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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.