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Tuesday March 11, 1975

It's even more noisy in the bloody office today. Kathleen had headphones on all day.

Read an interesting article in the recent News of the World re Lord Snowdon and Lady Jacqueline Rufus Isaacs. It says that Lady Jackie, the daughter of Lord Reading, was "very much in love" with Lord Snowdon, and that the affair had started in 1969 when the couple sat at the same table in a West End club. Evidently, his Lordship visited Lady Jackie's flat two or three times a week under the pretext of calling on her brother, Viscount Erleigh,and they managed to see each other frequently in 1970 without more than a handful of people knowing. When the story was grabbed by the Press in 1971 the affair had to cease. It says Lord Snowdon never visited the Reading family home again, and Princess Margaret ignores Lady Jackie when they occasionally meet at parties.

The beloved Prime Minister is 59 years old today. He celebrates at Dublin Castle where the EEC talks are going on, and never again will I say nasty things about him because he's done so much for the Queen's pay rises and the Civil List. He's a decent old sport really, and I don't suppose it's his fault that he was born with all these confused ideas about politics. Someone really should discover an antedote for socialism, because when that day comes Harold Wilson will require a sizeable injection.


Monday March 10, 1975

A filthy day. Rains non stop and to make matters worse I had to go up to the Merrion Centre with Mum's Mother's Day present and swap it for one more in keeping with her size.

The noise in the YP building is becoming much worse, and our nerves are on edge and cracking up. Sarah looked pale all day & Eileen is still under the influence of flu. A sad state of affairs indeed. Nothing in the news other than the grim details of the Lesley Whittle murder. The Prince of Wales has returned to the (HMS) Hermes for a further 6 months at sea, and the little, cherubic Prince Edward is eleven years old today. Revolting Denis Healey is to open his tatty Budget box for all to see on April 15, and Alison Dixon's dog, Frisky, passed away into the great unknown over the weekend. It's amazing what one can dig up by way of news when one tries hard enought.

Home for tea at 5.15. Mess about in the lounge for an hour or so afterwards, and decide that my hair needs washing. (You all wanted to know that). Tonight is the final episode in the 'Likely Lads' series. It will be the end of a fantastic set of programmes.


Sunday March 9, 1975

4th Sunday in Lent. Reflections: Chris was a bit grotty to begin with last night, which is quite understandable, but he pulled round later on. Christine broke the news to him yesterday lunchtime, but he realised what the intention of her calling was before the fateful words had escaped her venomous lips. How long will she last with Gary? Is my love for her a remnant of those Halcyon days and hot Indian summer nights at Benton Park Grammar School? Yes, I think it might be.

Up at 12.30 to be told by Mummy that her Mother's Day present is about 15 sizes too small. Susan and Peter are to blame, and they receive the full weight of my wrath when we assemble after lunch. Roast beef and Yorkshire pudding for lunch and see the edited version of the Royal visit to Mexico on TV afterwards.

Lynn and Dave come over he settles down to fiddle with his car on the drive. Last night I realised what a jealous person Mr Baker really is. In the seating arrangements at Wheels Lynn was placed between Dave and Chris. After chatting with Chris for a while Dave was seen to drain of all colour and become very abrupt. Things improved later, but it just goes to show how many types of people it takes to make a world.

Helen Lockyer rings up later to see if I'm going out. I say I'll ring her back later but I know what the answer will be. Yes.

Ring Chris after tea but he's still in mourning for Christine and doesn't feel like going out anywhere. Dave B and Peter stayed for tea, and we had quite a laugh really.

To the Hare and Hounds with John and Naomi. Christine comes with Gary and they're all over each other at the bar. Helen comes in at 8.30 and the two of us stand at the bar for a couple of hours. Back to her place at see the last 35 minutes of an Edward G. Robinson film. Home in her car at midnight.


Saturday March 8, 1975

Lesley Whittle is dead. This puts the toll reaped by the Black Panther up to four. Three sub-postmasters and one innocent young girl. Anyway, I'm not going to dwell on that.

Wake up at 8 and find a beautiful morning awaiting my inspection. Have a cup of tea with Helen and Jane and then have a lift home in style with Miss Jane Lockyer at the wheel. Make a steaming hot pot of tea and take it up to Mama and Papa with the miserable looking morning papers. We sit for half an hour discussing the Black Panther and criminology in general. This conversation really saved the day, because sleep, rigormortis and lock-jaw would have set in had no one made the effort to talk to me. By 10am the brightness of the morning and the pleasant thought of food fives me that 'get up and go!'feeling. Oh for the Joys of Spring! (Sickly, isn't it?)

