Monday March 8, 1982

 David Andrew Baker is 26. Auntie Mabel is 63.

Don't feel communicative. Came home from the YP and found Ally hiding in the kitchen and looking peculiar. Ethel Greenwood had been banging on the wall with her walking stick [a parcel for us had been left there] and for some reason she refused to answer the old girl's summons. Mary [Moore] came across and was knocking on the door, and so with banging from every side Ally decided to hide at the head of the cellar. She is in a highly nervous state and looks exhausted.

Fish fingers. Sue phoned and invited us for tea tomorrow.

Ally was in bed and out cold by 9:30. I sat reading 'Mountbatten' by Richard Hough. I cannot get into it, and find this Hough man offensive. I'm not surprised that Countess Mountbatten has attempted to halt the publication. I read in bed, but it disturbed Ally, and so I switched off at 10:30.

It's the Budget tomorrow. Sir Geoffrey [Howe] won't clobber us too hard because he may only have one more budget to present before the next general election.

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Sunday March 7, 1982

 2nd Sunday in Lent

Hungover. Ally provided me with two invaluable paracetamols and I attempted to battle on. Dave, even at 10am, was doing his books. I marvelled at his dilligence. There he was with a pocket calculator. [He now runs the pub with his mother]. 

Bacon and eggs. Sadie, the German Shepherd, is a fine specimen, and not the vicious, unfriendly dog I expected. Ally was quite taken with the frisky young thing. It's interesting that none of the lads seem to like drinking in the Hollywood these days, and so we had to venture back to the Robin Hood. The fun and warmth of last night is gone and the lads are as lively as a lump of cheese. Garry has been dull since Joanne returned to Jersey. 

Ally reminded me that I was also referring to Anne's bullied Jack Russell as a 'ferret'.

Back at the Hollywood we had turkey for lunch and watched Clint Eastwood's ridiculous [film] 'Magnum Force', which Dave recorded last night. After lashings of tea we left at 7:30. Exhausted, but happy. Home at 8:30. Bed.

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Saturday March 6, 1982

 Lynn is 24 today. We were out of bed at 8:30 drinking tea and talking to the birthday girl on the phone. David is taking her and Frances to York for the day. After breakfast and baths we went into Shipley to collect our wedding video and then headed down the windswept M62 to Stockport. By 1:30 we were sitting around the snooker table at the Hollywood swilling lager. Lily, a brave woman, looked slightly emotional when she saw our wedding video.

Hot pot for dinner, then out to the Armoury pub at 8 and on to the Ring 'O Bells, where Glynnie phoned Sue and Pete and was hilariously explaining to them the rudiments of breast feeding. On to the Robin Hood. Pissed. We were joined by a new boy, John, a neighbour of Steve's, who is a PhD, and hails from far off Tewkesbury. He was a silent chap until the pils lager got to him. We clowned around like an episode from a 1957 Goon Show. He ended up wearing my boots, and I had his shoes. Garry had my blue pullover, and I had his. Back to Anne's [mother of the Robin Hood publican] for supper and wine. Deeply pissed. I insisted on referring to her Jack Russell terrier as a 'rat', 'cavie', and 'micro organism'. Greatly intoxicated. 

Ally, who hadn't touched a drop of drink, was in perfect health and drove a wobbly Dave and I back to the Hollywood.

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Friday March 5, 1982

Ivy, Duchess of Portland

 To the YP tired and hideously unconscientiously. Saw Geoff Hemingway who told me I'm to receive another £10 next week, and of course Malcolm [Barker] will pay me for the family tree after it appears. Could this genealogical stuff be my lucky break? Am I destined to end my days as Garter King of Arms?

Sit with a coffee hiding behind a copy of The Times. Ivy, Duchess of Portland, has died aged 94. She was the widow of the 7th Duke, and was a Maid of Honour to Queen Alexandra from 1912-1915. They don't make 'em like that any more. The Duke, a Cavendish Bentinck, was of course a kinsman of the Queen Mother.

Worked without a lunch break and escaped the office at 4. Sunny and spring-like. Ally was knee deep in soap suds at Club St cleaning Audrey, but she downed her wash leather to come inside and kiss me.

