Monday February 15, 1982

 Washington's Birthday Observance

Andrew [Dixon] is 18, and so a man, today. 

I do resent the way that WH Smith lick up to the Yanks by printing 'Washington's Day Observance' at the head of the page. It is an English diary. Do American diaries print Her Majesty the Queen's Birthday Observance every April 21? At least they avoid Leonid Brezhnev's birthday, which falls in December, I think.

Amateur dramatics at Burley-in-Wharfedale. Lynn phoned Ally in a state of turmoil this morning and said that she and Dave had given backword on the house at Pool because of Ally's criticisms of the place to Mum yesterday. Obviously, Ally was upset to think that her comments had led to such a drastic decision. It is apparent that Lynn has been torn with indecision here. Mum was flabbergasted because the Bakers were at Pine Tops yesterday likeneing the Pool house to Nostell Priory. Lynn is such a changeable little thing. I can picture her laid awake last night night chewing the whole thing over. Dave is strangely quiet on the whole business. 

Home at 6 for a liver creation washed down with wine and then at 8 we went over to Burley, armed with a couple of bottles of wine, to have it out with the Bakers. Lynn was pale and they look to have been squabbling. Dave exclaimed that he doesn't know where 'the bloody hell' he stands. No sight or sound of Frances. It was a baby-free night in fact. We left at 11 but a tyre burst at the bottom of Hollins Hill, and we walked back in the cold to the Shoulder of Mutton. Ally's bladder was bursting and so I helped her over a stone wall so that she could pee in the long grass. Comical to say the least. Dad came down and showed us how to change the wheel. Then man is a saint. Home, exhausted, at 12:30.

-=-

Sunday February 14, 1982

 Valentine's Day - Sexagesima

Sunny and bright and spring-like. Do I detect daffodils poking out from the leaden earth? We were awake at 8:30 and I gave Ally a card and a chocolate heart. She gave me a card with a pig on the front. As you know, we are very fond of pigs. We sat in bed, the room flooded in sunshine, eating cake and supping coffee. Love is a wonderful thing.

Up at 9:30. I brewed ale, and Ally, armed with a bucket and soapy rags, went out to clean poor Audrey.

To avoid 'Carry on Spying' on the BBC we went off in the car in an attempt to locate the grave of John Rhodes [1866-1948], without success. A witless little woman took us to the wrong end of the cemetery which misled us completely. Most people in Bramley seem to have died from cholera.

On to Pool-in-Wharfedale to inspect the house which Lynn and Dave are buying. We sat in horror before the hideous 1950s erection. It may have splendid views of Wharfedale, but it's ugly, inaccessible, and over-priced. On to Guiseley for a coffee, but left after half an hour. They were having Peter for Sunday dinner before going on to Hyde Terrace.

Back at Ash Tree Cottage we had steak by candlelight, seated at the new table. We were dining for two hours. Listened to the radio afterwards. Richard Strauss's 'Don Quixote' [he really shouldn't have bothered], and then a nice piece for two pianos by Brahms. Bed at 10:30.

-=-

Saturday February 13, 1982

 Sunny and Spring-like. Breakfast on scrambled eggs and beans with the wireless thumping away in the background. Ally took a very hot bath [again] and used all the hot water.

We went out to the Co-op at 1, and then went, quite on impulse, to Thackley and bought a mahogany drop leaf dining table and a bureau from 'Cheap and Cheerful', spending £73. Great excitement. We had to make two trips to fit them in the car and after polishing and positioning them it was after 6. At last we can dine in style.

Mum phoned at 7 to say Sue is now on valium tablets and is probably going to be induced tomorrow. Her blood pressure remains very high. So it looks like a Valentine's Day baby for Sue and Pete. Mum says the poor girl was laid in bed chattering away non stop. No doubt the effect of the drugs. Isn't valium supposed to be for nerves?

We dined upon our new table this evening. Steak and kidney with dumplings, followed by chocolate 'Angel Delight'. Felt bloated afterwards. Ally, observing my protruding belly, suggests that perhaps we should have more salads to prevent me swelling to Cyril Smith proportions.

Ally was in bed by 11, but I was wide awake, and sat with a mug of coffee watching an old Margaret Lockwood Gainsborough picture, 'The Wicked Lady'.

-=-

Friday February 12, 1982

 Rain. Tea and toast again with Kitten. The Prince of Wales was on the radio at 7:30 talking about the Mary Rose salvage, and he quipped that the royal baby may well have to be Princess Mary Rose or Prince Henry Charles. I do not like the idea of King Henry IX. However, King Terry would be worse.

Worked until 2 and walked up to Hyde Terrace. Blown around like a wet rag in the wind, I was. At Hyde Terrace I met Papa parking the car and found Lynn, Mum and Frances inside. Mum brought me a prawn sandwich and half a pork pie from home. Susie, still sitting on top of the bed, looking a better colour, but was feeling sour and snappy. I don't blame her. Frances sat on the bed inspecting the ward. I got her clapping and gurgling. With her rosy cheeks and wispy hair she's definitely a Baker.

