Friday July 17, 1981

 _. Full Moon

Bright, wet and British. Kissed my wife on the doorstep at 7:45 and ran for the bus. 

Shazzo flew to Turkey and obscurity this morning. It will be the end of her.

The Warrington by-election: Roy Jenkins slashed the Labour majority from 10,000 to 2,000. Hoyle only narrowly held the seat and Jenkins won 42 per cent of the vote. People are now saying that we could have an SDP government in 1984. God help us. I want to see Mrs Thatcher go on. I may be a lone voice but that's my opinion.

Ally's boss, Derek Jenkins, yesterday attended a Buckingham Palace garden party, and over his tea today, all dewy-eyed, he enthused over his sighting of Lady Diana Spencer. The girl is already making her mark, and by the time she's 25 she'll be more than capable of taking over from the 'Queen Mum' as our national treasure.

Humber Bridge opening.

Home at 6. We giggle a good deal. We ate very simply. The deep fryer came out and we had eggs and chips. On our snowy TV screen we could just make out the Queen opening the Humber Bridge. Isn't it a waste of money?

Ally did some ironing, the stuff from the holiday. She asks 'what will Lady Di do with her hair on the wedding day?' It will be wrapped around a tiara, surely?

 
I went over to the off licence and bought a bottle of cheap sherry. We half-heartedly watched tv. Isn't marriage exhausting?

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Thursday July 16, 1981

 _. Frank went for an interview in Birmingham yesterday, and turned down the offer of regional director of Barclays in the Midlands.

Opening my YP this morning I read with horror an article 'Dalesman calls time on his pub - at 87'. The Stonehouse Inn is to be sold at auction on August 18. It would appear that Mum and Dad's supposed 'agreement' is non existent. Mother, aghast, phoned her solicitor. My parents are over a barrel here. What the Deacons are doing is perfectly legal but bad form. The whole thing is making them very weary. I will be glad when Aug 18 has been and gone and they can get on with their future plans.

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Wednesday July 15, 1981

 _. St Swithun's Day

Ally and her father.

Our next door neighbour, 'Britt' Greenwood is 93 today. Born in 1888. Victoria still had over a decade to reign, and Britain was at the height of Empire.

Home to the cosiness of Ash Tree Cottage at 6. Mum and Dad came at 8 for dinner. Mushroom soup, meat balls and red peppers followed by strawberries and cream, then cheese and biscuits. Afterwards to studied the proofs of the wedding photos. They are very worried about the Stonehouse project.

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Tuesday July 14, 1981

Metro card mug shot.

 _. At lunch I walked into town and bought at Metro card to use on the bus. At the moment I'm spending £1.82 on bus fares, i.e. £10 for the five day week. The Metro card cost £24.20 for a month.

Home at 6. Susie phoned to ask how my wife is treating me. She also wanted to know whether our grandad Rhodes was a twin. Indeed he was, but the other sibling died at birth. Is she perhaps thinking that twins are on the way and she wants a family precedent?

Phoned Mama. She and Papa are coming to dinner tomorrow, bringing proofs of our wedding photographs from Jack Simon. Ally is slightly peeved that everyone has seen our wedding photos before we have.

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Monday July 13, 1981

 _. Bank Holiday in Ireland

Back to the YP. 

This evening we dined on steak and strawberries, washed down with Champagne. Bessie phoned and spoke to Ally for half an hour. Later this week Frank is going for an interview in Birmingham [something big in Barclays].

The riots have abated, at least for the time being. Dad is on constant stand by and is working 12 hour shifts.

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Sunday July 12, 1981

 _. 4th Sunday after Trinity 

We were awakened at 5am by the Greek chap in the hotel reception. We were showered and dressed by 5:30. A jovial taxi driver piled us into his cab with a couple of overweight, fragrant French ladies and took us to the international airport. Bye Bye Athens, and farewell to Greece.

