Saturday March 21, 1981

 _. Supposedly Spring. Up at 6:45am. Ally is feeling a little better. Life without Dixie would be like plants without flowers.

Shazzo was in the office this morning but, after doing absolutely nothing, left at 12, leaving me indexing a dismal YP. 

Ally collected me at 1:45. Pouring rain. Neither of us were in excellent humour. Ally wanted to go shopping for shoes, and wedding shoes at that, in monsoon rain and overcrowded streets. Whilst in Stylo, looking for cousin Jill, she spotted a pair of pretty white shoes, and without further ado purchased them. We bought a plant in Leeds Market before heading on, quite bedraggled, to Menston, where I collected a morning suit from 'Charles' the tailor. It's an excellent gentleman's outfitters. 

Home to Pine Tops for dinner. Rabbit pie. Afterwards I fell asleep to the sound of clicking knitting needles, and Lana Turner on the telly. I was told afterwards that my snoring ruined the Hollywood epic.

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Friday March 20, 1981

 _. Full Moon

Peter is 23 today.I bought him a ridiculous miniature dart-board from a toy shop and a small bottle of Cointreau.

Ally came at 6. Sue and Pete had taken the day off and were just leaving Pine Tops with Lynn and Dave. Ally just missed seeing them by a few minutes. She'd been to Town Gate to look at a house called Phoenix Cottage, up for sale at £25,000. I spotted it a few days ago, and because I mentioned it she assumed I wanted to buy it. This has made her think that I am dissatisfied with Sprog Cottage at Lidget Green, which of course I am not. I look forward to living in Bradford, especially now that the MP Edward Lyons, QC, MP, has joined the Social Democrats. Surely, anything is better than Labour? 

Ally and I went to Sue and Pete's with birthday presents. Pete is more like Basil Fawlty than John Cleese is these days. To the White Cross. Ally felt unwell. Went to Club Street and watched TV in bed. I watched as she snored.

Mum and Dad went to the Stonehouse Inn tonight. Old George is in bed with bronchial pneumonia, and probably won't get out of it alive. His daughters are just waiting for him to go so that they can return to the civilisation of Oxfordshire. They cannot understand why Mum and Dad want to live in such a remote backwater.

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Thursday March 19, 1981

 _. Audrey the car is still at the sick car hospital in Lidget Green, but we hope she'll be well by tomorrow.

I did some shopping at lunchtime and bought a packet of fish in shrimp sauce. This was silly because for the same price [£1.06] I could have bought a nice piece of meat. 

To Club Street at 6. Spent a pleasant evening. Ally in a daft mood. We gooned around fabulously. She has received a card from Graham and Charlotte confirming their visit. I concocted a wild reply mentioning Ally's latest craze, sheep impressions, telling them that at that very moment she was impersonating a Shropshire ewe giving birth. I adore mad letters, but rarely receive them. If only I could write to myself? [I suppose that keeping a journal is writing to ones self]. 

Watched Orwell's 'Brave New World', the second and final part. Endured Robin Day, and went to bed at 12.

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Wednesday March 18, 1981

 _. Rain, bloody wind. Phoned Susie at 11:30 for ideas for Peter's birthday present. She suggests a dart board. Is he perhaps going soft in the head?

Sarah phoned Kathleen today and was stunned to hear from our beloved, absent ayatollah that she intends to return to rule over us once more from Monday. She wasn't going to inform us of her return, and must have planned to appear back in the office disguised as batch of last Tuesday's Whitby Gazette. We conspired not to tell Carol J of Kathleen's return. Our spiteful deed of the day.

The naughty child-molesting diplomat has been named in the Commons as Sir Peter Telford Hayman, KCMG, CVO, MBE, High Commissioner to Canada 1970-74, educated at Oxford, and if not actually living in Surrey I am sure he must be close by. The poor Queen must shudder with horror at the characters paraded before her at numerous Buckingham Palace investitures. If she isn't already wearing rubber gloves I strongly advise Her Majesty to start doing so.

Spoke to Ally three times. Received a confirmation of our holiday booking from Denise. Ally says Bessie is working herself into a frenzy about Graham's wedding on March 28. 'Where will Uncle Alan sleep?' 'Will Frank and Barbara be comfortable in a caravan?'

Jacq phoned and invited us to a party at Rodley on April 11 - Paul's birthday. I didn't mention our wedding. I couldn't think of what to say. Ally didn't like this when I told her of the conversation. It's as if I am ashamed of our wedding plans. Obviously, this is not how I feel.

