Tuesday November 10, 1981

 _. At the YP. Gloom. Kathleen was sneezing and so the library was a major quarantine area. Surgical masks. I kid you not. 

Morning papers: The Princess of Wales has been 'under the weather' since her Cenotaph appearance. The EP is treating it very seriously - a tragedy in the making. I did some mournful research for them. Diana's great-grandmother, Margaret, Viscountess Althorp [1869-1906] died in childbirth. The baby survived and married Henry Douglas-Home.

Home at 6. Laid the stair carpet and made the place look a bit less like a Polish refugee camp, or an Afghan guerilla base in the foothills. I placed an old copy of the Times on each step to give the carpet added thickness. It's just like an Axminster now. 

At 11:30pm the phone rang. A voice said: 'Hello Sir. It's Buckingham Palace on the line. Will you accept a call?' It was Steve S. Tim then came on [pissed] to a background of noises reminiscent of Belle Vue Zoo. He was phoning to thank us for the birthday card.

Bed at 12.

-=-

Monday November 9, 1981

 _.To the Central Library at lunchtime. More art books.

No donkey jacket?

The brouhaha over Michael Foot's Cenotaph gaffe received marvellous coverage in the morning papers. One publication likened Foot to an 'Irish navvy' which as you can imagine has upset all the Irish MPs. Mrs Foot, defending her husband, is of the opinion that all great men throughout history have been generally of scruffy appearance. Unsure about this. Did we ever see Napoleon in a donkey jacket and wellies? Cleopatra in pre-shrunk faded jeans? [I was tempted to suggest snakeskin trousers, but that would have been unfair]. Louis XIV was always at home in a boiler suit too. [That's enough scruffy historical figures - Ed].

Home at 6. Continued painting flowers - a vast improvement. Still painting the hallway too. Dave G phoned at 8. He asked us to go to Stockport on Dec 12 to dine at Steak Kebabs.

Bed with Stanley Baldwin.

-=-

Sunday November 8, 1981

 _. 21st Sunday after Trinity - Remembrance Sunday

The phone woke us at 10:30. It was Mum reminding us to watch the remembrance service from the Cenotaph. We sat with eggs on toast watching the age-old ritual from London. The Queen laying yet another wreath. The Princess of Wales was in animated conversation with King Olav of Norway on the balcony of the Home Office. The Queen Mother always has a wistful, teary look on these occasions. The pin-striped Cabinet ministers had front row positions but it was Michael Foot's spectacular appearance upon which every eye focused. The Leader of Her Majesty's Opposition was wearing a shabby duffle coat, buttoned up wrong, and checked tie. And was he wearing Hush Puppies? If his appearance wasn't bad enough, he walked away from the Cenotaph after placing his wreath in the manner of a man leaving a parking meter. No court bow. No reverence. This is the Labour party for you. 

Harry.

Spent the day painting the hall and staircase. Broke off at 4:30 to watch an old film. Henry Fonda [aged 17] in 'Jesse James' [1939]. 

I must say something about Uncle Harry. Last week Uncle Bert went up to Whitehaven from Nottingham to see his brother [Harry], only to find he was away for the weekend with his 25 year-old girlfriend. Harry is 59 and he's apparently taken up with a comely Cumbrian yoga teacher. On finding Harry's mobile home unoccupied Bert didn't hesitate to break in and spend a solitary weekend on Harry's hospitality. Dad says we shouldn't put too much emphasis on Bert's version of events and details of Harry's new love. Uncle Bert isn't the most reliable news agency.

Dined on mounds of steak and kidney pudding, and collapsed afterwards. Ally phoned Bessie. They are going to Cyprus on Nov 11. Ally's cousin Kathryn Mogford gave birth to a son Adam, recently. Not an obnoxious name.

-=-

Saturday November 7, 1981

 _. A day spent on the staircase splashing paint everywhere. The drab pink undercoat on the woodwork has now given way to a shining poppy, giving a brilliance to the place which, quite frankly, is breathtaking. In my wife I have found a skilled 'brushwoman'. She can do a door far better than I ever could, and knows exactly the right amount of paint to lay upon her brush. I am prone to being runny. 

We went into town on the bus at 4 and spent an hour around the shops. We bought Frances a Lucy Atwell book of Grimm's fairy tales, and a soup recipe book for Kathleen [99p], and a flan dish for Diane and Paul's engagement. We did much giggling. By 4:30 darkness had descended and the Christmas trees and glitter in the shop windows lent a Yuletide atmosphere to the place. Hideous really. It's another seven weeks until Santa Claus comes.

