All the makings of a good night but not as pleasant as the one I expected. After a day in Schofield's with Lynne we came back to Pine Tops for tea and then prepared for the evening's extravaganza. Down to the Hare at 8.30 with Sue, Peter N, John & Maria, Lynn, Dave, Richard & Mandy [Baker] &c. Chris Baker and his lady friend [Julie Harris] come in at 9 o'clock and we form a tight little community around the juke box. Lynne is sitting in the corner far from being a bundle of joy. An old lady before her time, I fear.
Oakwood Hall is thoroughly disastrous. Packed. Like a tin of sardines combined with the Black Hole of Calcutta and the Bethnal Green Underground accident of 1943. Really horrific. Tony is in with Stuart and Martyn but they disappear at some unearthly hour. Lynne doesn't like to see me dancing with my sister-in-law which is daft of her. I'm hardly likely to commit incest in the middle of a Bees Gees number before an uninvited audience of 500,000 people. But try telling that to Lynne Mather.
Better give Miss Phillips a mention on this, her birthday. Hello Carole.
Jive Talkin' The Bees Gees
A big piss-up tonight. Go with Lynne to the Leisure Centre [Horsforth] at 8.30 and stand with Sarah whilst Peter [Baker] plays squash down below. Quite a mob congregates herein. Mrs Johnson, Marilyn & Beverley Wheeler, Alan, an anti-monarchist with an effeminate mouth called David, who gets into the affections of Mrs J.
We all go off to Salvo's in Headingley for a pizzas, &c. Everyone is pissed and we make one hell of a racket in the restaurant which isn't on at all really, is it? Sarah becomes quite moronic and insensible. I scream like a mad thing at the effeminately mouthed David about the role of the Sovereign in current affairs. He says she's powerless, and I say 'but Ah yes, by her presence she prevents others from obtaining great power.' In between mouthfuls of pizza I find time to throw chunks of Walter Bagehot at him [i.e. that the monarchy is a 'mellowing influence on a dark and restless age'].
At one o'clock Lynne and I go back to Carol and Marilyn's flat. After an incident with the car door we arrive to find Marilyn with eight men in her sitting room holding court like Marie Antoinette. Mrs J is tucked up in bed with the anti-monarchist, effeminately-mouthed David. We leave after a glass of home-made cider and I receive abuse from Lynne about dragging her off to such a den of iniquity. Tut Tut Michael.
I feel a great sense of boredom hanging over me. No, not boredom, but something similar. Although I haven't seen Lynne since Monday [and then it was only for ten minutes] I have not missed her one bit. In fact, sometimes she annoys me intensely. Whys is this? Am I being unreasonable? When will I know I've met the right lady? Can I feel love, or am I to be denied it forever? _____________. Is Lynne going to have to go? Am I a swine? Oh God! I'm such a mixed up sod. It's as though millions of my brain cells have refused point blank to develop along with the others, so that whilst in many ways I am fully mature when it comes to Lynne Mather I might as well be a Louis XVI commode. The only thing I can do is carry on as usual and see what develops.
Mum and Dad go see John and Maria at 8pm and I'm at home alone until 9pm. Play records at full volume thinking of who to ring with the hope of nipping out for a drink or two. No developments in this field. Mum comes home with a bottle of wine and crate of Guinness. Dad is on duty at 10 and so Mum and I sit and chat until nearly midnight. Bed at 12 with 'Edward VIII'.
News: I have bought a denim jacket with a hood. Mum's reaction was: "Are men supposed to wear things like that?" It doesn't deter me though. Other news: Miss Heckmondwike is the new Miss World.
No real desire to get out of bed today. Reading the Daily Mail over breakfast I see that the renovations of Sandringham House are complete. Also see that Her Majesty is in need of more staff. Should I apply to join the Royal Household? More exciting than the Yorkshire Post library I am sure. I've a good mind to drop Sir Martin Charteris a line.
|Lord Irwin and Mrs Camilla Parker Bowles|
Work wasn't up to much at all really. Bogged down and don't get chance to ring Lynne. She didn't ring me either. Why should I worry?
