Wednesday September 22, 1982

 Sent for an oasis continental quilt. The so-called TUC 'Day of Action' which I did my very best to ignore. I walked to the interchange at 8 and caught a 72 bus coming out hotly pursued by picketing transport workers carrying ridiculous banners. The YP [and EP] editorial staff had almost a full turn out, but the damage was done because no newspapers were published today. 

I sat reading the nationals from yesterday. Princess Grace is to be buried beneath a marble slab shortly. She is still lying aroud unburied. Prince William of Wales has had his first whooping cough vaccination. Half the population of the Lebanon is murdering the other half, and I cannot understand why. Foreign policy has never been my strong point. The Swedish government has fallen. But that is all yesterday's news.

Strolled out at luncheon. Leeds didn't appear to be suffering because of the nation-wide strike, but then I do tend to walk around unseeing. Kathleen gave us wine.

Home by train at my usual time and walked from the city centre to my dwelling to find my wife cooking dinner. Corn on the cob and Shepherd's Pie. Marriage is the greatest joy obtainable under the heavens I suspect. Sat laughing at Cyril Smith MP. He's a big, fat Liberal. Ally is furious about Arthur Scargill, and stood ironing scorning his childishness. 

We went to bed at 10:30 and sat talking about a winter holiday. It looks like Lanzarote in December. I will have to write to John and Sheila first.

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Tuesday September 21, 1982

 A dark, wet morning. Ally was gleefully splashing in the bath and her cheerfulness brought me round. She scampered off to work at 8:15 and I spent the day hanging green wallpaper. I nipped into Bradford this morning and bought another roll of paper and a tin of gloss. Back to it. Didn't break off until nearly 6. I'm sick of the smell of gloss paint and paste. Ally phoned a few times but it was always when I was at a crucial point on a ladder, and so the chat was brief. Listening to the radio all day almost drove me around the bend. Do you think that perhaps all radio DJ's are gay?

Ally was home at 5:30 beaming at me through the kitchen window. We ate liver and onions, but I was hungry afterwards. I must be all the hard work I'm doing. Sat shivering with cold until 10 because we had all the windows wide open to allow the apple white gloss to dry. Ally sat looking through cookery books, a favourite pastime. Deciding on the menu for Friday when Mum and Dad come to dinner. We made pancakes [for the seafood pancakes] and watched an Agatha Christie play. Bessie phoned with woeful tales of her sisters. Hilda [the younger of the two surviving sisters], seems to be dying of cancer, and Joan [the elder]  has just spent two weeks down in Hampshire ________. Bed at 10:30.

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Monday September 20, 1982

 Rain. Went off to the YP wearing a quilted jacket and looking remarkably like Mick Jagger. Haven't had a coat on my back since last winter. YP dull. Margot and Carol went to a SOGAT meeting upstairs at 12. I couldn't bring myself to go, but afterwards regretted the decision because by all accounts it was amusing. I am told that when I turn up for work on Wednesday I will be fined £50. Just how do they hope to get the money from me? They cannot access my wage and if they expect me to voluntarily give up nearly a weeks money they'll have a very long wait. Arthur Scargill will be in the Lords, and Zara Phillips in corsets.

Sarah went to a 'house warming' at Carol's on Saturday. Every carpet in the poky little house has huge swirling, migraine inducing patterns.

Phoned Mum, who says it is safe to cash the cheque. Aren't we lucky? Tonight: fish and chips. Undercoated the windows. Watched 'Minder'. Ally sat looking at holiday brochures.

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Sunday September 19, 1982

 15th Sunday after Trinity

Hideously hungover. Breakfast with Mum, Dad, Ally and John. Mum always burns the toast until it's black. Collapsed afterwards. Watched 'The Dam Busters', Dad giving his own commentary on the film throughout. Hilarious. John brought us home at 4. I was almost sick. It was touch and go. Had fish fingers at 6. Watched a dreadful Michael Caine film. 'Tales of the Unexpected' followed, and once again the conclusion was expected.

