Saturday August 14, 1982

 Sunshine. Ally and I had slept on a camp bed on Trevor and Terry's sitting room floor. We left at 10 for Eston, and got there in about one hour. Ally looked delicious in her new dress and shoes. Gill in a Laura Ashley maternity number. We had a quick pint in a pub opposite the church. The wedding was at 12. A typical wedding. The bride, poor thing, looked almost drab in a soiled gown. A cast off from her sister's nuptials. The vicar, as usual these days, asked us not to throw anything inside the churchyard. The hymns were drab, but Graham had us shaking with hysterics at his remarkable baritone. On to a social club for the 'reception'. Abysmal food. Egg sandwiches, corned beef pasties and that sort of thing. The bridegroom's parents were slightly more 'up-market' than the family of the bride, and people crawled under their tables when the father of the bride, pissed, clad in a kilt, made a progress around the guests flashing his privates. A party of heavily tattooed builders soon demolished the buffet and by the time we got to the table we found nothing but empty plates. The barmaid had only one full arm and a ghastly pink stump where able bodied people usually have a second arm. She somehow managed to hold a pint glass in her stump [she had an elbow joint] and hobble to the beer taps and back splashing the peculiar northern ale everywhere in the process. Very off putting. 

Ally went for a chat with the mother of the groom, and declared her to be a sweet old woman. Consumed gallons. Gill was very amusing and we do so enjoy pulling people to bits. The bride's mother changed into carpet slippers. Disco music throughout. The pub was above a betting shop and when we emerged into the sunshine at 5pm to wave goodbye to the bridal pair heading to Wales, we clashed with the men putting a tenner each way on 'Sunny Boy' running at Haydock Park. Back to Newcastle. Dined with Trevor and Terry [or is the feminine 'Teri'?] on goulash. Bed. Hot.

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Friday August 13, 1982

 A fried repast with Graham and Gill. Ally has a poor appetite since her attack of botulism. All lethargic. We went out shopping. Gill wants net curtains to deter a Gloucestershire nosey parker. No joy. Ally bought some delightful blue shoes from Top Shop. Graham says they make her look like a pixie or garden gnome, but then he is very conservative. Handbag too. [Oh yes, and she bought a new blue dress on Wednesday. Still, she hardly ever buys anything new]. Lunched at the White Horse at Thornton and spent £9 on a ploughman's lunch. We did eat 3lb of cheese each. Back at Club St we packed and left for Newcastle at 4:30. I slept for most of the journey. They were laughing at me sprawled in the back of the car with my mouth wide open. To the Thirsty Farmers Bar at the Europa Lodge Hotel - drinking hideous gassy Tetley's. Gill's brother Trevor arrived with his live-in girlfriend, Terry [Teresa Weymes]. To a pizza place in the middle of Newcastle. Some people say that the people, the noise, ther atmosphere of Newcastle is so like Ibiza. Slightly older. Graham and I had the folded up pizza [calzone]. Ally wasn't hungry and I finished her lasagne. Poor Terry upturned her very hot pizza onto her knees and scolded her legs. Fortunately she was wearing jeans. Graham got a parking ticket. It's £10 these days.Back to Trevor and Terry's modern little house which is overlooking an impressive man-made lake in the middle of an housing estate. Everywhere in Newcastle looks new. The closest I have been to Newcastle was to Washington New Town in 1973.

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Thursday August 12, 1982

 Graham and Gill arrived just as we got in from work. Gill looking enormous and still hell bent on calling a female child Siobhan. A boy will be Matthew after the Rev. Lynn. We sat with a beer and talked about Coleford. Splashed in the bath and went out to the Bod at 7:30 for an aperitif before having a pizza at Mama Mia's on Manningham Lane. The service at the restaurant was poor, which is unusual. On to Wilsden after 9 to meet Philip and Carol Middlebrough at the packed Malt Shovel. Graham attempted to escape but I persuaded him to hang on. The place was full of heavily pregnant women from the local relaxation class, and Ally sat amidst them looking out of place. Back to Philip and Carol's. I had a Drambuie. Their pet hamster is dead. I went to pay my respects on the rockery where he is laid to rest. Home late.

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Wednesday August 11, 1982

 Wednesday. We are both much better. Ally leapt like a young gazelle from bed and splashed in her bath. Good to see her returned to some robustness. 

At the YP I sent a memo to Mark Parry, and within minutes he was by my side saying he had accidentally dropped my claims sheet in the bin and 'Oh dear, it won't happen again'. So, I'm still waiting.

Mum phoned twice this morning. First to say that they saw Karen last night, and secondly to say that Karen has suffered a miscarriage and is in the women's hospital at Roundhay. Poor girl. What a time she's had. John is coming to do some 'pipe boxing' on Sunday when we will be in Middlesbrough. Luxury.

Dave Middleton from Kitchen Studios wrote to confirm they are installing the kitchen on Monday and Tuesday next week. Hard to believe that the days of Yorkshire pudding and roast beef are here. It's a shock to the system and we cannot believe that in a few days time the house will be full of workmen  installing a £1300 kitchen. Luxury.

Mum and Dad have visited a pub at Wetwang near Driffield - too far away really. Sue said she would cry if they went there. They're still keen on the pub at Linton.

Maria has been in touch. The baby won't be here until September.

