Thursday June 23, 1983

Ally: peach

 Heavy Rain. Ally went to work in a baggy dress. She was uncomfortable in a skirt yesterday. Pregnancy suits her. She is like a peach and eyes are brighter than ever. She came home at 12:30 and an hour later we walked to Saint Street where she sat in a waiting room full of heavily pregnant women. I stood outside with a rolled umbrella watching a feeble old man trying to park his car in a tiny gap. She came out having seen Sister Matthews, a midwife, who is as broad as she is tall, and pleasant with it. Ally was weighed. She is 8st 5lb. At home I made the dinner and watched John McEnroe shouting and screaming at Wimbledon. Ally phoned Bessie and I phoned Mum at Horton. She says Maria and the children are in Guiseley but everyone in Guiseley has sent Catherine's birthday presents to Scotland. John and Janette are going to Scotland for the weekend. Janette hasn't been back since she left in January.

Ally went to bed at 10 and I watched Sir Robin Day's programme. Norman Beresford Tebbit is a man to watch. I like him and always thinks he talks such sense about trade unions. The ghastly Gwyneth Dunwoody makes my blood boil. 

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Wednesday June 22, 1983

Club Street.

 I went and stood with Ally at her bus stop and watched her disappear down the lane. I found a corner of the garden and sat crouched like an Indian among the conifer bushes and bags of builders sand. Mrs Greenwood's door was open and so I climbed over the wall and spent ten minutes with her. She told me that Betty Heap at number 20 (Club St) is a fallen woman. I have seen a young Pakistani coming and going at odd hours and assumed he was a lodger. Betty must be at least 60. 

At 11 I switched on the telly and watched the State Opening of Parliament. No stunning measures. It is always touch and go as to whether Lord Hailsham will survive the spectacle. We were told that HM had excused him from walking backwards.The Queen looked older. The Duke of Edinburgh always has a grin on his face. I'd love to know what he's thinking. Back into the garden with cheese on toast at 12. I am instructed by Ally to get brown. She likes bronzed barmen. 

My cousin-in-law-to-be Paul Edwards is 19 today. He looks much older. 

Later, the woman from the social services who comes to visit Britt (Greenwood) at night to ensure she's tucked up knocked on our door to say she's found her on the floor ... again. We went round. Poor Mrs Greenwood was dazed  and shaken. She fell over three hours before whilst making a sandwich. We gave her a brandy and she came round. She is terrified of being taken away to hospital and pleads with the Irish nurse not to tell anyone. Her sons were phoned who say they'll visit later. We sat with Mrs G until 8:30. A thunderstorm. We told her our baby news. She confided in us that she had been a naughty girl and had to get married when she was 23 - in 1911, the year of King George V's coronation and when Asquith was PM! Those days were different. 

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Tuesday June 21, 1983

 At 10:30 I phoned Geoff Hemingway. He was chuffed about the job. I arranged to meet him at the Town Hall Tavern at 2. A postman arrived, fat and sweaty, who handed me a letter without a stamp and asked me to cough up 22p. It's from Sam Smith's telling us we are to train at the Linthorpe Hotel, Middlesbro'. Phoned Ally who was excited. Lynn phoned to ask about Winchester. She tried to assure Ally saying that once the first 12 weeks (of pregnancy) are over it's a doddle. I went to see Jacq ______. She has been going out with a shoplifter who specialises in videos. To the Town Hall Tavern for 2. Sat with Peter Lazenby, Roy Holland and Nicola Gould. Geoff followed. Sank a few pints and some whisky. Geoff, delighted about the job, asked if the baby was a mistake. Staggered back in the hot sun to the YP and found the library dull and gloomy. All were tearing up photographs in that unpleasant, thick atmosphere. Kathleen doesn't like Capricorn people and hopes that our baby is late and born after January 21. Home to Ally. Pork chops. Prince William is one today. We didn't see him. His parents are in Ottowa.

