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Sunday April 15, 1979

_. Up at about 10 feeling revolting. Ate toast and drank tea, then bidding our fond farewells we piled into cars and headed for the Red Lion at Burley in Wharfedale. I could only drink Coca Cola to begin with but soon pulled through. To Lynn and Dave's afterwards where everyone [except me] slept and snored through 'The Greatest Story Ever Told'.

At home by 6:30 to find John, Maria, JPH, Hilda and Tony. Watched even more religious propaganda on TV and ate a big dinner. I am sick to death of food this Easter. Tony is hilarious. It is obvious they have had a good weekend with Mum & Dad. Poor little JPH is returning to Scotland tomorrow. Maria, beetroot-like, had burned herself under a sunray lamp.


Saturday April 14, 1979

A warm summer-like day. Was very surprised to see Mum up bright and chirpy after last night. She and Papa consumed vast quantities of whisky. At 11:30 we all went to Lynn & Dave's and then all on to the Fox & Hounds at Starbotton for drinks. Ally is still knocking back port and lemon. God knows where she puts it. It was very pleasant have 99 per cent of the family together.

We had turkey sandwiches at Burley and then went over to Pudsey at 7:30 to meet Karen, Steve, Jill and Tim. Diane was out babysitting. Tony and Hilda offered to do an exchange visit by coming over to join Mum & Dad at Pine Tops for the night, leaving number 6, St James's Crescent to the mob. We did a pub crawl of five pubs in Pudsey and then returned to St James's Cres for a party, but nothing exceptional occurred. Steve passed out in an armchair and David went deathly white and dashed off to a bed. Susan and Peter just sat on top of one another in the usual way. Karen danced, and Tim played at disc jockey. Ate cold pizza and supped gallons of wine and ale. Ally and I were drawn together once again and at 3am we were alone in the dining room listening to Harold Melvin's 'Don't Leave Me This Way'. Pepper, the dog, proved himself to be something of a nuisance, but we managed to get rid of him. Things became quite romantic ______.



Friday April 13, 1979

_. Good Friday

Day off. Alison walked in after breakfast from Burley where she arrived late last night. She looks well, and didn't mention John Pinder, and so we avoided the subject too.

A hot, sunny day. At 11:30 with Alison and Sue we went to collect Janet Simon, and then went on to Wendy Wools to pick up Sue's pay, and a pair of shoes. A strange thing to do you may think, but Alison and I did it without question and walking around Guiseley carrying a pair of size 5 women's shoes didn't seem remotely funny.

We went to the Commercial for a few drinks and roast beef sandwiches. Janet is experiencing pre-marital bother and she and the obnoxious Robert have terminated their relationship.

At 2pm [the pubs close at 2 because it is Good Friday] we went back to Otley and basked in the warmth of the Spring sunshine. Real shirt sleeve weather. Alison wanted some pottery from an obscure shop, but of course it was closed because of the season. I know I have said this before but why Oh why couldn't Christ have been crucified on a Wednesday, because it makes such a mess of what could be a perfectly wonderful Friday. Mind you, Good Wednesday doesn't have quite the right ring about it.

From Otley we collected Lynn from her place of work. Saw David Greenwood ______________. Back to Burley in W  for drinks with Lynn and Dave and afterwards we headed for the Red Lion where we spent the evening. Got pissed up and Ally and I realised we have an affinity. My flirting and footling around with Ally seemed to embarrass the others. Sue and Peter argued all night and bringing us home he collided with a roundabout and several rose bushes at the Fox and Hounds. Home in one piece.


Thursday April 12, 1979

_. Escaped from the YP at 3:30 and in Guiseley I obtained a lift home from Papa, who came to meet me.

John, Maria and JPH are home for Easter. Maria had a 'scan' yesterday ~ whatever that might mean, and the doctors say she is not expecting a multiple birth. Her due date is August 2.

Watched 'The Song of Bernadette' ~ an ancient religious epic, and then devoured a hot curry. Decided to go out with John tonight, but Maria and Sue said they wanted to come too, so that's that. Chippy will have a seizure if a woman appears in the Shoulder on the boys night out.