Home at 6. Had kidneys and rice. Watched 'Lloyd George' part 3. 

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Tuesday March 17, 1981

 _. St Patrick's Day ~ Bank Holiday in N. Ireland & Republic of Ireland

After five years in the tiny bedroom at the front of the house I have returned to the back bedroom, which I occupied in the distant days of my early youth ~ those halycon days.

A most unsatisfactory day. I felt particularly violent this afternoon and could have throttled Carol J. 

Spoke to Ally several times. She's reading 'The Murder of Roger Ackroyd'. Home at 6 to find my bed in transit, and after dinner of dead sheep, I spent the evening midst the memorabilia and dust, but didn't discard anything. Mummy infuriates me at times like this. She was positively vitriolic.

Lynn and Dave made a surprise visit at 8 and stayed a couple of hours. Mum says Lynn has lost weight following her latest check up, peculiar for someone so close to confinement. They were both quiet. In fact Dave is positively mute these days.

Phoned Ally at 8. An endearing exchange. 

The Prince of Wales has succumbed to yet another fall. This horse will have to go. On the news tonight we saw the Prince and Lady Diana at a state banquet at Buckingham Palace for the President of Nigeria. Filing in to dinner ~ Princess Margaret linking arms with Lord Hailsham, and the Queen Mother cuddling the Archbishop of Canterbury.

Watched a documentary on Ernest Bevin, who was born 100 years ago this month. It's interesting watching old news reels to see how everybody in the 1930s, 40s and 50s appear to have been chain smokers. At the line-up of Attlee's Cabinet in 1945 it's hard to identify any of the ministers for the thick cloud of smog.

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Monday March 16, 1981

 _. Sunny start, but a slight fall of snow afterwards. A day closeted at the YP.

Up at 7. Ally drove off to a garage in Shipley where Audrey is to receive several days of treatment. She spent the evening cleaning her carpets, bottling ale, and of course knitting. We didn't see each other, but I phoned at 8pm.

Peter Patel, a grocer of Pakistani origin, and a good friend of Hilda and Tony's via the Liberal party network, was killed in a motor accident last week. Hilda and Tony attended the funeral on Friday, the only 'whites' amongst the 400-plus mourners. Hilda, it is reported, was ushered up to the open coffin to the sight of the unfortunate Mr Patel reclining with two coconuts, supposedly placed there as a sign of wealth. The poor man was only 39. 

The Conservative MP for Kings Lynn has fallen out with Mrs Thatcher over the recent budget and has crossed the floor of the House of Commons to join the Social Democrats. A little man, writing in a letter to the Times, suggests that Mrs T might not even be PM at the next budget. Poppycock. Who does he think might be at the helm if such a coup d'etat takes place? I see nobody of stature, other than Giles Shaw, the MP for Pudsey. Ha ha ha.  Another MP, Geoffrey Dickens, is to name a top ranking diplomat in the Commons tomorrow afternoon for an alleged cover-up with a paedophile organisation. One thing's for sure. He'll be a KCMG; he'll be Oxbridge; he'll live in Surrey; his wife will be clad in a twin set and pearls; he'll wear a fur hat, stink of cologne, and talk with a lisp.

The Prince of Wales was thrown from his new horse in a race on Friday as Lady Diana, the Queen Mother and Princess Margaret looked on. He really should abandon racing until his princess has sons.

They are sending the Queen Mother to Canada in July to calm the situation there. Things look sticky on the subject of the North America Act 1867. Some Canadians may want independence now but come July they'll be hurling themselves at the Queen Mother like Jeremy Thorpe at the Vienna Boys Choir. Crude, but true. 

Dined with Mum and Dad. Bed 11:30.

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Sunday March 15, 1981

 _. 2nd Sunday in Lent

Woke up early with a crashing headache. Took a couple of asprin and climbed back into the pink bed. The room looks like a marshmallow, you know. We eventually surfaced at 12. I paid a visit to the corner shop to buy a loaf. Lunch turned out to be tinned spaghetti on toast. 

At 3 we drove to the Stonehouse Inn, where we had a short walk, and then went on to Otley. A neurotic sheep leapt out at us from a bush and attempted to gore the car. I took the wheel and bombed through suburbia like Carlos Reutemann at Brands Hatch.