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Monday June 20, 1983

 Warm, sticky. Wash day. I went to 'sign on'. A 17 year-old with punk eye make-up tells me they won't pay me for the last week when I was on holiday because I wasn't prepared to return mid-week. I have been unemployed for 10 weeks and haven't received a penny piece. Went to Vicar Lane and got Ally the relevant maternity forms. We are told that Jean Watts is expecting a child in February. Met Ally at 12:30. She was with Patricia. We went to the building society and the bank and then to the Traveller's Rest for a drink and a beef sandwich. (We disposed of Patricia after the bank). Ally looked bonnie and sweet ____. Went to the Co-op and spent a mere £11. Home in a sweat at 2. Is Sir Harold Wilson going to receive an earldom in the prime minister's dissolution honours list? It would be typical of the old boy I must say, and I wouldn't blame him accepting. It would be one in the eye for the lefty element, eh? Earl Wilson of Huyton, KG? The Queen Mother is in Ulster inspecting the TA - it was the lead on the 6 o'clock news and rightly so. Ally was in at 5. Lasagne. She doesn't feel bright tonight and feels nauseated. The heavy Italian nosh cannot help. No TV. Ally reading aloud from her maternity allowance booklet. One needs a degree in gobbledegook. After studying the text she decided she will get a good whack and that by changing jobs she won't be done out of any cash. Mama phoned enquiring after Ally's health. She is sunburned after yesterday and is sore. Dad is painting everything in sight including Pen-y-Ghent by the sound of things. Upstairs at 9:30.

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Sunday June 19, 1983

 3rd Sunday after Trinity

Father's Day

Hot. Mum and Dad's 29th wedding anniversary. We had breakfast in the cold, dark kitchen and then went out into the heat and sat with B, who was knitting furiously. Bought a Sunday Telegraph and read about George V's so-called bigamous marriage with a Miss Culme-Seymour in Malta in 1890. Ridiculous, and of course if he'd married in 1890 then it would not have been bigamous, albeit illegal (under the terms of the Royal Marriages Act). His 1893 marriage to Mary of Teck would have been the 'bigamous' union.

Ally put on a tight, black swimsuit and looked like a seal, but a sexy one. We lay on the lawn with iced lemonade. Gloomy about going home. Frank was more civilised today and he chatted about our new life. In fact he was jovial. Andrew came home this afternoon, white, from an all night party at Ovington and after a sleep he was off out again. Bessie says he has bought a piece of jewelry costing £6. She found the empty box in the bin. Presumably it's a gift for Lorraine. Bessie debates what it might be at that price. Not the Spencer tiara. We lunched at 2. Just the four of us. Pork.

Bessie & Frank

They drove us up to Victoria for 6. Still hot. Frank and Ally went off to the loo and Bessie and I stood on a windswept corner. Her dress inflating in a Marilyn Monroe moment (The Seven Year Itch). We departed at 6:30. Bessie looked tearful. Our 'Rapide' coach was far from rapid. Home via Sheffield and Huddersfield and we staggered in at 11. We had trouble unlocking the door. A letter awaits us from Younger's brewery asking us to go for an interview on the A1 at Darrington on June 27. It feels so good that we do not have to go. Piles of bills. The house stank like a mausoleum. Bed after 12. Hot and sticky. I phoned Horton this morning. They were having a family gathering and all were there.

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Saturday June 18, 1983

Gill, Matthew & Frank

 Warm and sunny. A fried repast. Frank and Bessie were eager to leave for Coleford and we dashed around in the kitchen like a circus act. We left at 10:15 down the 'boring' M4 to Gloucestershire. Over the Severn Bridge but the view was spoiled by the mist. Into Wales and at Graham & Gill's for 12:15. Graham was away in Monmouth but he appeared after half an hour. Matthew is much gown and is a Dixon except for the Lynn eyes. He is placid and good natured. We had a good gin and then drove to Ross-on-Wye and sat outside a pleasant tavern and had a good lunch. Matthew in a blue bonnet. I had trout and snapped away photographing like Patrick Lichfield. Frank paid for everything and it came to £35 ___________. Afterwards back to Graham & Gill's where we sprawled in the sun and consumed two carafes of the Lynn white wine. The dog, Tara, is an an attractive canine and not horribly yellow like some retrievers. More white. Frank giggled with the dog like I have never seen him do before. Perhaps he should get one. It might work well on his temper. Still hot when we left at 6:30. An arduous 2 hour journey. Ally looked sick throughout and only her great presence of mind prevented her spewing. At home she went to bed and I joined her at 10. F & B were sipping brandy and watching a film.