Decide to have the day off tomorrow and make some progress with the decorating.

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Saturday September 18, 1982

 Mist at first, but very warm later. Up at 8:30 and undercoat the sitting room door before breakfast. At 9:30 I broke off to watch the funeral from Monaco. One of the most moving things I've ever seen. Prince Rainier and Princess Caroline looked pathetic. Shattered and broken by grief. The Princess of Wales was seated next to Nancy Reagan and both ladies were making use of their handkerchiefs. What a great honour for Mrs Reagan to be seated so close to the divine Diana.

Paint and hung wallpaper all afternoon. To Pine Tops in a hot sweat at 6:30. Surprised to find no food laid out and drew the conclusion that we must be dining out. For some reason I thought we'd be having a buffet supper. Mum gave us all a tiny card each, and on opening the cards we all found a cheque for £250. Dumbfounded. Dad must have had a fortune fall into his lap since Tuesday, and so they have given us £1,000 to us, the children. Lynn adopted a worried look and offered her cheque back saying they couldn't afford such a gift. Lynn is daft. As if they'd wruite four cheques they cannot afford?

After a few gins we went to the Fox [and Hounds] where Mum had booked the little room, only to find it occupied. The manageress was unhelpful and downright rude, but we had a pleasant table by a window upstairs. Seven of the nine had T-bone steaks. Dad paid for the lot and the bill came to over £90, which wasn't too bad. Mum and Dad were in better shape than on Tuesday. It must be sinking in by now. Onward to Pine Tops for drinks [again]. Showed then the letter from Malcolm Fawbert. The fool. To bed at 4am. Horrific.

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Friday September 17, 1982

 Prince Andrew has sailed home on the Invincible to be met by Her Majesty and 1500 flag wavers. Reminiscent of the return of [Sir Francis] Drake in the 1580s. 

The Princess of Wales is to represent the Queen at the state funeral in Monaco tomorrow. They are now saying that Princess Grace suffered a stroke before crashing her car, and that she was on a life support machine until nothing more could be done. Prince Rainier had the agonising experience of having to give permission for the life support machine to be switched off.

Dad and Mum had lunch at the Fox and Hounds yesterday with Jim and Margaret. Hilda and Tony were supposed to be there too. Mabel had a good night, and brought a coffee maker.

TV abysmal. Bed early.

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Thursday September 16, 1982

 New Moon

Back to the YP. Surprisingly, the girls are holding out from returning to the union. 

Princess Grace.

Poor Princess Grace is lying-in-state in an open coffin. Someone in the office phoned to ask who was the last British monarch to have a lying-in-state in an open coffin. Never, says I. I cannot state how things were done in Ethelred the Unready's time, but I know that the first lying-in-state of a monarch, with lid firmly nailed on, was for Edward VII, in May, 1910. Victoria didn't have a public lying, and the Hanoverians didn't do it. Can you imagine people queuing to file past George IV, for instance? In those days the passing of the sovereign was a time for celebration. The first lying-in-state at Westminster Hall was for Gladstone in 1895. I suppose the next one will be for David Steel. Ally doesn't approve of Princess Grace being on public display. She gasped. She has never seen a dead body.

Ally grouted the kitchen tiles. Watched 'High Society'. Very sad. Princess Grace put Monaco on the map. Salad butties and cocoa. To bed after a programme about the extermination of the jews. Such a depressing night.

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Wednesday September 15, 1982

 Up at 10. Ally looked and felt awful and stayed put. I took champagne with Mum, Dad and David and had a fried breakfast. Since out botulism attack Ally cannot stand the smell of bacon, and so it looks as though my future home life will be baconless. 

Saw on the 12:30 news that Princess Grace of Monaco died last night from injuries sustained in the car accident she had on Monday. We were led to believe that the princess had suffered a broken leg and collar bone but was not seriously injured. It's a terrible loss. Princess Grace was beautiful, even in her 53rd year. Aso injured was the 17 year-old Princess Stephanie, but how seriously we do not know. 