We ate late, a lamb and pepper creation which tasted good but was greasy. No TV. Beethoven instead.

Susie left hospital at about 1pm today and went home to West End Terrace with Christopher. Mum had deposited a bottle of something bubbly in the refridgerator. We didn't go over because everyone else decided to go, and the last thing they need is a crowd on this essentially private and joyous day.

Edison's the estate agents have valued Pine Tops at £37,500. Mum is happy at this. Who wouldn't be?

Bed at 10:40.

-=-

Thursday March 4, 1982

 Sure enough, the dead dog had gone this morning and we could safely take breakfast without it disturbing our charming view of Lidget Green. We debate who might have removed the canine corpse. Put it this way, it's the last time I eat a curry within a ten mile radius of Necropolis Road. 

Hectic lunch time. Went out to buy rosé wine, films, flash cubes, wrapping paper, photo album, stylus, and greeting cards, and all in a 45 minute period. Home heavily laden at 6. Splashed in the bath. Wrapped David's Pierre Cardin after shave lotion, and Lynn's lasagne jar and got over to Burley-in-W for 8:45.

Found Mum, Dad, Lynn, Dave, Jim and Margaret assembled there. A quiet night though Mum was amusing and on top of the world. Somehow things rarely go with a bang at Lawn Road. No sign of Frances. They now have a very large dresser, from 'Cheap 'n Cheerful'. Margaret is insane. Lynn continues to behave peculiarly and seems to be permanently upset about something. David seems to become more and more dull. Ally is choked about the way people have changed. But then we all change, don't we?

Home and bed after 2am.

-=-

Wednesday March 3, 1982

 'Spring' is in the air. Spoke to Mummy. She told me that a man from Edison's estate agents is coming tomorrow to value Pine Tops and have a 'for sale' sign erected in the front garden. A poignant moment. What will life be like without dear Pine Tops? Mum and Dad had been to Otley [hospital] to see Sue & Christopher, both fighting fit.

Home to Baby. We sat cuddled together eating macaroni cheese, mounds of it.

Had a spot of culture later on BBC2 when we watched Her Majesty the Queen opening the Barbican Centre and afterwards attending a concert of Beethoven's fourth piano concerto. The Queen viewed some hideous French paintings which looked as though they were the creation of the inmates of a top security institution for the criminally insane. And weird Canadian sculpture. HM had a glint her eye throughout. They must surely roar with laughter when back at Windsor surrounded by Leonardo cartoons and equestrian oddments by that nice Mr Stubbs. The Queen looked very chic in a flowing pink and silver creation, but is looking her age.

A dog was knocked down and killed at 11:30pm at the junction of Cemetery Road and Necropolis Road. The canine couldn't have picked a more appropriate place to die. Ally was slightly overcome at the sight of the tragedy, and I did my good citizen bit and phoned the police. All very disturbing stuff on which to go to bed. I attempted to cheer Ally by telling her that the dog is now out of its earthly misery and now resplendent in Glory in the arms of Jesus, but it didn't do any good.

-=-

Tuesday March 2, 1982

 YP tolerable. It is reported that Kathleen is looking at getting an Irish Wolfhound to help her and her 75 year-old mother recover from the loss of Mr Rainford.

Geoff Hemingway gave me a £10 postal order for tips to the EP over recent months that he says he's overlooked. I can think of none. I drew up the joint family tree of of the Prince and Princess of Wales this morning. It shows their common descent from Henry VII and includes Diana's line from Charles I, Charles II and James II. Prince Charles of course has no lines of descent from those Stuart monarchs. [He is descended only from James VI & I]. I'm tickled pink. It's going to dominate the EP of March 30 when TRH visit St Gemma's and other locations in Leeds. It will be Diana's last big engagement before her accouchement.

Home at 6. We sat and ate coconut and watched Humphrey Bogart [also a distant cousin of the Princess too] in the Maltese Falcon.