Dinner with Ally [a mass of curls, and wearing new pink shoes] and Mum and Dad. Liver. A chilled lemon sweet, divine. Ally and Mama sat knitting afterwards. Watched Glenda Jackson playing Elizabeth I, on the BBC. It looked really dated. Yes, I know it's supposed to look Elizabethan. I didn't mean that. It's 10 years old.

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Saturday March 14, 1981

 _. We didn't get up until 10:30. Whilst Ally dressed I packed piles of sandwiches, mainly salad, in readiness for our excursion to York. We head out to the northern capital at about 12 and we spent the afternoon trailing around the shops looking at books, china, and lots of shoes. We bought Graham and Gill a decanter and six wine glasses from Habitat and gloated over the numerous things we'd love to buy but cannot afford. 

At 4:30 we drove, with our picnic, to a lay-by near Acaster Malbis, where we ate and drank something called Pony [it's like sherry]. Half way through an egg sandwich I looked to my left at a gnarled and ancient five barred gate. Hanging from the said gate were seven or eight used Durex, arrayed like trophies, left no doubt by some randy farm boy, following steamy sessions with a local barmaid. Ally howled with laughter.

We returned to Guiseley and sat until about 10. Ally is obsessed with knitting. By the look of things it's a theraputic pastime. Her face take on a certain serenity, a tranquil countenance, which I haven't detected before. Mum and Dad came in at about 8 and we ate by candlelight.

Later Ally and I went to Pudsey to see Jill and Tim [I didn't phone them until 9], and the four of us went to the White Cross in Pudsey, and then back to Wilsby. Jill and Tim collect the keys to their house in April, and want to marry in August or September. We sat drinking cloudy ale and apple wine until after 1. Back to Rue Club.

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Friday March 13, 1981

 _. Friday the Thirteenth. John and Maria were married in mist and gloom on this day five years ago. We sent cards of remembrance to Scotland.

Frantic day at the YP. _____. The chairman of United Newspapers, Lord Barnetson, has snuffed it at the age of 63. No doubt Gordon Linacre was on the early train to London to grab all he can. Mark my words, he'll soon be Lord Linacre of Bramhope. 

To Ally's at 6. Helped her prepare dinner for Mum & Dad who arrived at 7:30. Mum looked good in the chiffon dress she wore at Sue and Pete's wedding. There she was in her white fur coat peeping through the door. Ally says Dad becomes more quiet every time she sees him. He has never been what you might call a circus act, bounding with joy, but he was quiet and inobtrusive through the Queensland cocktail [avocado and crab], chicken sweet and sour, followed by meringues and strawberries. Scrumptious. They left at 12.

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Thursday March 12, 1981

 _. Yesterday the Evening Post carried my article about Lady Diana's black dress at the top of the front page, including the pics of the Queen by Dorothy Wilding, and the recent one of Lady Diana. Impressive. Fred [Willis] winked, and said: 'You're on the list.' Whatever that means. It could be a death list. I simply don't know. 

On to Club St at 6pm. The bus journey was hazardous because of the pollution caused by the smoking Bradfordians on the upper deck of the 72 Leeds-Bradford bus. By the time I arrived at Ally's I felt like one of those Beagles from an animal research laboratory, and covered in a thick layer of fag ash. 

We had fish and chips from 'Mother Hubbard's' - not too greasy this time, and afterwards watched Top of the Pops and 'Brave New World', part one. 

Ally spent the evening going over the house with a duster and the Hoover in preparation for Mum and Dad's coming visit. I did point out that they are my parents, not Mr & Mrs Peter Shand Kydd, but she didn't let up. At about 10:30 we both sat down before the 'snowy' telly to watch Sir Geoffrey Howe defending his Budget. Is it perhaps his last? By next year the occupant of No. 11 could well be a 'wet' and Mrs Thatcher might be on the back benches licking her wounds. Or am I going in the wrong direction? I do hope I am wrong.

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Wednesday March 11, 1981

 _. Sunny day. Left the YP at 12. How splendid it is, to be able to take a 'half day'. Ally joined me at 1pm and we trundled over to Horsforth to pay £115 to Denny for the Ios honeymoon, and then did a bit of shopping at Morrison's. We collected Lynn at 4:30 and brought her over to Pine Tops for dinner - prawn curry. Lashings of wine. At 7:30 Ally and I went [in drizzle] to Pudsey to see Auntie Mabel. She had her gas fire belting out like Port Talbot Steelworks. We had supper and went on to Club St at 11.

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