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Friday June 17, 1983

 Moon's first quarter

Chillandham Cross, Martyr Worthy

Dull. Slept until after 9. Pantomime downstairs with Andrew and Frank playing with the motorcycle. A fiery breakfast which ended with Frank storming out at 10. They cannot manage Andrew. Ally and I escaped to Romsey for a few hours to look at the shops ... for baby gear again. In the end she bought Matthew a T-shirt in Woolworths. We didn't have a drink because our past experience of Romsey pubs isn't good. Back to Bessie for coffee at 1 and we took her to Alresford where she had her hair done at 1:30. Ally and I went into the Horse & Groom where a crowd of A-level students were having a drinking competition. Nostalgic. We too used to get arseholed too when we were teenagers. How we have survived for so long I will never know. We looked at antiques. 

Later we had a cream tea in the garden and discussed Bessie's ancestry. She is quite hopeless. Her father, Albert Braithwaite, was a newsaggent and stationer. (I have jotted some details in the back of this journal). Ally sat reading a glossy baby magazine. Twins seem to be the in thing. Joshua is back as our chief baby boy name. I am happy with it but Ally thinks it might be a bit too 'biblical'. Judas Rhodes would be worse, I think. I pottered around watering the vast garden. Later had steak pie and watched the atrocious TV. The Waleses are in Canada, the Pope in Poland, and the prime minister in Stuttgart. Mrs T becomes more statesman-like with every passing day. Ally was in bed at 9. I stayed up watching a ridiculous sex film on Channel 4. Bed at 1:30.

Willie Whitelaw was introduced to the Lords yesterday as Viscount Whitelaw, of Pentrith with remainder 'to the heirs male of his body lawfully begotten'. So he will be the first and last Viscount Whitelaw, unless of course he runs off with an 18 year-old, marries her, and begets a son. 

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Thursday June 16, 1983

 Sunny start, but dull later. Andrew is a problem. Bessie cannot manage him. By the look of things he gives her a real hard time. Ally says Bessie blames herself for having him so late in life (she was 42) which has resulted in his apparent 'slowness'. We do not thing he is slow at all. It is all pretence. He has his parents under his thumb. The only problem with having children late in life is that they take advantage. A child of mine would have been soundly battered before reaching Andrew's age and size. Alas, it is too late now.

After breakfast with Ally and Bessie to Winchester where they spend two hours buying, or rather looking at baby clothes (for Matthew) and row after row of ladies underwear. I was bored sick and in no mood for trailing around the shops. I wouldn't mind if Ally bought things, but she rarely does. She tried on a green thing in Laura Ashley and emerged from the changing room looking like the prize vegetable marrow at Otley Show. Laura Ashley it seems caters for the giant. At 1pm the three of us went to the Bush at Ovington and sat in the murky depths. Quite my favourite haunt in Hampshire. A pair of Americans were going on and on for all to hear on the subject of children from broken marriages and people with drug problems.___________. Ploughman's lunch again. I look like a bloody ploughman. 

Overcast afternoon. Back at 3 for tea and cake. Andrew phones from Bishops Sutton and has to be collected. Poor B spends her life chasing around for his benefit. Ally and I went and sat under the cherry tree and as I write this she is reading Women's Weekly magazines from 1976. 

A Tory MP has criticised the PM for reviving hereditary peerages. I will write to Downing Street giving Mrs T my support for the move. We sat in the garden until after six. Bessie went in to watch 'Crossroads' and 'Emmerdale Farm'. She is a keen follower. Frank was home before dark for once, but no Andrew. Ally, looking better, stayed up until 10:30 and went off leaving us watching Sir Robin Day's 'Question Time'. Willie Whitelaw made mincemeat of the upstart Michael Meadowcroft, a new Liberal MP. Tony Benn is not the ideal thing to go to bed on and we did so looking pained and restless. Frank stayed up to quiz Andrew on his weird activities.

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Wednesday June 15, 1983

Bournemouth.

