Friday June 3, 1983

 Overcast day. Ally in a groggy condition and moody. _______. Poached eggs. Her sense of smell has increased and she hates the aromas from cupboards and drawers and thinks that everything she eats and drinks tastes 'off'. It must be ghastly. Workmen are digging up the road and everything in the house is vibrating. Ally went off to the AHA looking peaky, yet resolute. 

Denis Healey has apologised to the PM over his 'glorifying in slaughter' remark. It was beneath contempt. Princess Helen of Roumania is engaged to an English professor. The mother of the Duke of Roxburghe is dead. She was married to a Hambro. I phoned enquiring about coaches to London on June 11, and worry because it is the official birthday of the Queen on that day and packs of tourists might be cluttering up the transport heading south to witness the Trooping the Colour. A bad tempered receptionist at Wallace Arnold told me that they 'haven't turned anyone away yet' for bookings on that day.

Ally came tearing in at 12 and after splashing in the soapy depths we left, once again, on bus, boat and train for Tadcaster. The train part of the journey was quite peaceful until a band of Vietnamese refugees carrying screaming babies came and sat close to us. We were deafened by the time we hit Leeds. To Tadcaster for 3. We were ushered up to the top floor to see Mr Tyne. It was clear from the outset that we were going to be offered a position. Ally was sensational. She did something which immediately captivated this middle-aged executive. He said he could picture Ally behind a bar more than he could picture me, and added that I am the youngest looking 28 year-old he has ever set eyes on. However, he approved, and said that we can begin training in Middlesbrough on July 18 after Ally's one month notice to the AHA. We left in a state of shock and discussed our plan of action. We did not mention the baby but will go back to see Mr Tyne after having written confirmation of our appointment. Everything is falling into place. Will the baby bring a halt to our ambitions? This Tyne person was very reasonable and very Geoff  Hemingway-ish. Are we mad? Is our point of view completely crazy and we cannot see it? We shall not be downhearted whatever. Life has taken on a whole bright future. Home. Ally to bed at 9. I watched the news and a ghost story and went up to bed at 10:30. Denis Healey is shit of the week.

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Thursday June 2, 1983

 Ally's first ante-natal session with Dr Duck (can that really be her name?) at Paternoster Lane. A sunny and warm morning. We went together hand in hand. I sat in the garden of the methodist chapel until she emerged after about 20 minutes. She is still too early to be inspected and the doctor put the date of confinement at January 8. The birth can probably take place at the Bradford Royal Infirmary, and Dr Duck sees no impediment in our taking on a pub though advises Ally to give up work before the birth and earlier than she would have to do working at Chestnut House. We walked back to Club Street and I saw her onto a bus. 

Denis Healey, now grasping for survival, has accused the PM of 'playing in slaughter' in her reaction to the Falklands victory. This really is lower than anyone has ever stooped in pre-election muck raking. Mrs Thatcher has never, to my mind, taken on a gloating, victorious attitude at our defeat of the Argentinians, and always looks incredibly sad at the very mention of the Falkland isles. Labour is doomed. I'd love to see the SDP in second place, and Roy Jenkins says Labour will poll the lowest vote since 1922. I have told Ally that if a disaster somehow catapults Michael Foot into office then we will be taking the first boat out of the country.

Ally came in this evening close to collapse. The afternoons are not her best time she says, and she rapidly goes off at tea time. We had pork pies and peas, but Ally only had a sparrow's portion. She sat afterwards reading about stretch marks and baby feeding problems. Her condition makes her glum and emotional and at the slightest excuse she'll weep. She could easily get into a state about childbirth. It's so easy for me, isn't it?

Her Majesty was crowned 30 years ago this day. Watched a programme on BBC2 about coronation day. I always find the newsreel of the solemn anointing to be incredibly moving, and if anybody thinks that the Queen will one day abdicate they should take a look at the film because she could never lay aside that crown after making such vows and dedications before God and people. We are not Belgium. Bed at 10 o'clock.

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Wednesday June 1, 1983

 Thunder, lightning, rain. Sit looking out at the poor garden, yet to be touched this year. Ally out of bed feeling sick, but she went off to the AHA for the first time since her birthday. It was odd having nobody to talk to, and I passed the day bottling beer and tidying around. You'd be surprised just how long it takes to keep this humble yet comely house in a decent shape. Ally came home looking wan with a juicy piece of red steak in her handbag. I ate it like a wolf. Ally had a well-done morsel (rare meat being banned now for her, of course). She is nervous about seeing the doctor tomorrow and we lay in bed discussing the past, the present, and the future. ________. TV miserable. Coronation Street drama. Hilda Ogden is battling for her deceased brothers fish and chip shop. We also watched a documentary on contraception. In Thailand millions of eight year-old schoolchildren inflate condoms like balloons as part of their sex education. Odd.