Mum takes on the mood of an ogre before lunch because Dad renders the car inoperable with repairs when it happens to be his weekend off. The poor girl hasn't been out for weeks and it looks like being another quiet weekend for her. Tomorrow is Mother's Day, so I hope she cheers herself up a bit.

Chris, Dave and Peter M go to the Dyneley - and Lynn and the birthday boy and me go to the Hare & Hounds, where MM and Marita are therein accompanied by Chris and Dave L. MM and Marita aren't too talkative and they leave after a few minutes. Dave, Pete and Chris (Christine having finished with him this afternoon) all go to the Dyneley, and Helen, Christine Dibb, Dave B and me go straight to Wheels,a discotheque in Seacroft. The others from the Dyneley follow on and a great time in enjoyed by all. Helen Lockyer is a darling - just my type really. She's Aries too - April 8 - which makes us very compatible. Dave L got on extremeley well with Christine Dibb and the birthday boy and me attempt to get drunk. Had a few dances. Home at 2am.


Friday March 7, 1975

SPECIAL NEWS FLASH EDITION: A rumpus at the Hare & Hounds tonight when Christine said she'd finished with Chris and is now going out with a banking friend, Gary, whom I know only briefly. It all came about when good old Dave L (making a guest appearance)said he'd rarther go to Wheels tomorrow than go to Wikis tonight - Chris agreed with this and dashed over to the other end of the pub to convery these thoughts to Christine, who was now doing her upmost to pull Gary. Pandemonium ensued when Helen said: "Why can't we do both?" Being the Jet-Set, high living spenders that we are. This suggestion was received coldly and with a good deal of discontent, and Christine ended up telling David to "piss off", but in a friendly way. (Christine's the only bird I know who can insult you in a nice way). Helen and I stick to our guns and say we are going to do both venues. So, it's Christine Dibb, Helen and me to Wikis where nothing much goes on, or indeed comes off. John is with Naomi and her cousin, and Carol S is with her recent acquisition. I think she intends to generously leave all her boyfriends to the nation when she dies. I'm sure it will be the largest collection of males under one roof. Since we formed the Royal Society for the Prevention of Wastage of Drinks I've sure had my share of alcoholic refreshment.
John isn't in the car (changing the subject) and so I walked Helen back to Menston and stayed the night sleeping in a sleeping bag on her settee. Prior to this we discussed all manner of things - women's lib, monarachy, ghosts. PS - at about 8 Kathleen rang looking for Lesley Whittle's picture file. Is the poor girl a goner?



Thursday March 6, 1975

Lynn is 17 and it's pay day which is quite convenient considering. Up at 7.30 and dash off to work - no Jim Rawnsley. He's been in Eastbourne all week, so the bus is the final resort.

I go out at lunchtime in what looks like a flood to get Lynn a card. Don't intend buying a present because she always prefers money, but a box of chocolates caught my eye. In the end she got the chocolates and the money.

A letter awaits me from Twickenham. My heart pounds with the excitement of it! I know it's nearly Spring and all that, but I do feel peculiar when her name is mentioned. Love. It's like the first pangs of adolescence all over again. Marriage, six kids and a mortgage as long as my arm are the only possible results of the passionate feelings towards the gorgeous, temporary inhabitant of Twickenham - but it really is nice.

John is at college until 8. So when Mum, Dad, Lynn, Dave, Sue and Peter decide to go for a meal and I am half persuaded, but considering the financial side I change my mind. They all get in at about 1am slightly stoned, and a photographic session follows, in which I take an active part. Lynn in Mum's coat and specs, and Dave in a policeman's helmet. Quite a laugh. Bed at 2am after a glass of champagne with a bit of fizz.


Wednesday March 5, 1975

The noisy bloody workmen are making life unbearable. However, I'm not going to dwell upon it and I'll turn to the joys of Spring instead.

I despatched a letter to Christine at lunchtime, and the only conclusion that I can draw is that it must be love. Christopher Ratcliffe will have to go. I can't help smiling at the printed heading on the diary page for Christine's birthday - March 16 - PASSION SUNDAY! Rarther appropriate really. Let us hope that the day lives up to its name.

