Pouring rain all day again. It's been like this now for three bloody weeks. All I can say is that I hope Denis Howell, MP, picks up this new VD germ from his mistress. Minister for Drought indeed!
Meet Judith R outside the YP at one o'clock. Make a mad, frantic dash under umberellas to the Central [Station] where we sit until 2 o'clock with her doing most of the talking. I like listening to Judith. She tells me just how tactful she was on Tuesday not mentioning today's meeting in the presence of Lynne. I agree. She then tells me I'm going to be her next blackmail victim. I disagree.
Home at 5.15 in pouring rain. Rain, rain and rain. Oh, when will it all end?
Newsworthy things: Dame Edith Evans, the actress of 'Lady Bracknell' fame, is dead. Nothing else at all, so far. [It is only 6.43pm so anything could happen between now and midnight - MLR]. Oh yes, Winnie the Pooh is 50 years old today. Good old Pooh Bear. Royal items: King James II is 343 years old today and Jane Seymour, third wife of Henry VIII, bit the dust on this day in 1537. Miscellaneous anniversaries: Nora Rhodes passed her driving test on this day in 1974.
Meanwhile: 12.23am. To say it's pouring down would be something of an under-estimation. Pissing is the more proper adjective. Goodnight.
Leave the YP at 12 and go straight to Burley-in-Wharfedale to see Lynne. Jean is with her for ten minutes or so until she is recalled to the slave labour camp. Have a couple of drinks together. She talks about Christian names and children. She'd like more than one, and I add that one might as well have four or five. More the bloody merrier. I walk her back to Fibre Distributors at 2pm and then catch a bus to Guiseley. Home for 2.30 and spend a couple of hours painting the ruddy staircase again. Cheesed off with the whole bloody lot now. Don't eat until 7 o'clock so by the time I'm served up with the nourishing substance I'm on the verge of starvation.
What's in the news?
Richard Dunn, the Bradford boxer lost at Wembley last night to the Archbishop of Canterbury after only two and a half minutes. Dr Coggan now takes the British and Commonwealth title for the second time.
George Formby is to be canonised.
Ian Smith, the Rhodesian tycoon, is having an affair with Princess Grace of Monaco.
Michael Rhodes is to be certified.
Sir Harold Wilson and Lady Falkender have decided not to get engaged after all.
Lady Doune Ogilvy, Angus's niece, is set to mary Hereward the Wake's grandson. Hereward the Wake, as it happens, was the last [Anglo-Saxon] rebel to stand up against William the Conqueror.
Lynne comes at 7.30pm and Tony arrives at 8. The three of us nip down to the Hare where we meet Helen and Graham - something of an anti-climax. Nice seeing them, but what is there to say after 6 months? CB is in fighting form. See Judith and Kathryn and mention the party to them. Will they come? I'll quiz Judith on Thursday.
Believe it or not, I still think constantly of Carole. It's every time I see Lynne that somehow I begin to compare the two. Don't ask me why. She haunts me more and more. It's not so bad when I actually see her. She means nothing to me then. God. I am possessed. Imagining the whole damned lot probably. Lynne deserves the GCVO for sticking me for so long. I shall have to write to Audrey Callaghan [throb, throb] and persuade her to mention it to Jim.
Leave Thornton-le-Dale at 7.30am. Leeds at 9.20. Not bad going, eh? Work was yak. Home to paint the banisters in the hallway and watch a farce of a film on TV. Nothing of excitement to report at all.
Baby John Philip Hugh paid his first visit to Pine Tops yesterday and made a great impression. John & Maria came for lunch I think.
Bed at 11.30 - midnight. Sorry about being so boring. I'm in no mood to elaborate.
A sunny day. Not umberella weather at all. After breakast, at midday, Lynne and I go to Scarborough with Rebel [the dog], leaving Peter at home messing about with a window frame and Mr Rat glancing at the Radio Times. Spend a couple of hours eating crab and candy [floss] and drinking coca cola and walking the dog. He's a crafty old devil and only limps when he can put it to his advantage. The sun is out in force. Scarborough is much better at this time of the year. No dirty peasants playing ball games all over the beach, &c.
Home to Ty-Onnen at 4.30 to tea and cakes with Mr & Mrs M, Peter, Karl and Mr Rat. Watch TV until the evening meal at 6.30. The gentlemen depart for Horsforth at 7 o'clock and after 'Fawlty Towers' Lynne and I go back to the Royal Oak [I think] in Pickering. Feel bloated all night and take great discomfort in the consumption of cold lager. Donald M and his good lady wife are so matey.
Lynne lands at Yeadon Airport at 3.30pm. Donald & Vera Mather and Karl came 10 minutes before the plane landed and Brigadier Kenneth Hargreaves, Lord Lieutenant for West Yorkshire, represented the Queen. The massed bands of Princess Patricia's Own Light Infantry serenaded Lynne's arrival with the lament 'The Flowers of the Forest'.
To Thornton-le-Dale. Peter and Chris were already at Ty-Onnen on our arrival and we all settle down to a meal at 7 o'clock. Tia Maria flowed like water. [Tia Maria is water, isn't it? - Editor].
