Friday July 24, 1981

 _. At 10am I went to the office and collected my wage packet, snatched the money and left for Bradford straight afterwards. Back there for 12. Having a relapse. Felt hot, clammy. Met Ally in 'Sir Jasper's' wine bar, but felt diabolical and didn't finish my drink. 

Garter for Diana?

At home I slumped on the settee watching Sid James and Hattie Jacques in 'Carry On Cabby' [1963]. I must have fallen asleep because Ally woke me at 5:30. I continued to lay in a semi recumbent posture for the duration of the evening, which aroused nothing but sympathy and love from my dear wife.

At 9:30 she crossed the road and bought me fish and chips, and afterwards we took to our bed. My recovery is very slow, don't you think?

Royal news: It is rumoured that Lady Diana Spencer is to become a Lady of the Garter after the wedding on Wednesday. Princess Elizabeth and the Duke of Edinburgh were both appointed to the order on the eve of their wedding in November, 1947, and so a precedent does exist. However, Queen Alexandra, Queen Mary, and Queen Elizabeth The Queen Mother didn't receive the Garter until they became Queen Consort.

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Thursday July 23, 1981

 _. Rained all day. Lounging with a book. 

Diana: a little flat.

Ally came in at 12:30 weighed down with 'just a few things' of shopping to the value of £9. Money goes nowhere these days.

Ally was home at 5. We had sandwiches and watched the news. Bryan Organ's portrait of Lady Diana Spencer, the first official one, was unveiled at the National Portrait Gallery today. It's a little flat, or lifeless, if you know what I mean. Certainly, Peter Paul Rubens wouldn't rate it.

To Pine Tops tonight to see Mum, Dad, Jim, and Margaret. Joined by Sue for a couple of hours. She has been back to the doctor. He says he's 'made a mistake' in his calculations and that baby 'Jason' is due on December 28. Pete was of course out with the lads. Hot. Didn't drink too much. Home after 11.

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Wednesday July 22, 1981

 _. Another hot, sweaty night but my throat has eased. Poor Ally didn't want to get out of bed today, and clung to her pillows. Boiled eggs and coffee, then she was gone until 12:15. She returned skipping like a Spring lamb. 

I made several phone calls this afternoon. Phoned Mum, spoke to Dad, and Lynn. Jacq and Paul are dining at Burley tonight. Mum is feeling slightly better. It's her nerves, you know. The deadline for the Stonehouse is just two weeks away.

Read 'The Murder of Roger Ackroyd'. I first read it years ago. One of Agatha's best. It's quite eerie how Agatha can make one suspicious of grey haired old ladies behind lace curtains. Old Miss Whincup over the road was peering at me from behind her nets this afternoon. A Miss Marple sort of thing.

Petal came home at 5. We had corn on the cob, and fried fish and chips, then made pancakes from the left over batter, soaked with lemon juice and sugar. We do eat very well.

Royal wedding fever grips the TV news. This Gibraltar furore is a shame. We don't want diplomatic incidents at this joyous time. The Prince of Wales had a 'stag party' tonight at White's Club. He and 12 friends noshing from 8 until 12, swilling Bollinger champagne [his favourite]. The royal wedding postage stamps went on sale today too. But, alas, the Queen Mother is in bed with a temperature, they say, after a leg infection.

After our sumptious dinner we sat reading until 11.

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Tuesday July 21, 1981

 Susie Nason, my baby sister and mother-to-be, is 22 today. I phoned her this evening. She and Pete are entertaining Lynn and Dave tonight.

I lay in bed, burning up. After Ally left for work I phoned the doctor. Ally took an early lunch and drove me to the surgery. The doc took one look and proclaimed: 'Ugh. Tonsilitis'. He told me to go home to bed for the week, and packed me off with enough medication to see me through until 2067.

Ally went out looking at washing machines. The day in nearing when Ally's smalls will be a spinnin' and a tumblin' in our little kitchen. She has survived without this 20th century invention since 1979.

Tomato soup for lunch. I sat reading Agatha Christie's 'Nemesis'. 'Sleeping Death', which I read in Ios was excellent. This isn't up to standard. My medication has had an immediate effect. My throat is relieved.

Mama remains in bed with her tummy problem.

News: The King of Spain is to boycott the royal wedding because the Prince of Wales and his bride are starting their honeymoon on Britannia sailing into Gibraltar. Stupid sod [The King of Spain that is].

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Monday July 20, 1981

 _. Up at 6:45 feeling weak and wobbly. Burning throat. Foolishly I took the bus to Leeds where Sarah took one look at me and packed me off home. I staggered back in at 10 clutching a damp copy of the Times, and fell into bed where I remained for the rest of the day. 

Ursula: grappling.

Ally came home for lunch at 1pm and she brought mugs of tomato soup upstairs. I lay there in a sweat all afternoon. Ursula Andress was on the telly in the film 'She' based on the novel by H Rider Haggard. In my delirium I was grappling with the comely Miss Andress as she dragged me to the fiery pit.

Ally was back at 5 and we had scrambled eggs on toast, followed by strawberries and cream. It was all I could manage. Phoned Mum. She is also in bed, but with an upset stomach. She says she eats too much. I agree. She was at Giovanni's on Saturday, followed by a large lunch then dinner on Sunday.

Ally came to bed and we watched Coronation Street. I resolved to go see my new doctor tomorrow. I have a raging temperature, and cannot swallow. We've only been married for three weeks and already I am like a cabbage. A hideous night. Sweat.

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Sunday July 19, 1981

 _. 5th Sunday after Trinity

Feeling ill, and steadily worse as they day progressed. A cold. Full of dreadful resignation that I'm smitten with pneumonia. My throat feels like a kangaroos armpit. And, it itsn't because of booze either. I laid in a heap on the settee watching an old film. Ally prepared the dinner for Lynn, Dave and Frances. They came at 7 o'clock, and the baby screamed until 11. We dined at 8:30, carrot soup, goulash, etc. Lynn provided the wine. I gave Dave the £20 I owed him from last year. A dreadful lapse on my part. He did say he thought it was a write-off. Lynn found it hard to relax with Frances's constant wailing. Babies are so trying. Lynn has a hard, short haircut. Not as hideous as one would imagine. Less glamorous, but still Hayley Mills. To bed at 12 feeling atrocious.

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Saturday July 18, 1981

 _. We stayed in bed until noon. Ally fixed the breakfast and I phoned Sue and Lynn. I arranged to meet Sue and Pete in the Woolpack at 9, but Lynn cannot make it. They're going to York.

Wedding proofs.

We went into town and walked around the John St Market, buying kidneys, mince and fish. Home for 3. A Ronald Reagan film was on BBC2. The one with the chimpanzee. Let's hope he makes a better president than an actor. A nauseating film.

Our wedding photos are magnificent. Jack Simon has even managed to make me look like something verging on human. Ally is gorgeous. Like a doll in the best wedding dress.

To Guiseley at 8. The house was deserted. Mum and Dad were dining at Giovanni's. We left a floral tribute inn the kitchen. To Sue and Pete's. They looked at the wedding proofs. To the Woolpack but we left without having a drink. It was too crowded. To the Dog and Gun. That was crowded too. Back to the Fox & Hounds. Saw Andy and Linda Graham there. We finished off at the White Cross. Poor Sue looked ghastly all night. Skin like alabaster. She has been told that her baby isn't due until February 24, but she seems to have early January in mind. After leaving Sue and Pete at 11 we went to Oakwood Hall for a couple of hours. Our first visit in 6 months.

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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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