My financial situation isn't all that good on my arrival home and I decide to stay in. However, John is close at hand with his wallet and I end up propping up the juke box in the Hare & Hounds as though I do it every day (er, you do). Quite an uneventful evening really & come home with my chauffeur at kicking out time.


Tuesday March 4, 1975

Another busy day. The bloody builders are making even more noise, and we could all be deaf, daft, or blind by the end of the week - if we're lucky that is. We'll all go mad unless it quietens down. Leave at 4.30 again and I didn't start until 9 o'clock. Kathleen realises we are all working flat out.

On my arrival home Mum is slumped in an armchair. A chill or something. One of her colleages at work went down with something the other day and so I suppose the poor old thing has caught it too.

See in The Times that the Prince of Wales said in a speech yesterday that he almost married Lady Jane Wellesley last year due to pressure from the Press. He was actually brain washed into believing reports that he was having a romance with Lady Jane. Poor beggar. We must pester the Royal Family until they don't know whether they're coming or going.

I'm going to break off now to writea letter to you know who in London. Then I'm going to watch 'The Great Dictator' starring Charlie Chaplin, who was knighted this morning. Normally I hate Chaplin films, but this is a satire on the Nazi regime under Hitler - so it should be interesting. I'll let you know what went on in the next paragraph. Bye Bye.

Hello again. The film was exceptionally good actually, and never again will I say that Chaplin is a usless article. Thoroughly enjoyed the film, and Paulette Goddard can make a pass at me anytime she wants to. Whether she's dead or not is another matter. Bed at 11.30 after entertaining Naomi.


Monday March 3, 1975

Busy day at the YP. The builders, or whatever they call themselves, are smashing holes in the walls and making a nasty mess in general. The phone never stopped all day and I can't say I was sorry to get out at 5.00pm.

Walking home was a treasure indeed. The mildness and the light made me realise just how fantastic Spring really is. The daffodils are opening, and it's a relief to know that the little bit of winter we've experienced is the only winter we are going to get.

It's going to be yet another expensive week. Lynn is 17 on Thursday and Dave is 19 on Saturday, and it's Mothering Sunday the day after. Wow! A few quid will be parted from the Imperial wallet before Monday is with us omce again.

Christine will now be in London, and I feel strange about about something. I have always had a great affection for her, and I'm sure I'll pine for her when she's not knocking about with us regularly. I may even love her without knowing it. Or have I always known and refused to believe it? If she is through with Chris one never know what might arise.

Have a bath and see television all evening. Kojak, the bald headed copper is all the rage at the moment. This was followed by part God knows what of 'Churchill's People'. This was about William Wallace and Edward I, &c.

Cornish pasty for supper and come to bed at about 11 o'clock.


Sunday March 2, 1975

3rd Sunday in Lent. Very mild day. After a nice lunch of roast beef and Yorkshire pudding I nip into the garden and do a spot of pruning. The roses at the front of the house yield to my plans, but after an hour or so I retire to the lounge with an orange and a terrible thirst. Sue too is gagging for liquid refreshment, and Peter comes up with a bottle of ale for her. We've either had an excess of salt in the lunch or we have all fallen foul of a sudden attack of alcoholism. It could quite possibly be the latter.

Down to the Hare at 8 with John and Naomi. Julie Slater and Gillian come too, and I can't help laughing at the way Gillian treated Peter M last night. They were all 'lovey-Dovey' on Friday at Wikis, but she didn't even look at him last night! The poor chap is so confused. Sit with Helen all night at the same table as Carol and her latest. John comes across at about 10.15 and asks whether I want to go to Gillian's to finish off the booze left over from her brother's 21st. I say yes, but get a dirty look when Helen makes a move too. In other words, they want me, but they don't want Helen. In the end neither of us go, and we stay at the Hare until closing.

Christine rang me this afternoon inorder to give me her London address where she'll be residing until Friday. Chris tonight thought for certain that it was all over, and that Christine was too scared to tell him. After all they've not been out since last Saturday. He can't really complain after 2 months anyway. I'll write to pass on Philip's messages.

Home at 11 to see the end of a film with Dad and Lynn & Dave. The young lovers look bored lately and I hope it isn't all breaking up. They make such a good couple.