Saturday March 12, 1983

 Disgracefully we lay amongst our crumpled bedding until after 9. Ally concocted breakfast while I threw on my clothes and went out to the little shop over the road to buy five pillows at 95p each from a confused Pakistani. Evidently the price is something of a phenomenon and Mama, who wants them for Waltergarth, cannot let this opportunity slip by. We had breakfast and then went to Bradford, that is the metropolis, to buy a chicken and oven gloves (for Mum on Mother's Day) and then came home in the choking cigarette fumes at the top op of the bus. Took a steaming hot bath and listened to Duran Duran thumping up from below.

John and Janette came at 2pm and they sat for half an hour before taking us up to Horton, and the chaos of the accumulated family. Janette has found a job from Easter selling caravans and accessories at Yeadon. ___________. We drove up to Horton with a poorly made tape of the (Rolling) Stones. Jagger seemed to be singing through his underpants. Furious activity at Horton. Dad and Jim were under the floor banging around and we didn't see them for hours. Mum sat with Margaret, Susie and Christopher, and we joined them. Christopher is a comedian and rolled around the room causing much hilarity. We dined at 6 - the grown ups at the dining table, and the children in front of the television, and afterwards we, that is Sue, Pete, John, Janette, Ally and I, went to the Station Inn at Ribble Head, where we congregated around the juke box and drank like fish. It was so good for us all to be together making merry.  Janette joked that we were celebrating John (and Maria's) wedding anniversary, which falls tomorrow. Peter grows more and more to be like John Cleese. Sue like a bean-pole, but looks well. ________. We remained 'after hours' and left at 12:30. The common-law wife of the publican, draped in chiffon, was playing billiards, looking acutely bored, and making eyes at every man in the place. Back at Waltergarth we had sausage sandwiches and a few glasses of wine before retiring. Poor John and Janette had to sleep on the settee.

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Friday March 11, 1983

 My usual egg with Ally. To the YP with our vital statistics but didn't get a chance ton see Geoff all day and so I locked them in a drawer until next week. We had a young 18 year-old German girl in the office for the day. She is related to Delius. Kathleen said: "I thought he was a Bradford chap?" I tried desperately not to mention the war but found myself talking about jews, the bombing of Coventry, Eva Braun, Klaus Barbie and the 'Butcher of Lyons' (joke). Kathleen gave me £3.55 and I walked up to Morrison's at lunchtime and bought a bottle of Liebfraumilch which we drank with cream buns in the afternoon to celebrate the final day of indexing the YP. After 110 years Kathleen has decided to axe it as part of the library cuts. Carol J was close to tears. I feel sure that she now regrets applying for redundancy but now finds the door firmly slammed behind her. Surely, 'President Carter' isn't going to keep her?

Saw a batch of 15 photos of the Prince of Wales, Pcess of Wales, & Prince William of Wales all at Highgrove to be released next Tuesday. The Daily Express says that the Prince (junior) will be flying to the 'colonies' with eighteen tons of Johnson's Baby Powder. Diana has exquisite teeth, you know.

Ally phoned Lynn ___________. I phoned Mama who says Henry is resigned to the worst and is in a dreadful state. Phoned Sue. She goes tonight to Horton. Phoned John. He is coming to us tomorrow. He seems to be out at every opportunty with Chris and Pete. Janette may be his concubine, but clearly abandoned. I told John to ring Lynn. Ally phoned Bessie. Cousin Beverley Tebby has miscarried. Hot bath. TV. Ally made some rum truffles for Mummy on Mother's Day and here I am writing this at 10:43pm. The horrid ice-skating championships are on the telly.

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Thursday March 10, 1983

 Geoff (Hemingway) approached me this afternoon and asked me to give him "within the next few weeks" a full run-down of mine and Ally's qualifications both in academic and in commerce, &c. He says he will compose a letter, on our behalf, and bombard his contacts in the brewery trade. He has really taken me under his wing. He says he has made some discreet inquiries about me, and smiling, says I am not the person out of the office that I am in it. Is he trying to say that I go berserk once freed from the quiet confines of the library? Somebody must have been filling him in.

Didn't hear any further news of Audrey Baker today and didn't phone anyone, with the exception of my wife. I phone Ally every day.

My hair is horrible. I've just been looking at it. I've seen an article in the Times about mens hair and now fancy a 'D.A. cut'. Good good, most men of my generation are now green and spiky. I left the ofice at 5:06pm and suffered because of it. Got no bus until 5:50, and didn't walk in the house until 6:50. Like a wounded puma. Ally brought me round. Avocado and prawns followed by lasagne. Cuddles, &c. Spent the evening typing our vital statistics for Geoff. Watched the ghastly 'Citadel' and to bed after 12.

