Snow abounds. Christiana Ross was born this day in 1865. To the YP as usual. I have yet to make editor.
Audrey wouldn't start and so we resolved to buy a new car battery tomorrow. We sat watching TV quite calmly knowing full well that we are about to wave goodbye to £22.
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We intended going out tonight to buy food for our Christmas party, but we couldn't dig the car out to go to Morrison's. The battery is flat [again], and the snow doesn't help. We sat with long faces grumpily eating fish and chips.
Ally has received a Christmas card from the Pinders addressed to Miss Alison Dixon.
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Snow and Poland. Little else.
The snow delayed my journey and I didn't get home until 7:45pm. Coronation Street was in full swing when I fell through the door blue with cold and shaking with rage. I had been stood outside the YP for an hour, and the temperature on the clock there proclaimed 21F.
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| Club St or Gstaad? |
For the first time in many years the River Aire has frozen in Leeds. Some say that it last froze over in 1963, and you always get one who throws in 1947. I certainly never remember anything quite like it.
We dined on spaghetti. She was worried about me. I've never been so late home. Not like _____ who only returns home to his wife when the pub closes.
Dad phoned asking for his car battery charger. His car is having trouble now. No way can we dig out the car and drive over. Club Street looks like Gstaad.
After thawing in front of the TV we retired to bed.
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| Wichita Lineman. |
Slipped and slid across town at lunchtime to buy minced beef for dinner. Must have looked like Robin Cousins.
At 3:30 Kathleen announced that the weather was taking a turn for the worse and gave us leave to quit the office early. I left in the company of Roy Holland, who drove me home in his little sports vehicle. He came in for a pee, and, like most people, expressed his approval of our humble home. I am very proud of it, and stood, nose in the air, like Lord Hertford amidst his Grinling Gibbons.
Christmas cards behind the door. Eight in all. Ate mince beef, Yorkshire puddings and pancakes. Sat on our cushions relaxing I heard Mrs Greenwood knocking on the wall. Rushing round thinking something was wrong she was struggling to light her gas oven. It lit for me.
Watched dismal 'Brideshead [Revisited].
News: The Queen, caught by the snow, was forced to seek refuge in a two-star hotel near Bristol for seven hours on Sunday. Poland is in a poor way. Brezhnev will go in at Christmas.
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Deep snow which blocked most of the local roads. I'm sitting at Club Street. An eerie silence from the road outside which is usually packed with vehicles.
Up at 6:30. Ally walked to the AHA. No buses, so I phoned Margot to give the YP a miss. Sarah phoned later, just to check up on me. Susan phoned for all the gossip from Stockport.
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| Club Street. |
My snow-clearing was buried beneath fresh snowfall, and a thick blanket was spread over Lidget Green by the time Ally came in.
We had a disagreement about opening Auntie Elsie's Christmas present, and quarrelled for a few hours. It's depressing to fall out, and a rarity these days.
My wife has given me a beautiful Christmas card. _________.
To bed with hot chocolate. The news is dominated by Poland. Such a bore. Switched off the TV and went to bed with Stanley Baldwin. I suppose it's work for me tomorrow.
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3rd Sunday in Advent
Hangover. Billy gave me two Phensic tablets. Sat after eggs and bacon with the Sunday newspapers. The flat is too hot.
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| Mottram Towers. |
Dave's grandad fell over in the snow this afternoon cutting his head. Dave, worried about this, left with the lads at 4:30. We had roast pork with Brussel sprouts which had been on the boil on and off since 9:30am. Worrying about the snow we left at 5:30. I think Billy enjoyed having us. His 82 year-old mum has gone to live with a daughter leaving him free to entertain.
Treacherous drive home.The M62 was almost blocked by driving snow and we crawled and slid at 20MPH by many stranded vehicles. Unbelievable that Audrey made it. Arrived at Bradford at 8:30. Phoned Dave and Mum. Billy phoned later from the Armoury. He is incredible for 42, with the energy of an 18 year-old. Exhausted. We ate cheese toasties, drank hot chocolate, and retired to bed at 9:55pm.
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A bright, clear morning, but frosty. Installed the car battery at 8am after porridge and toast. Amazingly, the car burst into action and roared like a lion. We hurriedly packed, dressed, and head for the M62 to Stockport just after 10. A bad journey. Ice on the windscreen. Near Stockport we ran into thick fog. We got to the Hollywood just after 11:30.
