Monday February 12, 1973

The filthiest day of the year. Awoke at 7.50 leaving for school on the 8.33 bus. I had to walk down the lane which is open to God's elements. I arrived at the bus stop having experienced them all. I was soaked to the very skin. Arrived at school at 8.55. We received another lecture from Groves concerning the legitimate case of IOUs in the common-room servery. Evidently, Irene is tightening up following her coup d'etat last week. June arrived at 9.35 and we discussed yesterdays events. What had happened to Ivy missing from the Emmotts last night? June suspects she is dead. The weather was a contrast of rain, snow, sun, hail, frost, and driving wind - my optimistic view of a possible mild winter may be proved to be quite wrong after all. June has changed since Friday. She's much more serious and the way she looks at me is different. Her eyes devour me altogether. I feel so inadequate and immature. But I have a lot to be happy for.
Princess Anne is now reported to be aboard a battleship on the Black Sea, the guest of a fat, bombastic Commie! God, what will Heath do next to get on the right side of the Reds? He'll be packing the poor Queen off to Moscow next! The poor princess is having to converse with one of the pigs who killed in cold blood the Tsar in 1917, and his innocent wife and children, who were the cousins of our very own Mountbatten family - the Tsarina being a great-aunt of the Duke of Edinburgh. Just because President Nixon of the USA and the so called ex-earl Sir Alec Douglas-Home, MP, can go off making amiable noises in Peking I see no earthly reason why an innocent young princess should be placed up the creek with a fat commie saying nice things to HRH when everyone knows he doesn't mean it! Obviously, our dear Press are full of things about improvements in Anglo-Russian affairs - how positively naive!
June and I walked just the two of us down to the bus stop again. All we seem to do is walk backwards and forwards to ruddy bus stops - and they always come when you least want them to (the buses).
A quiet evening at home. John and I listening to the Diana Ross LP. Retired at 10.45 to bed. Mum and Dad are finally going out with the Smiths on Thursday. Also on Thursday Susan is throwing a rave-up for some of her contemporaries - it is usually my night out, but in the name of romance I would rather go out on Wednesday (Valentine's Day). I will ask June tomorrow.

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