 Ally climbed out of bed in a vile mood and banged around for the morning taking chunks out of me and poor Bessie. After breakfast I made twenty profiteroles, much to Bessie's amusement and Ally's chagrin, and by 11 they we standing in splendour oozing with whipped cream and chocolate sauce upon a wire tray. I took Ally out to stop her attacking her mother (verbally). She is so vicious at times. We went off in B's car to Winchester to collect photographs of baby Matthew. Ally then suggested Bournemouth, and off we went at about 80MPH down the by-pass. We were only half an hour away and we parked on the sea front and strolled along the crowded promenade and laughed at the flabby ladies in their beach huts drinking tea on Calor gas stoves and looking superior. We had another ploughman's at another Berni Inn and sat under an umbrella in a car park full of workmen. 

On the lawn: June 15th

Read the Daily Telegraph. Bernard Weatherill is the new Speaker of the House of Commons. The PM asked Pym to stand but he declined telling her that the office of speaker is not in the gift of the prime minister. Quite right. We went to lay on the beach next to a fat couple listening to the radio. Ally, in her blue and white stripes, resembled a deckchair. At 4 we went back to Winchester to avoid the crush of day trippers, and got back in 50 minutes. In the garden with Bessie, who had me messing with a hose pipe. We dined on steak pie.

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Tuesday June 14, 1983

 Up at 9 today. We ate mounds of toasted currant tea cakes and sat with the Daily Express in the cathedral-like kitchen. Labour is in shambles. (Michael) Foot is going in October and Neil Kinnock is leading the field. Roy Jenkins is standing down to make way for David Owen. The opposition already discussing tactics for the 1988 election. Bloody fools. 

Andrew: secretive

Andrew's motorcycle has broken down and for some peculiar reason he dare not tell his parents. He is such a queer, secretive person. Bessie cannot understand him and he seems to come and go living in a solitary world. At one time he seemed to come out of himself a bit with his sister, but now we don't see him. Occasionally we hear his Winchester accent drifting over from another room.

We went to town for a stroll around the shops and escaped from the heat into a cavern-like hostelry where we sat in basket chairs with lager. Ally has a hungry look about her and suggests lunch at the Berni (Inn) and before you can say Norman Tebbit we were bounding through the crowded streets in the direction of the restaurant. On entering Ally was immediately recognised by Doreen, the ancient waitress. We had rump steak with salad and no wine. A large satisfying lunch. At 3 we returned to the garden at Chillandham Cross. On the way to car I spotted a pastel-type print of King Edward VIII in a dark frame and had to have it. Blimey, it was only £2.30. We sprawled on the lawn. Bessie slightly peeved because she has put a chicken casserole in the oven and we are too bloated to appreciate it. I did manage to eat only a fraction of it at 8. Ally was in bed by 10:30 and Bessie and I were alone. Frank was out at a headmasters' dinner and was late.

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Monday June 13, 1983

George & Falcon

 We got up at 7:30 after listening to Frank banging around in the darkness. The man gets up and goes off to work in the middle of the night. I had the usual fried repast and Ally her egg. A warm bright morning. We took the car into Winchester and looked at maternity wear in Marks & Spencer's. Clown-like checks seem to be in. Laura Ashley was next on the agenda. All her dresses look like tents and I think of Charlotte (Smith). For refreshment we went to the George & Falcon at Warnford, where Ally dined on her 21st birthday. We were disappointed by the small, insignificant ploughman's lunch. Two fat, old ladies were served bowls of cold soup and apologised profusely to the bar staff. Shouldn't the apologies have come from the staff and not the customer? A Pekingese dog was coughing up it's dinner in the lounge bar. On to the West Meon Hut at West Meon where we sat next to a heavily pregnant woman who was sipping coffee. Ally, smiling, said it was hard to believe that she too will be in that state shortly. We returned to Winchester suitably refreshed, to buy Andrew a bulb for his motorcycle headlamp and was home for 4:30. Wrote to Sam Smith's accepting their offer and Ally slept upon the bed, fully clothed, after dictating the historic epistle. Frank was out at Rotary until after 10 and we dined with a tired Bessie on over cooked pork chops. Again, Andrew was nowhere to be seen. To bed at 10:15 after watching the news. More Cabinet changes. The Times implies that the Speaker will also be made a viscount on his retirement, but he too has no son and heir. The Times adds that future hereditary peers include Sir Keith Joseph and Lord Hailsham. However, the 1963 Peerage Act prevents Hailsham from receiving a hereditary peerage because he disclaimed his own viscountcy to return to the Commons. I am absolutely delighted that the PM has revived the hereditary system. Ally to bed with Agatha Christie.

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