We found the Hollywood refurbished and filled with jungle-style plants giving the whole place an atmosphere reminiscent of Kew Gardens, or perhaps the Hanging Gardens of Babylon.
Poor Lily was in the bar with her relief manager looking tired and pale and dressed in black. It is wrong to avoid talking about death and so later in the dining room we talked about Jim with Dave, Lily and Grandad. I don't think I have ever heard little Grandad Glynn speak so much. I suppose he is in a state of shock. Lily is being very brave.
Joined by the lads. We went to the Robin Hood and afterwards to a video hire shop and took out Jack Nicholson's 'One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest'. We sat back at the Hollywood for a couple of hours viewing.
At 10 we returned to the Hollywood for a wild session which continued until after 2. Ally and I spent £22 on the dinner [2lb T-bone steaks]. I gave myself a blister cutting through the meat. We had the usual community singing - Billy performed a duet with Anne. He is so funny and never fails to have everybody in hysterics.
Afterwards it was back to Billy's flat at 61 Mottram Towers, on the sixth floor. A multi-storey greenhouse. Billy stripped down to his underpants.
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| Geoff Hemingway. |
Stephanie [Ferguson] has given me a book on the coming royal baby. It's a ghastly book, but has some interesting pictures. Stephanie says an astrologer has descided that the infant prince will be named 'David George'. No chance.
Once again the car battery is on charge tonight. We can only hope and pray that it will be suitably rejuvenated for tomorrow's Stockport visit.
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| Audrey. |
Bob [Cockroft] has used one of my tips. Lady Ellerman, widow of Sir John Ellerman, 2nd and last baronet, of the shipping line, has married the Hon George Borwick, in South Africa. Lady Ellerman, in her sixties, was the sole beneficiary under Sir John's £54m will when he died in 1973. Just imagine fifty four million smackers.
Ally was raging in frustration over the car. Audrey has caused us to cancel two engagements this week. The choice of a Citroen Dyan is the worst mistake we've made. I removed the battery [again] and put it on charge using Papa's battery charger. The dial on the machine wobbled, but only slightly, but Papa insists that that this doesn't mean the battery is exhausted. I expected more visible evidence of the existence of life.
Thick frost tonight. We watched a poor thriller starring Judy Geeson. To bed at about 10.
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_.I have received a letter from The Times on behalf of the editor and a 'contrite' Philip Howard who blames his ridiculous article on Nov 30 on a 'too hasty preparation'. Philip Howard is usually knowledgeable and a reliable journalist, but this has let him down badly. It was good of the editor to reply. They ignored by last letter in August.
Took a half day and met Ally at the abandoned car at 1:15, and removed the battery and took it away to the nearest garage to be re-charged, at the cost of 75p. This seems exceptionally reasonable. One doesn't expect to walk away from a garage without spending at least £360. We shared a Mars bar [lunch?] and then Ally made her way back up the slippery path to the AHA. She was home at 5 and I watched her alight from the bus.
We had eggs and chips, collected the car battery and took it to Audrey where we re-inserted it by torchlight. After a half hour struggle with the starting handle [which doesn't actually start the car but frees the engine] we drove over to Guiseley and sat with Mum and Dad drinking the occasional beer, and watched The Borgias until about 10:45.
Ally is exhausted tonight. The walk to and from Daisy Bank is to blame. Freezing cold and snow on the way. Are we in for a white Christmas? When was the last one? 1970? 1683? 1472BC?
We went out at 8, and the car wouldn't start and so, bright spark here, pushed Audrey out of Club Street and down the hill in the hope that the roll would 'jump start' her. Ally took the wheel but the car was dead and after some yards the car came to a grinding halt, a sad and depressing halt. Nothing could be done, and so we deserted Audrey and walked back to Club St.
Ally was close to tears with frustration and disappointment. That, she says, is it. The car is going to the knackers yard. I phoned Sue to ask about Pete's battery charger. She's as dotty as ever. I then phoned Jackie, who was waiting for us and has made a lasagne. Without further ado, she deposited the lasagne in her car and drove to us [minus the dog]. She then drove us down to inspect the car in the blackness of the night. We slipped and slid around the dormant vehicle.
Home at 10 to Jackie's lasagne. I showed Jackie the Wilson family tree and was excited to learn that Auntie Eleanor has some documents. She left at 11 and we sat until 12:30 - bloated. Certainly didn't expect food this evening.
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A warm, gentle day. Ally and I took off to town with Samuel at 1pm. We didn't take the pram and I carried baby for two hours, by the end...
