rheims Cathedral, not a boozer. After one drink we moved on to the Drop, which was friendly. Mrs Hanson always makes such a fuss of us both. Finally, at 10:30 to the New Inn, always noisy, bright and like an orgy.

I am relieved we have not committed ourselves re the '81 holiday because we are happy and cheerful without worrying about the £300 each. Besides, I've had enough of San Antonio and I prefer the idea of a new pair of shoes and a pot flying pig. Home to watch 'Soap'.


-=-

Thursday December 4, 1980

_. Cold. Traumatic arrival at the office. Kathleen had raised her voice at Shazzo, at which the girl had fled in hysterics from the office locking herself in the toilets for over an hour. At 9:30 she emerged, very tear-stained, and attempted to escape from the YP with her bags. Sarah played a brilliant and spontaneous 'Henry Kissinger' and appeased the bereft Miss Cohen. I sat, wide eyed, at the skill of Sarah's United Nations-like manoeuvre. Shazzo was silent for the rest of the day, but at least we held her.

Onward to Rue Club at 5. Looked for the [Yorkshire] Ripper en route but saw nothing of him. I mused to myself as I journeyed along the dreary city streets that I was in the possession of a very large pair of menacing decorating scissors which would have looked highly suspicious had I been accosted and searched by the boys in blue.

At Ally's I put oyster paint all over her walls. Back to the New Inn for a few drinks before joining Mum and Dad with Jim and Margaret. Ally stayed over.

-=-

Wednesday December 3, 1980

_. To Ally's after the YP and spent the evening hanging wallpaper in the small bedroom. A job well done.Afterwards we sat eating a very weak, meatless soup, washed down with lager. I ache all over from the strain suffered stretching up the walls. I feel like the victim of some medieval torture, the type frequently deployed in the bowels of Pontefract Castle on unfortunate Plantagenet monarchs.

During dinner we suffered the trauma of a telephone call from Mrs Pinder, mother of the infamous John. She was ringing, she said, just for 'a Christmas chat', and went on to inform Ally that John had married Mrs Susan Say, in November, 1979, and they have since had a daughter, Emma, and that they now have a pub in Dorchester. Poor Ally went decidedly pale, but held her composure. _____. Ally always refers to his woman as 'Mrs Say' - her Christian name sticks in Ally's throat.

Listened to music and retired to bed at 12 feeling knackered.

-=-

Tuesday December 2, 1980

_. In my hideous misery yesterday I failed to mention that the former Christine Braithwaite telephoned me regarding ad advert on Friday's YP. She is now living in Burley Woodhead in a rented farm house near the Hermit pub. Sounds opulent.

To Leeds with with Jim, Muriel, Patrick and Jennie - the whole family no less. He refused to discuss his car accident and bit Muriel's head off when she mentioned it. He is acutely sorry for himself.

Mulley: nodded off.

Merlyn Rees's son has spent the day with us receiving library induction treatment from Kathleen. He laughed when I showed him photos of Fred Mulley, then Labour Defence minister under Callaghan, who nodded off while sitting next to the Queen at an air display in 1977. Rees's comment was that this simple slip lost Mulley the chance of attaining glittering high office. Sarcasm, obviously.

Spoke to Ally a few times and received a lovely letter. I am going over to decorate tomorrow. It's long overdue. She is reading a biography of Sarah Bernhardt, someone of whom I know little other than the fact that she frequently slept with Edward VII. But who didn't?

News: Lady Diana Spencer's mother has written to The Times criticising the press for harrassing her daughter from dawn until dusk. I quite agree with her. It's shameful. She also criticised the ridiculous so-called quotes reputedly to have come from Lady Diana and refers to them as 'lies'. Mrs Shand Kydd also mentions the 'Royal Train incident'. Meanwhile HRH is still in India. It is also announced that he will be visiting New Zealand in the Spring.

In other news: Russia will probably invade Poland within the month, by way of a Christmas present. They did Afghanistan at Christmas last year.