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Tuesday May 31, 1983

 Sunshine. Slept until 10. Mr O'Brien phoned and asked us to return to Tadcaster on Friday at 3pm. Ally is horrified at this date until she remembered that Derek is off and she only has Patricia 'to get round'. I went out for a newspaper. The YP looks thin. The palace is denying that the Princess of Wales is pregnant. It is only a matter of time.

Ally padded around all morning in a dressing gown. Over cheese on toast we discussed why we want a pub. I then sat and watched her take a bath. ______________. 

We set out at 3 and arrived at the Tetley HQ at 4:15. Just in time. We sat in the lobby surrounded by silver cups which have down the years been awarded to the great dray horses. Ally admired the quaint lift. We went in and saw a Mr Drake. It was a waste of time really because although he approved of us and found that our personalities were not wanting he could not pass us on to see an area manager because of my non-existent bar experience. So why the hell did they bother interviewing us when they could clearly see from our application form that I am green and inexperienced? I also didn't like the way that everything at Tetley's is geared towards the man whilst Ally and her experience was brushed aside. Sam Smith's on the other hand regard the man and wife as a a joint inseparable partnership with one joint wage. At Tetley's I would receive £5,500 per annum, and Ally £1,500. We left after 20 minutes and returned to Bradford. We do not feel glum. If  I returned to Tetley's after having 6 months bar experience I think we'd crack them. Ate spaghetti. Ally eating a green ice lolly and then taking great pleasure showing me her green tongue. Phoned Mum. Sue and Peter are staying at Horton for a few days. They have been busy and had a visit from the Scottish branch of the family - just recovering from German measles. They also had Lynn, David, Hilda and Tony yesterday. Tony is working in Edinburgh and might not be back for our June 9 spectacular but will try. Dad is preparing to paint and needs all the help he can get. Saw Mrs Thatcher interviewed by Robin Day. She is so dynamic. I do love our PM.

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Monday May 30, 1983

 Bank Holiday in UK & USA

A filthy wet day. We lay in bed late and ate mounds of scrambled eggs when we eventually got up. Ally has spots on her arm and accuses the tiny occupants of the mattress of biting her. I think it's just a rash. We have over indulged on eggs lately and we are reminded that Frank insists that eggs give him a rash. Perhaps it's hereditary. Ally found a suitcase full of baggy, frilly clothes which she thinks will make suitable maternity wear, only if shorter. I took up a needle and thread and took a good 6 inches off everything in sight. A proper little David Emanuel. Two more Erroll Flynn films gave Ally hours of pleasure. The Elizabeth and Essex epic quite ghastly, followed by General Custer, or was it 'They Died with their Boots On'? We almost died with our boots off. Cheese omelette for tea. Just to keep our egg quota up. Then, yet another film The Goodbye Girl starring Richard Dreyfuss, which was good. Up to bed where we shivered beneath the quilt. Ally squealing at my cold extremities which happened to collide with hers ... our feet that is. I think we can say that a baby boy is to be Samuel. Joshua is now off the list for some reason, and Samuel is a family name after all. I have a cousin Sam incarcerated in the confines of a Carlisle hospital. Poor Sam. _______.

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Sunday May 29, 1983

 Trinity Sunday

Horrible bank holiday weather. A day of inactivity and quiet domesticity. It's hard to write vast amounts about doing nothing. All my powers of elaboration and embroidery are going to have to be called upon. Ally sat knitting her tiny lemon creations. It's hard to believe we are going to become parents. Exhilarating to say the least. We dined on bits of fish in plastic bags and swamped in sauce. Ally is eating better but still pulls a face at the mention of Yorkshire puddings and pink roast beef. We were preparing for a quiet evening in front of the TV when Karen and Steve came marching in to disturb the tranquility but still it was good to see them. Karen is large and expects her offspring to come at the August bank holiday. We told them of our interviews and Steve filled us in on the details of a recent car auction. Watched a documentary by Ludovic Kennedy on the Queen's first 30 years as a backdrop to our conversation. No doubt the BBC will show it again for the Golden Jubilee in 2002. They went off to see Jill and Tim at the Royal and then Bessie phoned. She is pleased to hear of our interviews which surprised Ally. She didn't think her Mum would approve of pubs and babies.

