Bank Holiday in UK & Republic of Ireland
Up with the larks. Ally and I spent the morning cutting sandwiches, making sausages on sticks, &c. James, one of the godfathers arrived, and an order came through to the kitchen to make sandwiches for him. Am I am a servant, or what?
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| The Cricketers. |
Afterwards we decamped to the Cricketer's Arms at Easton just for a few, and left at 8:30. A good journey. Home to Bradford at 12. Bessie will miss us. I think we have helped this Christmas.
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Bank Holiday in the UK & Republic of Ireland
Vast breakfast was followed by 'Ben Hur' and a swift one at the Plough. Tony, who is a godfather tomorrow, is now at York University, and now realises that the north of England isn't all mill chimneys and scenes reminiscent of Coronation Street.
At dinner tonight we had roast lamb and I caused a sensation by making Yorkshire puddings. Why do folk think they can only be eaten with beef?
James Bond afterwards. I cannot cope with Bond and went and did the washing up. The Rev and Mrs Matthew Lynn called in. Ally and Bessie prepared a table for the baptism tomorrow. Forty eight million sandwiches to cut tomorrow.
Andrew and I watched 'Convoy'. It is one of those dreadful films which would be funny if it wasn't trying to convey some sort of message.
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| Cart & Horses. |
Food in Edwardian proportions yet again. Massive fried breakfast. Frank is very good with the baby, and seems to be one of the few people capable of calming him. He looked at our Lanzarote photos and talked about his holiday at the end of January. He fancies Madeira.
Spent only half an hour at the Cart and Horses where numerous members of the Lynn family were assembled. Trevor Lynn, Gill's brother, and Teri Weymes announced their engagement yesterday. Back at Chillandham Cross at 3 Frank and Bessie went out for a stroll and I raided the drinks and poured us all an enormous one. Watched Peter Sellers in 'Two Way Stretch'.
Enormous dinner. Roast beef, Yorkshire pudding. Ally wore one of my old shirts, and her mother's ruby necklace. It is rumoured to have cost £5,000. Afterwards we were unable to move. Graham slept on the floor behind the settee. Coincidentally we watched an Agatha Christie play on the telly about a body behind a settee, starring Penelope Keith. Eerie. The only difference was that our body was snoring very loudly, and occasionally breaking wind.
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Christmas Day
My first Christmas Day away from my parents. Up at 9:30 drinking tea. I inspected the Christmas tree. Not good. It has no lights since they fused several nights ago. A very disappointing specimen. Presents and wrapping paper everywhere, like 'Sale of the Century' (a dreadfully low TV programme designed for the old and greedy). Phoned Mum.
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| Chilland Barn. |
To Chilland Barn for drinks with Freddie and Avril Hargreaves. I'm jealous of the house. Bessie became merry on the wine. At 1:30 we returned for lunch which Ally and I helped to organise. Bessie does get herself in a fluster. The full works. Poor baby Matthew wailed throughout and consequently Gill was absent for most of the meal. Our plates were piled high. It is Graham's theory that you are not greedy if you manage to eat everything, and only become so when when food is left on the plate. We had the pudding in the sitting room after The Queen, who talked about Frobisher and Drake and the Falklands and, for the first time in many years, from Windsor Castle. We all dropped off to sleep beneath our paper hats and our snores drowned out the TV which was awful anyway. Graham and Gill went to the Rectory for 5. We watched Agatha Christie's 'Death on the Nile'. Felt sproggy, no doubt caused by the burning logs. Bed by 1am.
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The eve of Christmas. To the YP for the age-old tradition of present swapping and merriment. We always sit behind the filing cabinets being hideously cheerful with each other. Kathleen especially is like Mother Teresa of Calcutta, and other wrinkled saintly persons. I gave Mrs Slocombe the soaps that she had given to Sarah. It all went off splendidly. I'm hoping for an Oscar. The Asti Spumante saw us through to 12:30 when we drifted away.
Ally came to collect me in the little yellow Lada and we left immediately for Winchester. I clutched a bottle of Dry Martini all the way, sipping leisurely. Ally was bright as a bobbin (or is it a new pin?), and nearing the journey's end she serenaded me with carols. At Chillandham Cross for 6:30. Saw Matthew for the first time. He is such a tiny person. Everyone says he looks like Frank, but all babies look like Frank. Little, bald and sleepy.
Ally was shagged out and didn't want to go out which upset Graham. We sat with Bessie and Frank and retired at 12.
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Met Ally at Rackham's at 6:30 and we spent two hours walking around the shops. They stayed open until 9 tonight for the maniacal, hysterical shoppers. Bought napkins for Bessie and a dressing gown for Frank, &c. Home. Pork pies by the fire. Mario Lanza warbling in the background. Ally gave me a typewriter! I never guessed. She loves the amethyst ring. A perfect fit. Duran Duran's LP. Exhausted.
