The Winterfood Diaries

The Winterfood Diaries

Monday, 2 September 1985

Liquid Capers

Listening to Kate Bush.

Freddie brought me a coffee in bed this morning. I spilt it all over myself.

Went to BMW’s at 9.30am. She made me a coffee. I spilt it down my leg.

At home, I burnt some rubbish in the yard and made tea. Spilt tea down my leg.


It was nice to go to North Brink and see BMW again, although we had to ‘babysit’ her baby sister (another of her mother’s ploys to prevent us ‘canoodling’). We had fun, though, and I think BMW was impressed that I kept the baby well entertained. Joe was nice to me, in his ancient, Irish way.

Tonight, I went to Jock’s pub for a quick booze with Mum and Freddie.

Watched V (new series) on TV when I got back in.


This time 7 years ago:
‘Watched Doctor Who: The Ribos Operation (Part One) at my Aunty Ange’s house…

…sitting upstairs in her back bedroom and watching it on the portable.’

[I don’t know why I watched this at my Aunty Ange’s. Mum, Jack and I were living at my Aunty Vi’s in Pontefract, so I assume everybody was busy and I’d been farmed out to Ange’s for the day.

I saw Doctor Who a lot less during this period. This was a combination of not being able to watch it and finding myself less thrilled than I used to be whenever I actually could…

Still, this was a mostly unhappy period for me. Living with three other children in an undecorated house wasn’t fun. Aside from the obvious competition for physical and emotional resources, our Jeff was often violent to me – amongst other things – and the change of schools (where I met Birdy) and not seeing ‘Daddy’ (Paul) any more made me very miserable. I’m pretty sure, looking back, that I was depressed.

Two very different events made my life bright amid the darkness. Firstly, my Gran and Granddad Winterfood got back in touch and took me out places. They also re-acquainted me with my real Dad (on a day out to Flamborough Head) and (his sister, my fifteen-year-old aunt) Louise (who I soon began to love like my own big sister). The last time I’d seen my Dad was when I was about three, saying goodbye to him in Pontefract bus station. My Mum carried me away and I remember watching his face recede into the distance, merging and blending into the crowd. That image never left me. From hereon, he would become a huge influence on my aesthetic tastes. I also got to know his wife Annie, who was and always has been nothing less than lovely to me.
Secondly, our 14-year-old babysitter, Cheryl Pickering, seduced me (and our Jeff and Martin) and had sex with me. I was aged eight, but I loved every minute of it. And I would love every minute of it over the many months ahead – Ritcherd, 1990]

[Text Copyright: Elton Townend Jones/Dyad Productions, 2010 / Images subject to control of Copyright Holder / While based on true life events and designed as a study of parochial British cultural and emotional life in the 1980s, this blog is a work of fiction. Cultural icons excluded, all characters and incidents featured are entirely fictional / This blog is also non-profit and all video clips are used for illustrative purposes / No copyright infringement is intended.]

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