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Saturday May 28, 1983

 The smell in the kitchen is worse. Ally set about and gave everything a wash down. Dull day, overcast and cold. We decide not to go to Guiseley to see John and the children. He may prefer to spend some time with them alone. It's not often he gets the chance. I went out for another self certification form for Ally. Later, watched Dame Wendy Hiller in 'Pygmalion' followed by Erroll Flynn's 'Robin Hood'. We always giggle about Erroll Flynn. I think you know why. Ally has no vast appetite. Toast. I made an egg custard tart during 'Pygmalion', a simple operation to be sure. 'Where Eagles Dare' came on and we did nothing to stop it. It's a regular Bank Holiday feature film but we always forget the ending. Sat feet up on cushions watching Richard Burton grappling on the top of a cable car. All good stuff. Val Doonican ... snore ... zzz ... snore. To bed with square eyes.

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Friday May 27, 1983

 Ally feels so much better today. No nausea. We lounged in bed until late. Janette phoned to say the children are coming from Scotland and that they will be at John's on Victoria Rd tomorrow evening if we want to see them. John's taking them to Horton-in-Ribblesdale on Sunday. We really should go. I went out and collected a self certification form for Ally but I made a mess of it and threw it away. By 2030 we'll be buried beneath 18 feet of rotting printed gobbledygook. Ally later sat knitting tiny lemon baby clothes. She already has a bag full from Bessie which we were told to keep for our progency. She was also watching a corny, old film starring someone called Andrée Melly, of whom I know nothing. Is she perhaps related to George? Ate steamed fish. Ally had an afternoon nap and ate with me at 5:30. Something smells funny in the kitchen and we know not what. Like a body beneath the concrete in the cellar. Repugnant. Watched a ghost story which was slow. Bars of chocolate. Cocoa. Bed after 10. Slept well for a change. We discuss the pub/baby thing. Can the two go hand in hand? We think so but what will the brewery think? Let us see.

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Thursday May 26, 1983

Ally: spectacular

 Ally fought off the vomit for the day and off we went by bus and train to Tadcaster and Samuel Smith's brewery. We waited for ages in a clammy waiting room and were seen by a 17 year-old Mr O'Brien, an area manager. We seemed to please him, but it's hard to tell, and he sent us off to the pub until 3 when we returned to see another area manager who asked us to go away and not take up any offers from other breweries. Our ordeal was over. We have to go back and see a Mr Tyne, the managed house director. In the pub next to the brewery the landlord there says we've cracked it, but we refuse to enthuse. We have witnessed Mum and Dad build up hopes only to see them dashed. Ally was a brick and must have felt awful, but she didn't show it. She looked spectacular in a white jacket (bought on Tuesday) and the blue dress she bought for Dave Reed's nuptials last August. A hot and slow journey home from Tadcaster and we fell through the door sweaty and wilting at 7pm. Ally took to her bed and I had fish and chips and watched the FA Cup replay. Manchester United beat Brighton 4-0. Watched the election stuff and retired to bed feeling confident that Sam Smith's will make us an offer. Can we accept knowing what we now know?

Ally: May 26th

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Wednesday May, 25, 1983

 Ally's sick worsens. She can keep nothing down and is a wreck. I feel quite helpless and can only stand by and she grovels around in the bathroom. I have never known Ally to be off her food and my appetite has come out in sympathy. She stayed upstairs for much of the day. Mum phoned to discuss Dad's 50th birthday party in January. I was gripped with excitement. If only they knew of the little bundle we will be presenting them with at Epiphany. Mum chatted for half an hour and was in good spirits. They had a good week at Horton and wished us the best of luck for tomorrow. Whilst we talked Ally was being sick upstairs and there I was saying 'Oh yes, Ally is very well'. Throbbing headache continues. Most odd. I suppose it's the pressure. A night tossing and turning like some guilt ridden character in Shakespeare.

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Tuesday May 24, 1983

Ally: Thatcherish

 Ally still very sick and horrid. I pace silently around the house. I went out to the shops to buy a newspaper and called at the doctor to collect a self certification form only to find the place locked and bolted. One could be dying. A drab day. 

The general election news is getting me down. It's a drawn conclusion that Mrs Thatcher will be returned to power and so all this fuss seems futile. Mrs Thatcher will be the longest serving prime minister this century. 

Sarah phoned and I had a chat with her and Eileen. It feels so good not having to go into the office.

I'm in no mood to write. Throbbing headache. Warm afternoon. Ally and I into town where she bought a white jacket costing £16. Smart. Very Thatcherish. The vomit held off and she wasn't really with it.

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