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Wednesday March 9, 1983

 We were laying in bed at 7am with no particular enthusiasm until we heard the thud of the mail coming through the letter box. Ally scampered downstairs like a young lamb and came back screaming with letters from Tetley's and Sam Smith's breweries. The Tetley's application form looks best, but let's wait and see. At least this is something to go at. We had eggs and Ally's fresh bread and went our separate ways.

Phoned Mum. She had heard from Lynn. Audrey is still unconscious, supposedly sedated, and that she's on a machine to keep her lungs going. My God it sounds awful. I came back at lunchtime (to the YP) and found Geoff Hemingway whispering with Kathleen. He gave her the same treatment that he gave me yesterday, that I am too good an employee to lose. He then gave me a fiver for a tip, but I know of none. Had a chat with Steve Burnip. He's leaving in a month and wants to open a second hand book shop. Surely this redundancy caper will be the making of us folk in awful, dull jobs. Sarah says that Mrs Slocombe has told Austin-Clarke that I intended leaving anyway, with or without the redundancy money. The cow!

I sat in Park Square with a sandwich looking at the daffodils poking up through the soil. Will poor Audrey be around to see them in flower? This tragedy is such a blow. She is only 54. Phoned Ally. Not in a joyful mood. The hideous Derek is getting her down.

At home I was very positive and took up the phone and dialled five or six local pubs to ask about bar work. The landlord at the Oddfellows was the most interested and took down my particulars, and said he'd ring me when a vacancy occurs. The others were disinterested and very brief. We ate a very odd meal tonight. Veg soup, potatoes (baked), melted cheese, cold rice pudding from yesterday, and orange squash to drink. On Channel 4 Peter Bogdanov(ich) was talking about Shakespeare's 'Measure for Measure'.

At 7:15 I phoned poor David B who sounded shattered. He explained his mother's injuries, which are terrible. Her liver was 'cut in half' on impact, and that she will be unconscious until the weekend or even afterwards. She recognised Dave and Henry yesterday and squeezed their hands and moved her eyes in response to their questions. The internal bleeding has been stopped, but they must be prepared for a long wait. I offered our sympathy to him. He seemed utterly desolate. We watched TV and sat in solemn reflection. Dallas, the news, bed.

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Tuesday March 8, 1983

 Up and in the bath. The postman brought nothing from a brewery. David is 27 today and dear Auntie Mabel is 64. Ally remembered to post her card last night just before the post office closed.

I was perturbed to hear on the news that Princess Michael of Kent was attacked yesterday at the Ideal Home Exhibition by a mad 'wolf man' who attempted to bite Her Royal Highness.

At breakfast I told Ally I'll phone some pubs tonight to enquire about part time jobs. Boiled eggs and toast.

To the YP. _________. Geoff Hemingway tells me that he's asked Malcolm (Barker) on many occasions to find me employment, and now that he knows we are interested in a pub he will have a word with some top brass at Tetley's. He also said he will give me a reference or help with anything and do anything in his power to assist. He is such a good friend.

Later, feeling quite cheerful and tending to my spider plants, Mum phoned with some tragic news. Poor Audrey Baker had a car accident this morning at the crossroads at Pool Bank, and is in hospital with a fractured skull, two broken legs, and internal injuries. David with his father and brothers are at Leeds General Infirmary. Mum says Audrey is 'very poorly'. A gloomy afternoon reflecting on the insecurity of life. Audrey, happily going about her busy life yesterday, and today is flat out, precariously close to death.

Ally phoned Lynn at 4:30 and she said that Audrey was conscious after an operation and she had wished David a happy birthday. She is to have an operation on her internal injuries tonight. Apparently Lynn was passed the tearful stage and in a rage damning the motor car.

We had pie and peas. Phoned Auntie Mabel and wished her a happy birthday. She has had twenty three birthday cards and a visit from Marlene. I bottled beer. Obviously, I phoned no pubs. I am a useless object.

The nine o'clock news was pleasant. (Arthur) Scargill has once again been kicked in the naughty parts by his miners. They voted not to strike. Her Majesty has arrived in Canada, and it's still raining.

Watched a play on the BBC set in Ireland in 1959. To bed with Pepys but didn't look at it.

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Monday March 7, 1983

 Up at 6:44 and into our tub. This redundancy stuff is heavy on my sub-conscious.

At the YP I have a note from Anne (night staff) saying 'no miracle has occurred' whereby she can find the files for the news cuttings I insist on leaving her. Furious, I penned her a note quoting John Eliot, saying something to the effect that miracles 'will not get things done, get up and do it yourself and the Lord will be with you'. I expect an acid reply tomorrow, or even the sack because you know how Kathleen is overly devoted to the night staff. I think that perhaps Anne might be one of the three per cent. (It's company policy for three per cent of the work force to be of low intelligence).