Out at 8:30 to the Shoulder with John, Maria, Sue and Janet Simon. Pete N is in with Chippy, Neil and Dave W, but they left minutes later ~ Pete being incredibly childish. Refusing to socialise simply because it is Thursday.

We had fish and chips at Harry Ramsden's because Maria has a fixation. She told me that the baby, if a boy, may be Charles.


Wednesday April 11, 1979

_. Warmer today, but still damp. Lynn came from her weekly shopping extravaganza at Morrison's and remained to dinner. David B came from the office seething with rage and hate after a confrontation with Messers Thompson & Spencer on the topic of his diabolical salary. I do believe he receives less than me. I find this mind-boggling. It means he is running a car, a home and a wife on something like £30 a week! I shudder at this because I find it hard to get by ~ and I have no commitments at all. My £30 is beer, whore, and bus fare money. Oh dear.

To change the subject Sarah and I are back communicating with each other. We plan to go to Lanzarote together in the autumn to stay with John & Sheila. Will this come about, or am I writing balderdash in order to fill a blank page? Wait and see, but at the moment we are deadly serious.

The election campaign dominates the news. I am saying nothing, but my mind is made up, and I don't need to be convinced by any political party and so I can ignore the whole thing until May 3.

Princess Michael of Kent has named her son Frederick. I am quite taken aback by this. It hasn't been used as a first Christian name in the Royal Family since Frederick Augustus, Duke of York [1763-1827], the _Grand Old Duke of York_ the second son of George III. Before him we had Frederick Lewis, Prince of Wales [1707-51] who is the new baby's great-great-great-great-great-great grandfather. Of course, George III was George William Frederick, and George V was George Frederick Arthut George, and George VI was Albert Frederick Arthur George. So it isn't altogether an alien name. Princess Michael's brother is Baron Frederick von Reibnitz.

Retired to bed at 1:00am.



Tuesday April 10, 1979

_.  Jim Rawnsley insists that the so-called Yorkshire Ripper is none other than the Earl of Harewood, our ugly royal opera fanatic. Jim's theory is that he [the Ripper] has to be a member of the Royal Family in the tradition of Jack the Ripper, of Victorian London, who undoubtedly was Edward, Prince of Wales. I smiled at all this as we journeyed to Leeds because Jim expounds his theory in such a charming and amusing way. Wouldn't it be marvellously embarrassing for the YP if this was so? Whilst the fiend was in the boardroom swilling gin and humming along to Wagner with Gordon Linacre, forty thousand journalists are scouring the county searching for clues. Sadly, the identikit mug shots of the supposed mad man bear no resemblance to his Lordship. Another likely candidate, according to Jim, is Brigadier Kenneth Hargreaves, the former Lord Lieutenant of this charming, picturesque county.

I am enraged and spitting blood at the bloody civil servants strike, which is affecting the payment of my national savings certificate. I need £120 in May [to pay for my holiday] and things don't look very bright at all. The pigs wouldn't be on strike at all if only this country had the proper leadership. What are we coming to, for God's sake?

I have been reading my journal from five years ago and do you know I seem to have been more intellectual and mature than I am now. Writing about Napoleon III and his social policy I was. Blimey, it's quite frightening but I've already forgotten most of my history and Napoleon III means little or nothing to me now. Is my brain rotting away?

Mum and Dad went off to see Marlene and then Mabel after tea. They say they will lend me the £120 until my national savings money arrives.

Sue is full of cold again and her nose is glowing like a furnace. Pete arrived and we watched the Academy Awards on TV.


Monday April 9, 1979

_. It poured down from dawn till dusk. Whatever became of the long, warm Spring which was forecast in the delightful EP?

Carol J paid me £10 for doing the bathroom and asked me whether I would possibly do the wall behind the door in that same, auspicious room. I leapt at the chance. It will only take me ten minutes.

Delia phoned and was most revealing. She told me she had argued with Sarah late last week at the cruel way S had sent me to Coventry for giving her that "frightful cold". She told Sarah to pull herself together and start being nice to me once again. She can be a horrid, precocious child at times. I'd love to be given the opportunity to really sort her out. In a brutal, forceful Clint Eastwood sort of way.