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Tuesday August 10, 1982

 Poor Karen's been at Hilda's since Saturday feeling unwell. A miscarriage is threatening.

I am much better, but Ally is still weak and looks ghastly. Struggled onwards to the YP. At 12 I walked to the metropolis with Sarah. She immediately through herself into a verbal attack on _____________.

Home to find Ally tucked up, fully clothed. I joined her and climbed into bed for an hours slumbering. The poor, tired Angel. We went downstairs at 7 and had tomato soup, and omelettes - something light.

Dave L phoned to say he was coming over but we put him off until next week. Back to bed at 9:30. I read Agatha Christie.

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Monday August 9, 1982

 Miss Jacqueline Myers is 26 today. We have heard nothing of her since Ally's birthday when, I fear, she almost came to blows with Elaine Allinson over the Falklands conflict. We sent her a card and demanded a meeting.

YP full of the usual delights. Has Henry Vyner, former owner of Studley Royal, remarried? This was today's thrilling question. I passed Mark Parry in a corridor and he said not a word about my outstanding payment. Not that I really expect him to remember little me. 

Home. Ate bacon and tomato sandwiches. Later we were both gripped with expectations of vomit, and Ally went ahead and spewed up. We collapsed into bed and lay pitifully belching and groaning. It's our first joint attack of botulism. Loving is sharing.

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Sunday August 8, 1982

 9th Sunday after Trinity

Day of activity. After a full-English I took to removing wallpaper and laying on the polystyrene tiles. It's a religious thing now at weekends. Ally, in a temper, went out to dig furiously in the garden. I switched on the TV and caught the last ten minutes of 'Jezabel' starring Bette Davis. They don't make 'em like that anymore. Ally recovered her composure and came back sweetly. We had onion soup, pizza and chips, and sat grinning at each other across the table. Funny how the pendulum swings?

To bed early again. A hot night. Restless romps. Penny, the poodle, dwelling at Mary's barked and complained throughout the night.

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Saturday August 7, 1982

 A fried repast for the four of us. We were joined in our bed at 8:30 by Master Christopher with an engaging smile and sturdy brown legs. An adonis boy. He needed showing off and after breakfast we carried him off to Pudsey and our first port of call Karen, Mrs Stephen Sanderson. Obviously pregnant and going about her morning chores. Steve was out playing cricket, or more likely lubricating his tonsils. After a few drinks we moved on to Jill and Tim's. We also received lubrication here. Tim's foot improved. Then on afterwards to Wilsby where Christopher was nursed by his great-auntie Hilda, who was covered in dust from the ongoing renovations. Tony is a right little John Vanbrugh. The dog, Pepper, attempted to bite anyone taking an interest in Christopher and the visit was taken up with fighting off the yapping beast. Back to Bradford at 5:30. Sue and Pete took C home and Ally and I sat until after 8 and struggled up to bed. Thoroughly bushed.

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Friday August 6, 1982

 Tired, sick and hungover all day. Not worth it really. Went out at lunch and had a massive salad roll and a salmon and cucumber sandwich. Sat in Park Square looking at pigeons. Why do we humans make life so hard for ourselves?  I want to be a pigeon. 

YP a sorry state. Found some composure at 2 or 3pm. Felt like I'd died and joined Jesus in his all encompassing bossom.

Home at 6. Joined at 6:30 by Sue, Pete and Christopher. The baby played for a while and then went to bed in the Flying Pigs Room, sleeping in his pram, A bonnie lad. A combination of his mother and Jim. Susie's smile, and Jim's nose. We ate curry and watched TV. Question: should Jim and Margaret be included in the PC1656 leaving party? I think that perhaps they should be made a special case. I am numb with exhaustion. Sue and Ally went up to bed. Pete and I watched a late film, and I snored in my armchair.

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Thursday August 5, 1982

 Pine Tops has been sold to a sailor, for the asking price. Rejoice. 

Hot. A Jim and Margaret session.  They'd be called Jim and Margaret sessions even if they included Soraya Khashoggi, Lord Soames and Norman St John Stevas, MP. Mum and Dad came at 7:45 with Jim and Margaret. Tony and Hilda followed an hour later and we had fish and chips. We moved the piano from one end of the room to the other. Drank vast quantities. Handed around the Malcolm Fawbert letter and his Wilson kinswomen disowned him. 'He isn't one of us', they say. We made merry until well after 1am. Things could have become quite nasty when the conversation turned to John. ___________. We changed the subject. Cheese toasties. Bed at 2am.

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Wednesday August 4, 1982

Diana: matronly

 The radio alarm sounded at 6:44 and Ally was up and in the bath without any persuasion on my part. I remained in bed singing 'God Save The Queen' [using the old traditional words because a new lefty, highly offensive version has been published this week]. Today is the 82nd birthday of Queen Elizabeth The Queen Mother and the christening of Prince William of Wales.

Humid. YP dull. Saw a few photographs on the wire of the christening at Buckingham Palace. The Princess of W in a hat which made her look 'matronly'. Like someone on the platform at the Brighton conference. In her defence she cannot have had much free time to go out and buy one since her accouchement.

I sat outside writing this evening. Ally was assaulting the sitting room with the vacuum cleaner. News at Ten. Poor. Bed.

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