Phoned Ally but didn't say much because someone came to see me and stood hovering. Carol J might be changing her mind. She was in a foul mood all day. Sarah came in to report on her Scarborough visit. They spent their evenings swilling Martini and playing cards.

I phoned Horton-in-Ribblesdale and Lynn answered. We sent her a £5 note for her birthday and she is going to buy perfume. Spoke to Mama. They had a couple stay for the weekend from Cheadle Hulme who have a niece who lives near the Hollywood. She laughed. Frances cannot understand why strange people have been eating breakfast in grandma's house. David in the dog house. He forgot to include Katie's name on Lynn's birthday card.

Tonight we had breast of lamb, and wrote letters to breweries. Tetley's, Matthew Brown and Bass North. Let us hope to God we hear something.

Coronation Street is dull. Ken and Deirdre are still in Malta. Ally is tending to her plants and a James Mason film is on the telly. I've seen it before. It's the one about the Roman Catholic boys school where evil is lurking in the shape of a demon English master who is possessing the minds of the boys. Ally not impressed. We also watched part one of 'My Cousin Rachel' starring Geraldine Chaplin.

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Sunday March 6, 1983

 3rd Sunday in Lent. Last Quarter.

Slept in David's bed. The slaves downstairs seem to begin work at dawn. Up at 10:30. We sat knee-deep in Sunday papers and had a massive cooked breakfast. Definitely fragile. David G fighting fit becaus his drinking capacity has been drastically curtailed in recent years. He drinks half pints, you know. Ally played us a waltz on the piano, now downstairs, and Dave took me down and showed me the barrels in the cellar, and just how to change them. He talked with great pride about his 'dear old dad', who taught him the rudiments of running the Hollywood. After breakfast we walked back to the Armoury. (It seems that the lads have stopped coming to the Hollywood on Sundays. Lily is quite upset about it). The pub was busy and I wanted to sit down and so we crossed the road to the Grapes. It's always the case that I just begin to feel human again when the bar shuts. Much reminiscing about Bournemouth '79 and our antics. Ally suggests a weekend at Blackpool. What fun that would be. Back to the Holly at 2. Chicken. I think we all had a chicken each. Sadie the dog is still looking at me as though I have three heads. We sat with grandad and watched the football and part 48m of 'Dombey and Son' and left at 6:30. Dave promises to visit in a couple of weeks. We were home at 9pm. Exhausted. We watched a programme on the Duke of Wellington's tenure of No 10 Downing Street. A cheap production. To bed at 10:30. Lynn was 25 today.

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Saturday March 5, 1983

 Our alarm woke us at 7, but it was too late really and we splashed in the bath like hyper-active porpoises. We left at 9:30 with our belongings in two bags, like vagrants, and headed to the bus stop. We arrived at the bus station with five minutes to spare and left for Manchester at 9:45. Ally in a pair of striped dungarees. Like a sexy Andy Pandy. Whatever happened to him? Manchester in an hour, and Stockport half an hour after that. I found Edgeley too, which is something of a fete. Found Glynnie thinner. Lily her jovial self. Joined the lads at a wine bar where the barmaid resembled a Mohican warrior, but looking good with it. Pleasantly pissed we went to Debenham's and took a candid photo of Steve's sister working in 'childrens shoes'. Steve wasn't with us and later we saw him escorting a young lady in town. He pretended not to see us. A massive dinner back at the Hollywood (Hotel). The dog, Sadie, didn't take to me, and cowered in the kitchen. Watched an ancient film on the telly (Diana Dors was 16 and that's years, not stones) and struggled to keep awake. 

At 7 I went into the bar where Lily allowed me to pull a few pints for the 'reglers'. I was slightly flustered when people asked for more than one drink. After an hour we were changed and out to the Armoury. We met the boys and went by taxi to the Chapel House pub, a recently 'done up' spot, full of plastic palms, and ____ men. Garry and Steve spent two hours wondering whether to chat up two young ladies and drove us crazy with their fumbling indecision. Billy enjoyed spinning Ally on a swivel chair. The drinks were warm. We walked a mile, and taxied a mile, and back at the Hollywood we sat with Lily. She terrified us talking about pub management. Couples are, she says, driven wild with temptation to run off with the first person who comes along and buys them a rum and peppermint. She was gloomy about the business to show us the down side, but doesn't deter us.

