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Monday November 6, 1978

Miserable day at the YP. Sarah not in a happy mood. I sat admiring a new batch of photographs of Princess Michael of Kent. A classic beauty, stylish, &c. Sarah came out with a tirade of abuse directed at the images of HRH and said she looks 'plain'. Plain?

Delia phoned wanting to know Princess Marina's date of death. I told her (August, 1968). She didn't ask to speak to her daughter, which was just as well.

On the home front all is calm. Susan and Mum spent the night knitting with gusto. In fact it looked just like the war effort all over again. Peter didn't come up tonight because Margaret & Jim have taken his car and gone to see Lynn and Dave, and Pete always refuses to scale the heights of Hawksworth Lane on foot. (Even Sherpa Tenzing Norgay did it by car).

I had piles of sandwiches heavily coated in Mama's own pickle. Stupendous.

Jacq phoned to say Derek is taking us out to dinner on Saturday night at his golf club and so could I possibly pack something other than jeans. That rubbed me up the wrong way. When do I ever go anywhere taking only jeans?


Sunday November 5, 1978

24th after Trinity

8th Sunday before Christmas

Hullo Guy Fawkes, wherever you are. Up at 10:30 for gallons of toast and piles of hot, buttered tea (sic). A sunny, bright, autumn day. Jacq and I stayed at Lawn Road throughout and had a pleasant time with Lynn & Dave.

Lynn dragged us round Burley for half an hour before giving us a massive luncheon. My job for the entire day was to stoke the fire and keep it blazing. Either Lynn's made a close friend of Arthur Scargill or they've found a rich coal seem beneath the house.

Watched a Fred Astaire film which included scenes from the 1947 Royal wedding at the end. Sarah Churchill, Winston's daughter, had a part in the film too. She certainly resembles old Clem. It was all quite nauseating.

Jacq and Lynn seem to have hit it off marvellously. Jacq sees a good deal of me in Lynn and vice versa.

Later we watched Lillie Langtry ~ no comment. Home in fog at 10 o'clock.

Mum and Dad had just returned from Auntie Mabel's. Mama looked really nice in a new green dress with the handbag and shoes bought for the wedding. She was laughing over the Sunday Express article about the Prince of Wales escorting Princess NORA of Liechtenstein.


Saturday November 4, 1978

Sun rises 06:59 Sun sets 16:29

Up at 9:30 and after breakfast went to Lawn Road with Mum & Dad. Lynn was at the hairdressers and Dave, Dad and I made some structural alterations to the residence whilst Mama got a blazing fire going. Dad and Dave did some work putting the kitchen door into position and I painted everything in sight.

Lynn came in like a Goddess at 12 and immediately dragged Mum off into Burley. They staggered back a couple of hours later quite sozzled. They informed us that they'd met a man called Gordon, suffering from Parkinson's Disease, who would be dropping in on us later with a selection of bottles of his home~brewed cider. A likely story.

Jacq came at 2:30 and we had a good lunch. I'm surprised the ladies managed to cook it. Javq was wearing a new pink creation.

At 4 Mum and Dad left and we sat listening to music. Lynn was pissed and really in her element. At 6:30 we, the four of us, got a bus to Guiseley with every intention of attending John Little's bonfire at Green Bottom School, but on arriving we were told the entry fee was £1.75 per family. Lynn told the bemused man on the desk that we are not actually a family, but that we do all love one another.

We walked through the Bonfire night smoke and smog, and baked potato fumes to the White Swan at Yeadon. Lynn and Dave had come out without any cash and felt guilty about being parasites on their elder brother and benefactor. We had a few drinks and inspected the bonfire there. What has become of Bonfire Night? Am I getting old so that I don't see or observe the things that children delight in any more? I hope not. The days of the one penny (old money) banger are gone forever.

At 10 we went for a bus back to Burley and waiting at the bus stop for an hour. It was like a scene from a Greek tragedy and to be honest it made the whole evening. Lynn carrying on like Sarah Bernhardt. We laughed and joked ridiculously to the extent that the traffic was swerving to avoid us. Elderly ladies were peeping at us from bedroom windows.

A bus came at 11 and we headed back to Burley. Bit of an anti-climax really. Sandwiches, coffee and a 1943 John Mills film isn't exactly what I call a proper Saturday night. I suppose it cannot be a riot every week.

Lynn and Dave went off to bed before John Mills, in his submarine, had the time to sink the Brandenberg, and I fell asleep. Jacq and I 'kipped' on the sitting room floor with our heads pointing towards the dying fire embers. _______.