-=-

Monday March 1, 1982

 To the YP for 8:30. I put Christopher's birth in the YP and EP announcements for tomorrow. Mum phoned to say that Sue isn't now going to Otley [hospital] until later, and so I went to see her at 2. Bless her, she was all packed like a refugee awaiting the ambulance. Christopher is 'prettier' and less swollen, and certainly 'bouncing'. Sue is totally captivated. The baby looked better in his going out clothes because the nightshirt supplied by Hyde Terrace is a grey, objectionable thing, which made him look like an orphan.  Sue says she hopes that people will call the baby by his full name and not 'Chris'. I fear she's on a loser here. The name, she says, was Peter's choice.

YP dismal. Kathleen was off commemorating the first anniversary of her father's demise. Read with some glee that the Succession Bill of Michael English was put off on Friday when it was opposed by the Tories. It now goes to the bottom of the Bills to be read, and no doubt die the death that Norman St John Stevas predicted.

Home to Ally at 6 in daylight. Chicken broth, dumplings, coffee, TV, books, bath, bed, &c.

-=-

Sunday February 28, 1982

 1st Sunday in Lent

Sunshine. Went to see Susie and our nephew Christopher Paul at 2. We were the only afternoon visitors. Sue looked so proud of the fine Nason specimen. I see what they all mean about the baby resembling Jim. We left Sue cuddling her son at 2. They move on to Otley [hospital] tomorrow.

On to the Gadsby residence. They have made tomato wine. They were all assembled but we didn't dine, because of an impatient chicken waiting at Club St. Karen and Steve want a son called Alexander James. Very grand.

Poor Uncle Tony is now redundant, and was in his vegetable patch playing with his broad beans. I went out to talk to him. The house and garden at St James's Crescent hold such memories for me - every brick, every corner of the garden brings back incidents from my childhood. We left between 6 and 7. The wine clouds my memory.

Chicken at Club St. Mum and Dad went to see Sue and Christopher again, and managed to have a hold of baby.

Saw 'Nancy Astor' again. Horrid. Bed t 10:30 but couldn't sleep. The roast chicken was playing up.

-=-

Saturday February 27, 1982

 Up at 8:30. Peter came to breakfast and gave us the full tale of Sue's long and difficult labour. A Caesarian section had been considered. She had an unpronouceable injection in the spine to numb the pain, and they used a funny vacuum thing to suck the baby out, which left him with a red ring on his poor little head.

I sat with a knotted brow. Dad thinks I'm addicted to paracetamol tablets. He is so eccentric.

Up to the Hermit at Burley Woodhead at 12 with Mum, Dad, Jim, Margaret, Peter. They went to Hyde Terrace at 2-3. Ally and I waited at Pine Tops. The baby is to be called Christopher Paul. He is, they say, the image of his paternal grandfather.

Home to Club Street and slept for a couple of hours before receiving Mum, Dad, Jim and Margaret for drinks and supper. We supped ale, ate salad sandwiches, and watched 'Dallas'. They left at 12.

-=-

Friday February 26, 1982

 Whilst eating our boiled eggs at 7:40 the phone rang. It was Mum saying Susie has been experiencing some pain all night and is beginning labour. I went off to work and was fed with bulletins throughout the day. 'Progressing slowly' in the afternoon, and so it continued throughout the evening. I worked through at lunch and arrived home at 5. 

We had fish and chips, took a bath, packed a suitcase, and went over to Pine Tops for 7. The vigil began. We watched TV with Mum and Dad. Mum phoned the hospital at 7:15 to be told that Sue was in a labour ward. Lynn, Dave and Frances came at 9 and stayed until 12:30. 'Granny' told Frances that she was about to have her 'nose pushed out'.

We phoned John and Maria to congratulate them on their Scottish baby news [due on August 14]. Spoke to Maria first who told us that John was out in the field with his sheep, goats and hens. One hen had apparently gone astray.

Lynn and Dave had only just left at 12:40 when the phoned trilled. Mum took the call. It was Peter. A baby boy was born at 12:24, just into Feb 27, weighing 8lb 14oz. No name has been decided upon as yet. Jim and Margaret arrived bearing the famous Johnnie Walker Red Label whisky, and we wet the baby's head. Jim had always insisted that the bottle of whisky was only to be consumed upon his demise.

 We sat until 4am, and then to bed.

-=-