Back to the YP at 3. Home for 6. Knackered really. We had beefburgers and watched Sherlock Holmes on the TV. Afterwards we sat writing and Ally made a luscious chocolate cake.

Thoughts of the week: the succession to the throne should perhaps be altered to make Freddie Laker heir to the throne. Well it's either that or declaring him a saint. The sun shines out of his arse, if the Press is to be believed.

A future Duke of Somerset was born on February 3. He'll be head of the Seymour family one day.

Tonight Ally and I behaved like lovers in a French film. At about 10 we climbed into a hot, soapy bath together. It was the first time we'd done this, always assuming it was too small .... the bath, that is.

Later we watched Bette Davis in 'The Anniversary', and finally went to bed at 1am.

-=-

Thursday February 11, 1982

 I don't want to write. It's one of those days. Toast and tea with darling Ally. We never seem to be together. It's all sleep and breakfasts. Off to Leeds. Dismal.

Couldn't visit Sue because they clean the wards on Thurdsays. I suppose she will be down in the dumps. It's a week since she was taken into Leeds's answer to Colditz.

Wrote to John Stokes, the MP for Halesowen. I read that Baroness Young is also in opposition to the dreadful succession [to the throne] Bill.

I bought Ally a chocolate heart inscribed with the words 'to Ally with love'.

The Prince and Princess of Wales are heading to the West Indies next week for a holiday. The poor princess is having a hard time with her pregnancy, I fear.

-=-

Wednesday February 10, 1982

 Uncomfortable day. I have a headache and feel stuffed up and clammy. Is it pneumonia or the plague? Had scrambled eggs and toast with Poppet and went off on something of an adventure. I took the 88 bus instead of the usual 72 and had a guided tour of Pudsey, driving past Hilda and Tony's and then past Hough Side and past Marlene's where I saw Frank, Debbie and Mark in the window. At the YP for 9.

Felt grotty all day. Kathleen spent the day insulting me at every available opportunity. Visited Sue again at 2:15. She was sat with her legs dangling over the side of her bed, but soon they turned quite purple, and so she hid them beneath the sheets. What a state to be in. At 2:45 Mum and Dad arrived with a bunch of irises. I left them shortly afterwards and walked back to the YP.

Grapefruit: welcome change

Saw in today's press that John Stokes, MP for Halesowen is to oppose Michael English's succession bill. Thank God that someone in Westminster has some common sense. I'm going to write to him too.

Home at 5:30. A colonial gentleman was sitting next to me on the bus greedily devouring a grapefruit. It was a delightful experience because the zest and aroma of the lucious fruit, and indeed the spray as he hungrily sucked made such a welcome change from the usual cigarette smoke and ash.

Ate fish fingers before a smouldering TV. A new BBC serial on the life of Nancy Astor. Not too sure about it really. The BBC isn't having much luck with historical dramas of late. The Borgias was a complete wash-out, even though I enjoyed it. It hasn't been the same since the days of Glenda Jackson as 'Elizabeth R' and Keith Michell's 'Henry VIII'.

-=-

Tuesday February 9, 1982

 Out of our warm pit at 6:50 for coffee and toast. The trains are on strike today [yes, Tuesday for a change] and I exited the house at 7:30 to battle my way into Leeds.

St John Stevas: orator

Aghast by an article in the ailing Times which says that Michael English, MP, confidently expects a majority of MPs to support his Succession to the Crown Bill. Nowhere do I see any protests to this monstrous piece of legislation, and without further ado I took to my pen and sent letters to the prime minister, Mr English, and Norman St John Stevas, MP, a great monarchist whose oratory is without equal in the mundane House of Commons.

Visited Sue at 2:30. God bless her. I walked up to Hyde Terrace and stuck my head round the door and surprised her. She was red and bored and hunched on top of her bed. She wasn't expecting any vistors. We had cheese and onions crisps and orange juice. Her blood pressure is erratic and she cannot say just how long they will leave her without delivering the baby. I walked back to the YP feeling quite dismal. Leaving a loved one all alone in an anti-septic prison. I can actually recall Sue's birth and now she's expecting a birth of her own.

YP dull. Spring in the air. I yourn for the rolling hills and Dales. I have missed our Grassington weekend this year. We'll have to get Glynnie over for another Hilltop session.

Home at 6. Ally's had her curls cut off ready for another perm next month. We ate liver and onions and sat doing absolutely nothing. Ally's into Wilkie Collins in a big way.

-=-

Monday February 8, 1982

 Crisp, frosty and sunny. No Sue news. YP utterly dismal. Sarah was full of the joys of spring - not. She was carrying on like an inmate of the Chateau d'If. 

The Princess of Wales fell down a flight of stairs at Sandringham a month ago, but didn't injure herself or the baby. Nasty though. Read the weekend papers and the tributes to Her Majesty - now in her 31st year as Queen Regnant. Both Sir Harold Wilson and James Callaghan oozed with praise for HM and the monarchical system.