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Friday March 4, 1983

 A Spring-like day. We slept in the attic room at the top of the house and awakened at 7 when Frances came to our bed whilst Lynn made breakfast. A sweet, old fashioned little thing. We held her up at the window and she gleefully pointed at the sheep in the fields opposite.Katie has a cold and is in her cot gasping and snoring. Poor little thing. We had boiled eggs and toast. I went at 8 down the lane and got a bus to Leeds. Ally waved me off nursing Frances. David took her to Bradford because he has a meeting there at 9:30. At the YP Kathleen is still off and Sarah is in Scarborough with Austin-Clarke. Carol says it will be a wrench to leave the library but that it has to be done. I say that we must have a joint booze-up when our 'severance' occurs and Ally and the President Carter look-alike must be included. She agrees. I am now feeling easier about going. Obviously, I'm nervous. It's the only thing I have done since leaving school. For ten years I've been encased in this concrete block with no windows.

Ally phoned saying she is hungover. Went to 'my' Park Square and had a chicken and mushroom pie. Home on the bus reading a magazine dedicated  to our historic houses recently demolished to make way for adventure playgrounds and coal miners' social clubs. Very depressing. We ate liver and onions with tons of mashed potato. Ally in her 'Andy Pandy' dungarees and white shoes. She says Lynn and Dave do not share our enthusiasm about a pub, and that Lynn cannot take it in that I'm willing to accept voluntary redundancy. They must think I am a fixture at the YP. ________.

News: Watched the 9 o'clock news. The Queen in the US. Her Majesty's jewels are bigger than Nancy Reagan's. Prince William has arrived in Scotland. The Prince of Wales on an omniped at a youth club. Glynnie phoned at 8 to confirm our booking. To bed at 9:42.

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Thursday March 3, 1983

 YP hideous. Some workmen have gone up to the mezzanine floor and painted it with a canary yellow/pink combination. The smell of the paint and the diabolical rush of colour has given me a throbbing head.

At lunch time I went to the building society and deposited the sum of £5. Ridiculous maybe, but the sum is building up. The woman on the counter always looks at me with contempt. Silly cow. 

Ally phoned. She hasn't found a Denbyware egg cup for Lynn, and so we'll just give her money instead. I had my usual salmon sandwich on a bench in Park Square, but had to fight off the hungry pigeons. 

Home to Ally, head throbbing on the bus all the way, reading the YP magazine account of the Lofthouse pit disaster of 1973. Hardly the sort of story to put in the rag when the miners are on strike killing old ladies and holding the nation to ransom. I'd like to put Arthur Scargill down a mineshaft and fill it in. Who wouldn't? 

Ally in a dressing gown painting her nails. I took some pills and got in the bath. Recover somewhat. Watched the pathetic Christine Keeler on Nationwide regurgitating the Profumo Affair. She looks like someone you'd find behind a fish and chip shop counter in a Leeds backstreet.

Ally wearing a new blouse covered in tiny hearts. We had cheese and crackers and watched 'Crossroads' waiting for David B to come from his squash club, or wherever he goes on a Thursday evening. He came at 7:30 and drove us, puffing on a large cigar, to Guiseley. He is very serious these days. Lynn, pink, and breast feeding Katie, was watching the TV without sound so not to disturb Frances. We had a few glasses of sherry. David and I were despatched to the fish and chip shop and we called on John on the way. ________________.We ate at 9. The well stocked drinks cabinet was opened and Lynn gave us chocolate liqueuer, just to get ride of it. Bed there at 12.

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Wednesday March 2, 1983

 Some rain. I went out in a pair of striped blue canvas shoes which looked ridiculous on a damp Lidget Green morn. [Large deletion]. At lunchtime I telephoned Mum. They are decorating at Horton. She bubbled as usual and hadn't heard from any of the others. Some of my siblings don't know how to dial.

All whispers at the YP. So many people say they are going. Spoke to one in EP features, and one EP reporter says he wants to open a book shop. Mrs Slocombe is back with her face sewn up and looks like something from a Boris Karloff  movie.

Omelettes and beans at 6. We sat on the settee for three hours. _________. After 'Dallas' Ally took to her bed. The news was read by John Humphrys who I always think looks like a ventriloquist's dummy. The Queen is enduring floods and tornadoes  with the Reagans in Santa Barbara. One of President Reagan's aides has described HM as 'a trooper' for sticking to the schedule despite the weather. It will take more than a bit of inclement weather to deter the Queen from sticking to her agenda.

I have been thinking about Timothy Taylor's. Will my redundancy money be enough to cover a tenancy? We shall have to go along and see Lord Ingrow. For two weeks we have thought of little else than pubs and our future.

A programme on TV about 'old wives tales' was interesting. Cows do not sit down when it is about to rain.

Bed at 10 o'clock.

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