We flew out at 7:40am. The usual sort of flight. We ignored everyone and devoted the journey to our books. They gave us a breakfast of bacon and beans, and I washed it down with several whiskies. Landed at Manchester at 9:30. David G was waving at us from the public gallery, and he drove us to Stockport. On the way he told us that things have been going mad in the UK. Widespread rioting and looting has swept the major cities since last weekend. As we travelled along we saw smashed windows, wrecked petrol pumps, &c. He says Moss Side is devastated. Back at the Hollywood we phoned Mum, Lynn and Dave and they came over at 1pm to take us home. Jim Glynn came downstairs for the first time in two weeks having been very ill. He looked shocking. Lynn and Dave appeared with baby Frances [her first visit to a public house]. Jim sat gurgling at her over his half of Guinness. Dave G goes to Ibiza next week.

Back at Club Street I carried Ally over the threshhold. Lynn had placed bunting in the windows. A lovely return home. The house full of wedding presents. We had a couple of drinks and then drove to Guiseley. Dad is on a 12 hour riot shift. Poor Mama is very upset about the Stonehouse. Godfrey has given them until Aug 5 to raise the money and if that cannot be achieved then the the property is to be sold at auction. Very sad. Pine Tops could sell any day but until it does they are hog tied. Sue and Peter came. She is very pale and finds food a hardship.

We left Mum on her own at 12:30 and returned to Club Street.

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Saturday July 11, 1981

Rooftop view.

 _. Our pleasant little hotel manager gave us an alarm call at 7am and we took breakfast for the last time at the Armadoros. Boiled eggs and jam and bread. We went to the jetty in the harbour and sat on a sack of potatoes waiting for our ferry. Philip and Gill joined us and we said our goodbyes, promising to meet them in the White Cross soon. The Lemnos ferry came at 9 and we sailed off into the Aegean waving frantically at our friends. What followed was nine hours up on deck casting our critical eye over the other characters on board with us. I finished reading 'Eye of the Needle'. Ally nodded off but was awakened with a start by a fat Irish woman struggling past to buy her eighth ice cream. We arrived at Piraeus at 6:30 and took a taxi to the Hotel Aphrodite in the Plaka area of Athens. We dumped our things and made our way to the roof garden, six storeys up, to observe the distant Acropolis. Ally was unimpressed by the Greek panorama. She didn't like the scaffolding. I didn't help by making banal comments, like 'it'll be nice when it's finished', &c. Back on the ground we walked to the Parliament building and laughed at the guards doing their ludicrous prancing march. The presidential palace reminded me of Sainsbury's in Gloucester.  A meal followed in a street cafe in the Plaka. Sloppy moussaka. I bought a couple of paperbacks for the homeward flight. We were back in the hotel at 12.

Waiting for the ferry.

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Friday July 10, 1981

Blurred: the church

 _. A day on Koumbara beach with Philip and Gill. 'The Eye of the Needle' is a very absorbing book. Returned to the Armadoros at 6 and packed our suitcase. AAARGGHHH!!! Hideous to think we are saying goodbye to Ios tomorrow. I shall forever love this place.

The town tonight was more crowded than usual. A local told us that the last weeks in July are unbearable. We found a new and quiet bar, but Philip and Gill were snuggling in the corner, and so we joined them at a table. Phil says they'll come and bid us farewell in the morning.

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Thursday July 9, 1981

 _. Day at the beach. Philip and Gillian were in the bar. The poor beggars had been stranded in a tiny boat off Santorini since Sunday, with no money or change of clothing. It was day trip which turned into a nightmare. The weather prevented the boat from returning to Ios. We had thought of accompanying them. 

We met Philip and Gill again this evening, but after knocking back ouzo I returned to the hotel and was violenetly sick. I had been eating squid, and so you require little or no imagination to envisage the sight of the bathroom.

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Wednesday July 8, 1981

 _. Back to it. To the beach. I have a funny, bloated tummy. No appetite. Why? We retired to bed early after a walk around the harbour. I could go on and on about the Irish tourists in the hotel, but I'm on honeymoon and aren't honeymooners supposed to be oblivious to everyone and everything but each other?

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Tuesday July 7, 1981

 _. Up at 10 for breakfast in the hotel. ___________.Exiting the restaurant Ally suddenly looked like death and she fainted on the stairs just as the manager was coming down carrying a bed. I carried her, out cold, to room 45 [our love nest], where we passed the remainder of the day. Tranquility. I went out this evening and bought a couple of paperbacks. 'The Inheritors' by Harold Robbins, and Ken Follet's 'The Eye of the Needle'. 

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