Phoned Mum at 12:30 who said Sue's blood pressure is back to normal, but when she asked to be let out the doctor said 'certainly not'. 

John phoned Mum last night and said that Jim and Molly are taking them all to Majorca in April. Poor John hasn't been abroad since we went to Majorca in '75 with Chris Ratcliffe. Will Maria be allowed to fly when 5 months pregnant?

Giggled with Ally on the phone. We have a romantic assignation this evening, and our night is to be passionately re-designed. I'm saying no more.

At lunchtime I went to pay for the washing machine [a monthly installment], and bought 'Therese Raquin' by Emil Zola. Will Ally like it? 

Home at 5:45. To bed. Up at 7. Ate pizza and chips and watched Coronation Street.

Sunday February 7, 1982

 Septuagesima

Slept until lunchtime again. Bacon, eggs, mushrooms, &c. Out into the sunshine afterwards to do the windows.We haven't been able to see out of them since the royal wedding. Speaking of royal weddings [and who isn't these days?] Princess Marie-Astrid of Luxembourg was married to Archduke Carl of Habsburg-Lorraine yesterday. Prince Andrew represented the Queen and was accompanied by the Duke and Duchess of Gloucester. The prince has since been 'paired off', or so it seems by the gutter press, with the Infanta Elena, daughter of [King] Juan Carlos of Spain. We are going to have to endure ten years of 'randy Andy' tales now. If he's anything like his elder brother the future Duchess of York is now only a 12 year-old schoolgirl, no doubt undergoing a private education in Broadstairs.

Visited Sue in Hyde Terrace. She was sat nursing her bump surrounded by men. Peter, who had stayed the night at Chapel Allerton, was with Gus and Frank. They are quite mad, and never change. Will they ever settle down and have mortgages and carpet slippers? Sue was bright, but bored. Her blood pressure goes up and down like a yoyo, and gives us no hope of uncledom or auntdom yet.

On to Pudsey for a late afternoon tea with Auntie Mabel and her friend, Evelyn. Tea and cake and then whisky. Ally was close to collapse because auntie's gas fire was belting out heat like something at a BSC plant, and she waded through the fruit cake and port and lemon growing steadily redder and redder. Mabel knows no details of her family tree. Most odd. I do love her.

On at 5 to Pine Tops. Dinner with Mum, Dad and Pete. Prawns, turkey, Yorkshire pudding, &c. Splendid. Peter was very quiet. It was very difficult to get anything out of him. Dad was similarly quiet tonight, shattered and working 12 hour shifts from Otley. Mum still 'nervy' and will not relax until a lusty child yells out over Leeds. Home at 10. Bed. Buggered.

-=-

Saturday February 6, 1982

 Slept until lunch. The postman woke us delivering books from the book club. I went out to buy half a pound of bacon from the Co-op. A horrible old woman with a Jack Russell terrier was in the shop and she insisted on kissing and slobbering over the dreadful pet, because perfectly formed red lip marks were stamped upon the head of the scruffy canine. Horrific sight. I returned and made breakfast.

We visited Susie at Hyde Terrace at 2:30. Lynnn and Dave were with her. She was red faced and chirpy and sitting on top of the bed. A nurse chastised us for overcrowding the ward, but the main problem was Gavin, a noisy four year-old terror, the son of a fellow inmate. Screaming children cannot do much for blood pressure. I do not know how Sue stays so bright.

On afterwards to Bingley. A God forsaken spot really, where we looked at the antique shops. Why are old junk shops always closed when you want to look inside? We didn't get into a supermarket until 5.

Back at Ash Tree Cottage we put a lasagne in the pot and our feet well and truly up. Dave L phoned at 7. He'd been trying to get us for a couple of days to ask us to make up a foursome at Jolly's. Amazingly, he's taking out the teacher he was paired up with at last week's party and sounded terrified at the thought of spending the evening entirely alone with this woman. We would have loved to join them but the sizzling dinner prevented it.

Bed after 'Dallas'. Read the Borgias, by Marion Johnson.

-=-

Friday February 5, 1982

 Exhausted. Yet I worked with great gusto. Nervous energy no doubt. Ally took the day off and dropped me at Rawdon where I got a bus to Leeds. We were very much in love this morning. In the car, in the drizzle, at Rawdon kissing and cuddling.

I left the YP at 4 and went to Burley-in-W to join Ally who'd been with Lynn and Frances since lunceon. The baby is a delight and captivating. We really ought to conceive one. Christine Airey has called her son Kevin, not Keith, which we were told.

To Pine Tops at 6:30 with fish and chips from Harry Ramsden's. Knackered. Mum looked like she'd died and the angels had left her behind. Quiet at Pine Tops. Mum and Dad visited Sue from 8-9 and we left for home at about 10. 

Phoned Dave and called off our visit on Saturday. It couldn't be helped. Lily was grumpy about it.

-=-