Noel! Our second married one.
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Shortest Day
I'm not feeling 100 per cent.
Hasn't 1982 been a momentous year? Prince William, Koo Stark, the Falklands War, Princess Grace of Monaco, the loss of Arthur Askey, tumbling inflation, 76,000,000 unemployed. I had no dental treatment all year.
To Guiseley at 7:30 with a sack of presents. Mum and Dad have a new car, a Renault 5, which is four years old, and formerly the motor of Mr Webster, a YP printer. John made a flying visit and beat a retreat, after looking at his presents, to see Chris and Pete. Carol J saw John last night in the White Hart at Pool with an unidentified lady, clearly the mental nurse Janet. (She's a nurse who looks after mental patients at High Royds Hospital, not mental herself of course). He is a lad, my brother.
Swapped gifts with the Nasons and devoured pies and sandwiches. We kissed goodbye until after the festivities. On to Thorpefields where Lynn and Dave were listening to Christmas carols around the plastic tree. I would never have thought it of them. The tree that is. Swapped gifts here too and left at 12. Shattered. Despite all the criticism I think that the Pantry (as I call the Lada) goes very well.
Thrilling luncheon with Sarah, Margo and Carol J at Da Mario's (as usual). Devoured the usual panzerotti and gallon of wine. The dark, Latin waiter took a fancy to Margo and she got extra cream on her Black Forest gateau as a result. It was a sombre affair quite in keeping with tradition. I only hope I'll be gone from the library by this time next year, though I cannot see how.
I am going to have to bring all my very great acting powers to the fore on Friday at the annual exchange of Christmas gifts twixt the library staff. I am giving Mrs Slocombe the Bronnley soaps which she herself gave to Sarah on Sarah's birthday only a month ago. We believe that Marilyn Wheeler gave the soaps to Mrs Slocombe, who then passed them on to Sarah, who then gave them to me to give back to Mrs S! So wonderfully wicked and fun.
The Lada estate is here. We went over to Pudsey at 8 with our cards. Jill and Tim came and Di and Paul brought a video recorder and we watched our wedding tape. Home at 12 after two glasses of cucumber wine.
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Yes folks, it's Christmas time and once again Michael Rhodes is going down with pneumonia. It's the same every year. Santa brings presents for everyone else but me. Oh no, not me. I get the snots.
We are laying our hands on a motor car as from tomorrow for the two weeks until the end of the festivities. A Lada which is costing us £103. J. Paul Getty all over again. It will please Precious, who secretly despises being car-less, and we can play at Santa Claus without the use of public transport.
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4th Sunday in Advent
A day at John's flat. Struggling with cold. Joined by Mum and Dad. Drinking, and eating pork pies until 6. Mum doesn't know that Janette is coming down for Christmas and for an indefinite period afterwards. This news may not be well received. I will be glad to be out of it in Winchester. John drove us home at 7:30 and then went off to play squash with Chris Ratcliffe at Harehills. Ate at 10. Bed afterwards.
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I was awake at 8:30 listening to Dad pottering around. We emerged for breakfast. We regret last night's excesses, but I didn't feel too bad. Brewed coffee (we have a new coffee-maker from Bessie). I cannot write. Everything is so bitty.
Over to Guiseley at 10. To Thorpefields, Lynn and Dave's new home. A good, solid family-sized house which they'll be able to fill with babies. Spent the whole day travelling between Burley and Guiseley in a large van, loading and unloading. Ghastly.
To Sue's afterwards, and then out at 8 to the Station (Hotel). Felt shattered. We consisted of: Ally, I, Dave L, John, Jill, Tim, Sue, Pete, Lynn, Dave B, & Chris and Peter came on in at 10:30. Mr & Mrs Brotherwood too. Tony in a trilby. To the flat afterwards. Not a large turn out, but fun. _______ came with her tiny, yet perfectly formed Duran Duran friend and thery proceeded to copulate on the settee. It was great viewing. Spent the evening avoiding toad-like people. John's neighbour, a nurse from the asylum, by the name of Janet, arrived and grabbed hold of John and held his attention all night. A very forward young lady.
Dave L, Tim and I went across the road to a flat above the fish and chip shop to investigate reports of another lively party taking place, but found nothing but a very old woman tucked up in bed. Felt like Michael Fagan, the intruder who entered the Queen's bedroom.
Back at John's: Sue was in good spirits, and brought the house down. (Peter) Lazenby arrived late and stood cuddling Ally asking me to 'take care of her'. Jill informs us that my cousin's wife, Jennifer Myers, is expecting her third child next summer. Janet took John off to her flat to inspect her Beatles LPs, and the party drifted away into the ice and snow. Ally and I found a bed.
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