Margaux Hemingway.

Tonight I splashed about on a canvas for Mama. Quite pleased with the first few strokes but I have trouble with the sheep in the foreground. It's quite difficult to make sheep look like sheep, if you know what I mean. 

Had lasagne. Watched Margaux Hemingway in 'Lipstick' from 1976. Five years ago did I take Lynne Mather to see the film, or was it Sarah? Films are usually a let down after five years, and this is no exception. It hasn't aged well.

Mum phoned at 10:30pm just for a chat and pleading loneliness. Papa was out on constabulary duties between 4pm and midnight.

To bed at 12 with milky drinks and books.

-=-

Friday November 6, 1981

 _. Ally is exhausted and looks ghastly. She says she could sleep for 150 years. 

To Len's Bar at lunchtime with Sarah. Dismal.

The YP is all Charles and Diana. The papers all agree that it's the quickest royal pregnancy to follow a marriage for many years. The Duke of Clarence and Avondale was born in January, 1864, ten months after his parents, the then Prince and Princess of Wales, married. However, Queen Victoria gave birth to the Princess Royal in November, 1840, nine months to the day after her marriage to Prince Albert. If you regard all this as tenuous let's go back to the Prince Regent, later George IV, who married Caroline of Brunswick on April 8, and his only child, Princess Charlotte, was born on the following January 7. The royal baby will be the first baby born to a Princess of Wales since Mary [of Teck] gave birth to Prince John in 1905. The Press Association speculate about the possibility of twins. Diana's grandfather, the 4th Lord Fermoy [1885-1955] was a twin with his brother the Hon Francis Roche [1885-1958], and Diana's aunt Mary [her mother's sister] had twin girls in 1957 to her then husband, Anthony Berry, MP.

Home after 6. Pork chops and mounds of cabbage. Ally had left the AHA early, and gone on foot to Morrison's and then walked home.

Bed after 10.

-=-

Thursday November 5, 1981

 _. Off out into the cold at 7:45. Bounced into the YP with an air of unconcealable efficiency about me. Very pleased that Bob [Cockroft] used my piece about Davina Sheffield announcing her engagement to Jake Morley. I have always liked Davina, and out of all the Prince of Wales's ex-girlfriends I think she is the best. I always hoped she'd be the future Queen.

Queen Gladys?

My phone trilled at 11. It was an excited Ally. The tea lady had just been in her office and announced that the Princess of Wales is pregnant and expecting a child next June. At exactly that time there was a buzz on the newsdesk. Geoff Hemingway, somewhat unfeelingly I think, asked drily who the father might be. This is excellent news. A direct heir to the Crown and the first direct heir to be born since 1948. So, it's either Prince George or Princess Victoria of Wales. I'd be very surprised at Craig, Darren, or Shirley. They have to be so careful naming a future monarch because he/she gives his/her name to the era in which he/she reigns. Just imagine if Queen Victoria had been Gladys? The period of great change, industrial revolution, and progress, the British Empire, Disraeli, the aspidistra, would have gone down in history as the Gladysian era. Would Elizabeth I have held sway over Ye Olde England as Queen Mavis? And what about Elvis the Lionheart?

Home at 6. Ally beaming. We went out at 8 to look at a smoky bonfire. Had a couple of drinks at Mucky Willie's and came home at 9. Ally felt faint and was put to bed. I watched News at 10. We have had a good royal year.

-=-

Wednesday November 4, 1981

 _. The bus journeys to and from the office grow steadily worse. The Leeds-Bradford run is reminiscent of the Burma Railway, only worse. 

The State Opening of Parliament took place today. The first time that a Princess of Wales has attended since 1910. The poor Queen gave a crisp, and brief speech from the throne, but the dazzling Princess of Wales snatched the limelight, as of course it was intended she should. Diana, in a tiara, is clearly heading to the top of the polls, eclipsing even the Queen Mother.

I fell into the house at 6:15 quite jaded. Ally was preparing tea, or perhaps dinner of sausages and chips.

Lord Hailsham.

I am thoroughly appalled by the BBC. I sat down to view the pageant of the state opening but got nothing other than a brief clip of HM poised upon her throne. Poor old Lord Hailsham almost fell walking backwards. You always get one. I do recall Field Marshal Viscount Montgomery collapsing at the state opening whilst holding the sword of state and was very close to impaling a teenage Princess Anne. Earl Mountbatten, God rest him, was once taken all peculiar too, if I remember correctly. 