The general election campaign is already in full swing. A month of codswallop and blatant lies from our beloved pin-striped PM is something I can do without. Jim Callaghan really should do the honourable thing and shoot himself. It would be far better to go now than to wait until May 3 and suffer the same fate as King Charles I, Mr Hoveyda, the former Jamaican premier and poor Zulfikar Ali Bhutto, who died by hanging last week simply because he was the leader of a defeated party. Margaret Hilda [Thatcher] seems to have the right idea. She says she is ignoring the campaign for a while because she doesn't want to bore the pants off Joe Electorate. Hoe right and clever of the sainted Margaret.

To bed at 1:12am.


Sunday April 8, 1979

_. Palm Sunday

Yes, Sarah was carried screaming from the party over David's shoulder at about 6am, leaving me alone with Jacq and the debris of half consumed drinks and piles of cig ends. We ate toast and drank tea due to a coffee shortage and huddled together on a large bean bag. ____________.

I crept in at home at about 9am and devoured boiled eggs and looked at the Sundays [papers]. The Countess of Snowdon is expecting a baby in the autumn. It's her first and she's 37 years old.

At 10 I went to Carol J's flat in Horsforth to hang wallpaper in her bathroom, and did so with great skill and patience until 6:30pm. I felt quite satisfied with the job afterwards. Carol was delighted, so much so that she drove me home [still in pouring rain]. Women and vehicles are a weird combination. Watched TV and ate until 10 and found myself unable to stay awake and staggered off to bed. Completely shagged out.



Saturday April 7, 1979

_. Out to the Ostlers at lunchtime with Jacq. Saw Lynne Mather but we didn't speak. Well, it has been three years. Home in pouring rain at 5:30 to prepare myself for the party at Linda's.

To the Regent at Chapel Allerton with Lynn and Dave at 8:30. Sarah, Carol J, Marilyn, Beverley W, Sue, Pete, Chippy, Dave W, &c. Had a tremendous night with most people in party mood. Lynn didn't like the crowds but an injection of pernod did the trick.

All the Regent mob returned to the house party. From the outset Dave B was in great shape. I've worried about him for a while. He seems to have really quietened since his wedding. Sarah was on top form. We danced to Donna Summer and howled with laughter at everything. Jacq was sweet too.

Have you ever sipped pomagne from a frog-shaped shampoo bottle? I have. We also did some strange things with a rubber shower attachment from the bathroom. Lynn and Dave took Sarah home and I sat with Jacq until the first bus came at 7:30am. Pissing down with rain.


Friday April 6, 1979

_. Princess Michael of Kent gave birth to a son today. I had understood that the young Windsor would be 'Master [Christian name] Windsor, but I am wrong. The child will bear the courtesy title of 'Lord' before his name even though his father is not a peer and even though the Queen's own grandson is a 'master'. A ruling by King George V fifty years ago declared that great-grandchildren of the sovereign, in the male line, would rank as children of duke of England, or words to that effect. Lord 'Fred' Windsor is 16th in line of succession to the throne.

To Da Mario's on the Headrow at lunchtime with Sarah, Carol J and Eileen. I had no real appetite but had minestrone soup and a seafood pizza. Sarah has forgiven me now for passing on my germs. _________.

Jacq phoned and enquired about the party tomorrow. I wasn't very talkative. Too hungover. I didn't want to discuss the purchasing of cocktail sausages and tins of salmon.  I left her saying I would speak tomorrow, when I hope to be functioning better.



Thursday April 5, 1979

_. To work by omnibus ~ I missed Jim because of my birthday hangover. Did minimal work and devoured a coffee and walnut cake  from fair Aunt Delia. Cards from Sarah and Eileen saying "to our favourite pain in the neck". I like it. I would like to be remembered as a favourite pain in the neck by everyone. Anything is better than blending in with the woodwork. Felt ghastly all day. At 12:30 I met Mum & Dad, Lynn and Dave at Len's Bar for drinks and sandwiches. Saran and Eileen came over for an hour but it was a very quiet affair. Dad was especially quiet because he came straight to Leeds from a colleague's funeral. Pall bearer for Albert Shaw to party-goer with Michael Rhodes. Lynn drank Pernod. Alison was the main subject of conversation once again. Lynn can be very vicious. I'm sure she's Yorkshire Light Aircraft's answer to Henry VIII.

