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Tuesday February 13, 1979

_. I am sniffling and glowing this evening undoubtedly struck down by a heavy cold. Dad says it is only to be expected the way I go around only half-dressed in the middle of winter. This is rubbish. Three hundred people at the YP are all sneezing and germ spreading and so it would be something of a miracle for me to escape.

Rubbish is piling up in the streets thanks to the striking refuse collectors. This filth could give us all the bubonic plague, or 'Black Death', and this would put my piffling, unassuming chill into perspective, wouldn't it?

[I do apologise that my handwriting is different because I am writing this in bed. ] I have laid hands on one of Mummy's books. It's by Jean Plaidy and entitled 'The Goddess of the Green Room' based on the life of Dorothea Jordan, mistress of King William IV. I don't usually read this slushy fiction, but after glancing at it I find it quite interesting. If anyone found me with it I'd go crimson. Surely, to read anything is better than not taking up a book at all?

Saw a bit of TV tonight and played cards with Susan and Peter. I just cannot stop sneezing.

The Queen is still in Kuwait and spent the day visiting oil fields. What else is there to look at?  We are told that the Prince of Wales is to spend a day at No 10, Downing Street and sit in a Cabinet meeting. This too is making history. The Queen is making sure that her successor will have some intimate political knowledge, and that an 'Edward VII' situation will never be repeated.

Heard on the late news that Reginald Maudling, the former Tory Cabinet minister, is on his last legs. His kidneys have given way.

To bed with Dorothea Jordan at 11pm.


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