News: The chairman of the Central Electricity Generating Board will not be asked to stay on when his term off office ends in June; Lord Irwin married Camilla Parker-Bowles today; Anthony Ronald Brotherwood Esq is paying a visit on his friend Stuart Walker Esq at his abode above WH Smith's in Ilkey, and later they're going out for liquid refreshment.
Not much is it really? What can you expect from a revoltingly bored 'middle-class' lay-about? Oh, I'm pissed off! Don't think I'm kidding about flitting to Sandringham either. This could be the start of the great big invisible career I've been searching for. Sir Michael Lawrence Rhodes, GCB, KCVO, &c, Private Secretary to Her Majesty the Queen C/O Buckingham Palace, London SW1.
On the subject of shooting up the social scale, have you heard the one about Uncle Tony? Yes, Mr Gadsby is standing for the council [Liberal].
Read 'Edward VIII' by Lady Donaldson all night. I never fail to be angered and very moved by the Abdication Crisis. The king really should have married Wallis Simpson. Whether she should have been Queen or not is another matter.
Yet another mundane sort of day. Go to lunch at 12 o'clock and muck around in town attempting to espy a velvet jacket but fail to do so. I'd like one before the Christmas season gets under way.
Pictures have arrived in the library of this so-called Luxembourg princess. [She's] not particularly attractive and I find the whole topic of her possible marriage to the Prince of Wales a nauseating one. A Roman Catholic! Dr Cobweb [the Archbishop of Canterbury] would throw a fit. He wouldn't be happier either even if she renounced her Roman Catholic faith. Besides, I'm sure that HRH is about as much attached to Princess Marie-Astrid as I am to _____________.
Intended spending a night at home with 'Edward VIII'. Lynne rings at 5.30. She's staying here over the weekend for a change and we are not going out until Friday at her suggestion. That's fine with me if she fancies playing it cool. Ring Tony at 7. I accompany him over to John Cameron's at 8. Take John to the YP and then have a coffee with Jill, after wading through piles of dog shit. All the same, Jill is quite nice.
At 10 o'clock we get to the Hare & Hounds. Carole is down at the far end with [Peter] Fogarty and Denise. They don't acknowledge us. We don't acknowledge them. Home at 10.45 and up to bed.
Not an unpleasant day at the YP but nothing of particular interest to say. The Sunday Mirror yesterday says that the Prince of Wales is going to marry Princess Marie-Astrid of Luxembourg, daughter of the Grand Duke. Oh yes? The Queen paid a state visit to Luxembourg last week. And I suppose the state visit of President Giscard d'Estaing in June was to fix up Prince Andrew with Mlle. Giscard? And how about the state visit to the USA in July? No doubt Julie Nixon Eisenhower and Prince Michael of Kent are secretly betrothed. The Queen Mother was in France last week. Does President De Gaulle have a bachelor brother?
Lynne rings at 5.35pm and I invite her to come up to Pine Tops after her Spanish lessons are over. Later, a historic occasion indeed. The Royal Variety Performance LIVE on the BBC for the first time. The Queen Mother was there - she must have found time to snatch herself away from the attentions of King Olav of Norway. It was a boring performance only made bearable by Mike Yarwood, fish and chips, and a couple of bottles of ale. Otherwise it was a flop. The poor Queen Mother looked older.
Bed at 11.30 with Frances Donaldson's 'Edward VIII'.
Wake up at noon feeling quite refreshed really. No ill effects at all. However, Mum and Dad cannot make a similar boast. They were at the Grunwell's residence at Castleford from 9 o'clock last night until 6.35am. Mum is in bed clutching her head.
The Prince of Wales is 28 today and of course it's the Cenotaph Day and the third wedding anniversary of Princess Anne and her 'impotent stable boy'.