Ally, Dave G and I set out and walked to Sue and Pete's at 1:30, where Dave saw Christopher for the first time. He is s sturdy, tiring bundle. I told her about Princess Grace, and she asked: 'who is she exactly?' Poor girl. Never a bright spark when it comes to European royalty and Hollywood stars. Rid ourselves of Glynnie at 3, and got a bus home. Dave B came [again] at 6 to fix the notoriously leaking pipe. We ate a meatless stew with Yorkshire puddings and retired early. It was Frank's 55th birthday today.

Dave L phoned and I placed an advert [in the paper] for him.

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Tuesday September 14, 1982

 Sun. To the YP. Phoned Guiseley at 11:30. They had had a champagne breakfast. After 25 years Papa has ceased to be a police constable. Spoke to Dad. He appreciacted the Churchill quote. I thought he would. 

Busy day. Brisk walk at lunch. Spoke to Ally. She had phoned Mum at breakfast time too. Met Glynnie at the station at 4:55 where we took the train to Bradford. Dave has taken on the responsibility of the Hollywood following Jim's death. At Rue Club Ally was gliding around in her finery and Dave B was attending to a leaking pipe. Bathed and dressed in ten minutes and at 6:30 we were in Burley-in-W. Lynn's bulge is bigger. Mum says that the shape of bump determines that the baby is a boy. On to Guiseley at 7 for bubbly with Mum, Dad and John. Sue and Pete arrived simultaneously. Mum, dressed in green, wasn't the usual bundle of joy she usually is. Both she and Papa seemed stunned. I suppose that retirement has that effect. At 7:30 we took them to Giovanni's - a complete surprise. We had a few gins first and ate at 8:30, or so. I had steak au poivre, or something. Ally had a sirloin done in sherry. A pleasant but noisy dinner. John and Pete behaved like big kids together. John told me [at our end of the table] that he was supposed to phone Janette, but had fortgotten in all the excitement. I could see Mum at the other end of the table straining. It's cruel and Mum, Dad and John don't see eye to eye on _____________.

Dad had a cake iced in blue. Much Sambuca and Strega, coffee and chunks of gateau. Back to Pine Tops for more stiff drinks and then to bed after squabbling with John about Mrs Thatcher.

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Monday September 13, 1982

 Excitement at the YP. A ghastly SOGAT official came in to lecture the naughty library department. We haven't paid our union subs for eight weeks and have no intention of doing so again. Library solidarity has never been more necessary or vital. He told us that by dropping out of the trade union we will cause a 'stink'. I cannot wait. A wind of change is blowing through the Yorkshire Post library. The SOGAT representative, a bearded communist in a C&A suit, fumbled and coughed into his briefcase, and said nothing remotely constructive. He hasn't got a leg to stand on.

Went out at lunchtime and bought Dad a leaving card and inscribed it with a quotation from Churchill. 'Now this is not the end. It is not even the beginning of the end. But, perhaps, it is the end of the beginning.' Quite appropriate I thought.

Tried phoning Glynnie numerous times. He's coming here at 5 tomorrow. Chicken pie for dinner. Piglet is an exquisite cook.

Press reports say that the Waleses will take Prince William with them to the Australian continent next year. I don't know how accurate this is.

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Sunday September 12, 1982

 Very hungover. Did not hear from Mama. I think we are now out of favour. 

We roasted a chicken and watched Kenneth More playing the legless war hero Sir Douglas Bader, 'Reach for the Sky'. Nauseating. Had a splendid dinner at 6. Sat cuddling on the settee afterwards.

We do, as a family, the Rhodeses, drink far too much. A Hell-raising pack we are. Tears. Parties always end in tears. We shall certainly have to behave next Tuesday. We do not want Dad's [leaving] do wrecking.

To bed after 'Tales from the Unexpected' which in fact are always expected. Is it because I have an author in me?

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