-=-

Tuesday November 3, 1981

Cousin Pam Obermeyer.

 _. Ally is having fun and games on a morning. In recent days, in the absence of Audrey Citroen, she's been walking down to her office at the AHA, and has been befriended by a mental patient, an inmate of Lynfield Mount asylum, who now waits for her. She now spends some time hiding behind trees, and climbing over walls to avoid these dawn dalliances with this potential mad axeman, who at the moment appears inoffensive and only wants to talk about his wife and card games.

Tonight I tackled my oil painting of flowers and made some improvements but regret starting the work so high up the canvas. There's a blue expanse at the foot of the picture that I must do something with.

'Brideshead Revisited' on the TV. It's improving slightly, but Ally watched with interest.

Pam Obermeyer, the actress daughter of my Auntie 'Eddy', was the star of 'Play for Today' on the BBC. All tits, sex, and bad language, but they are very proud down in Nottingham.

-=-

Monday November 2, 1981

 _. Ally had a hard time on the phone with the blood sucking leech Broadhead at Jack Andrews. He twists everything and makes out that they are doing us a favour putting a floor back in the Citroen for £50. You know what Ally is like. Everything hits her with twice as much force as it does me, and she came off the phone close to tears. 

Home at 6. Mum and Dad came at 7 and we had drinks before dinner at 8:30. Mum brought a pack of photos of their Alessio holiday. Both looked happy and well. Dad singing the praises of Northumberland too. Why is that county ignored and almost a 'no go' region for us Yorkshire folk? People talk endlessly of the Dales and the Lakes, but why not Northumberland?

We discussed Princess Margaret who is back in the news this week. [Nigel] Dempster has completed his biography, and I am pleased to see that he has clobbered Lord Snowdon, for a change. Dempster informs us that in November, 1974 the princess took an overdose of sleeping tablets. She was suffering from depression and he says it was a cry for help, and not really a suicide attempt. Snowdon is a lecher, a womaniser. Poor Princess Margaret is the most maligned woman in the history of the world. 

Charlotte phoned. She is pregnant and expecting a baby on or around June 1, 1982. The dinner was going cold whilst this joyous news was related. Mum and Dad left at 11. Exhaustion.

-=-

Sunday November 1, 1981

 _.20th Sunday after Trinity

Up at about 9. Our visitors were making good their escape. Steve is watching football at Kippax and they couldn't stay for breakfast.

Ally, in a dreadful state, regrets accepting an invitation to lunch with Jill and Tim. She found a black dress she bought last year. Tim came and collected us at 2 and took us to Valley Rd, Pudsey, a nice, solid terrace house. There until 9:30. We had roast pork. My eyes felt like lead. Tim drove us home.

-=-

Saturday October 31, 1981

 _.Hallow'een

Bright, brisk and cheerful day. Up at 9:05 precisely and into a hot bath after which I filled a bucket with soapy water and went out to clean the windows.

Lidget Green is like Burnsall or Hawes today and I wouldn't swap Ash Tree Cottage for Haddon Hall or Chevening combined.

We had toast and then took Audrey back to the licensed bandits that are Jack Andrews. Car salesmen are a revolting species. Why did God create them? I put them on a par with the shortly to be extinct blood sucking leech.

Onward into town to buy vegetables, meat, and the gallons of booze for tonight. Home at 4 and spent some time making the place look party-like. Ally looking glorious in her yellow knickerbockers and black 'boob tube'. Paul phoned from Rodley. He and Jacq can't make it. That's two down.

Sue and Pete were first arrivals, followed by the Bakers, Gadsbys, Sandersons and Elmers, and Mr Lawson. A humorous, pleasant night. Lynn and Dave seemed cheerful but we were told Frances-talk had been banned. I didn't get helpless, and recall most of the jokes. Dave L brought a turnip lantern with him. I do like cousin Jill. She is so quiet and oozing with motherly kindness. Karen spotted my 'Caligula' book and gloated over the pornographic Roman photography. She said that both her and her mother are avid porno readers. Everybody danced wildly without any casualties.

Dave L and I found ourselves upon the settee [like Kissinger and Arafat] discussing politics and the next SDP government. He thinks that Shirley Williams is the greatest thing since Cleopatra, and doesn't seem to mind the idea that Cyril Smith might be foreign secretary. Poor boy.

The party fizzled out at 4-ish. Karen, Steve, Di and Paul had the spare room. Ally and I did the washing up and listened to Rachmaninov. We finished off with bread and cheese, Bed at dawn.

-=-