Romantic night in Pickering with Lynne, Peter and Mr Rat. Pickering is hardly the Soho of the north, but we had a good laugh all the same. Peter is so narrow mined though. [That's beside the point, Michael. Let's not get rude about the brother of the lady you happen to love]. Back at 11 o'clock to watch Phyllis Diller on TV, then Michael Parkinson and Wilfred Hyde White and the late Vincent Price. Also saw a Googie Withers epic until 2am by which time Lynne had fallen into a coma and only Mr Mather and Mr Rat survived. Sad eh?
To Oakwood Hall with Tony, Stuart and Simon. The first hour is somewhat boring and I feel a bit 'left out' if you know what I mean, the three others being employees of W.H.Smith & Sons Ltd. However, Naomi [Downing] makes a grand entrance with Lynne [the Comtesse de Oval] and a few other whores. Naomi is a nice girl. In fact we danced all night. Stuart seemed to be enjoying himself with the comtesse, and 18 year-old Simon was seduced by a 24 year-old unmarried mum with a four year-old daughter, Vanessa. Tony was the only one who kept saying he felt miserable. Drink quite a lot of lager and some unspecified quantity of gin. Not too pissed though. Mucky Stuart and Mucky Simon leave with Lynne de Oval and the unmarried mum, and so Tony and I are left to fend for ourselves. Discarding Naomi at 2am the two of us return to Pine Tops for coffee. He says he's not sure he's doing the right thing giving Smith's retail the push. "Twelve years is a lot to throw away" he kept saying. ________________.
Painting everything in sight until 8.30pm or so. CB rings at 6 o'clock to see if I'm going out on the town. I say no. Not like me at all, is it?
See Frankie Howerd on TV and then have a few drinks with Mum & Dad who come back from the Commercial saying Carol has suddenly returned to the USA without warning. What can have happened between her and Raymond? We did try to warn them about holidaying in Wales. ___________________________________.
Retire to bed....
after supping my lager..... tits...... hanging about in all direction.....shagged ......Precisely, he said, with the end of his fist thrust firmly.....
HRH The Duke of Kent is 41 on Saturday!
Good Old Duke. Edward Nicholas Paul Patrick David George William Bill Ernest Frederick..... or something like that.
Good Old Uncle Harry's birthday [54th]. Take my umberella with me to Leeds this morning and, quite naturally, this particular region of the British Isles sees temperatures in the mid-nineties. Not a drop of rain to be felt within 48 million miles of my soddin' umberella.
See in the late editions of the EP that Margaret Hilda Thatcher attended the memorial service for the late Sir Edward Heath, thus ending months of speculation that at the time of the former PM's death the pair were not on the best of terms. Margaret Hilda really should have Sir Edward stuffed, mounted and placed on castors so that she can wheel the old gent onto the platform at the party conference each year. Votes would pour in.
Take the bear round to John's at 6 o'clock with Mum. See JPH and actually hold him in my arms. He's absolutely gorgeous. Mum cannot take her eyes off him. He was more interested in sucking his clothes and even thought Mum's ear was a source of nourishment. Maria looked a little pale. Didn't see much of John. Molly was full of cold, and so was Jim. Home at 7 o'clock for dinner and then it's decorating the hall and landing until 11.45pm. Believe it or not, I quite enjoy daubing paint on doors, walls and banisters, &c. So rewarding to stand back when it's all completed knowing you are responsible for the whole bloody lot.
Karen Gadsby, 17. MM, 21. Another filthy, wet day. Get soaked at lunchtime in Leeds buying a Teddy Bear for John Philip Hugh at Schofield's. It's only three days since I purchased a bloody umberella [£3.80]. But did I have it with me?
Home at 5.15. Spill a cup of white-hot coffee over myself after a delectable evening meal and all they can worry about is whether I've stained the settee or not. As it happens, it was unmarked by the volcanic deluge.
With Tony, Stuart, Andrew and Simon [I think he's Simon anyway] to the Odeon in Leeds to see 'The Omen' with Gregory Peck and Lee Remick. Very good. A clever ending to it too. Go see it if you get the chance. [No doubt you've all watched it on TV recently and said unto one another: 'What a load of crap, indeed'.]
Home at 11. Mum and Dad, Lynn and Dave have been to see John, Maria & Co at Ridgeway. Maria came out of hospital today.
The Conservative party's annual tea party has begun at Brighton. Margaret Hilda Thatcher is threatening to dance in the streets if she's elected to the premiership at the next general election fiasco. Oh God.
Out of bed at 7.20 but work is the last thing I want to get roped into today. Decide to have a day off. Besides, the staircase needs rubbing down for the new paintwork. Have a leisurely bath after phoning the office to let them know.
Give Tony a ring at 11.15 to cancel tonight's engagements and he relates to me a sad tale indeed. His relationship with Mrs Johnson is no more. Evidently, she paid him a visit last night and he told her once again that he doesn't want a serious relationship with anyone at this period in time and the poor girl disappeared in a tearful rage in the early hours in the direction of Horsforth.
Dad and I go to Morrison's at 3 and purchase paint for the hallway, &c. Spend the evening decorating. Only manage to undercoat four or five doors but things are looking much better. Retire at midnight feeling knackered and completely shagged out.
I first met Lynne two years ago tomorrow, Oct 5, 1974. Historic occasion indeed. We shall celebrate on Saturday night.