On to Morrison's and then on to Lawn Road for drinks. Jim and Margaret came too. At 9 I joined Peter, Chippy, Dave W and Neil Addyman at the White Cross. Drank vast amounts of Pernod and lager and then went to Oakwood. Addyman was just back from skiing in Gstaad, or somewhere. Was drunk, but an uneventful night. Smoked lots of Embassy cigarettes and didn't dance with anyone. "Come on, it's your birthday!" didn't move me one bit. Home horribly late.



Wednesday April 4, 1979

_. The party with John and Sheila continued today. Home from the YP and a few hours later they arrived once again with Valerie and Graham. Auntie Hilda arrived at 9 and Uncle Tony followed on at 11 with his Liberal agent, who was clad from head to foot in red corduroy ~ just the sort of clothes you'd expect to see a Liberal agent wearing. Oh, and why do people who meddle in local politics always wear suede shoes?

It was good to see Tony again. He looked pale and tired but this probably due to a combination of the coming election and the death of his mother. John and Tony made a good conversational combination, and Hilda was nice. It was an excellent pre-birthday party. They all sang "Happy Birthday" to me at midnight. We discussed politics. John laughed until he cried as I explained my reasons for preferring to live under the yoke of a right-wing dictatorship to a left-wing dictatorship.

Hilda made the statement that I am a "confirmed bachelor". In other words she thinks I'm a poof. I objected to this. I may currently be a single man, but dislike people pigeon-holing me. Drank until the early hours.


Tuesday April 3, 1979

_. Auntie Hilda phoned today to say Karen and Steve are going out babysitting on Saturday and so we cannot have the Grand Gadsby-Rhodes reunion this time. Thwarted again. She told Mum that cousin Derek's wife, Jennifer, is expecting her second baby in November. Karen phoned at 7:30 to say we can all have the great gathering on April 14, which is the day before Easter. I readily agree, and communicate this news to Sue. Mum and Dad with Hilda and Tony are probably going to stay with Ruby and Arthur for Easter, and so the house at Pudsey will be void of parents and eligible for an orgy. Alison is also coming for Easter, and so she'll be included in the party. Gosh, I can hardly wait.

At about 8:30 in walked John and Sheila, from Lanzarote, with Valerie and her boyfriend Graham, a law student at Nottingham Polytechnic. It was such a surprise because we haven't seen them since Christmas, 1977, and following the boycotting of Lynn's wedding, I thought we'd seen the last of them.

Uncle John is just the same self-assured, suave businessman. He never has a penny but is always on the verge of making a fortune. The gold mine is always just around the corner.  At 11pm they run Valerie and Graham to Harrogate, and then come back to stay the night with us. We discussed Lanzarote and our wayward, insane family. From Blackpool to Selby and from the Canary Isles to Stranraer we are making our mark on the world.


Monday April 2, 1979

_. Sarah is in a much better frame of mind. _____________. Queer weather we are having - snow, sunshine, rain, fog, and all in the space of half an hour. This did not deter me from pruning our roses trees this evening with my usual Percy Thrower-like gusto.

Jacq came at 7:30 to collect a dress from Motherdear and stayed until 11:30 watching a play about Martin Luther King on the TV. She seemed OK and we discussed the party next Saturday. I have said no to food, because the sausages and liver pate only gets trampled into the bedspreads and for weeks afterwards one tends to find peanuts and salmon sandwiches in inappropriate places. She agrees and decide to limit the function to just booze, and lots of it.

John phoned. They are coming down from Stranraer on April 11 because Maria is going for a scan to the Hyde Terrace Hospital. John is quite serious when he says it might be twins.

To bed at midnight with The Secret of Chimneys ~ and finish the book before slipping into a coma.



Sunday April 1, 1979

___. Passion Sunday.

Out of bed before lunchtime which is something of an achievement for me at weekends. At 11:30 Mum and Dad drove Sue, Pete and I to Burley where we met Lynn and Dave, Trevor and his wife, and went over to the Red Lion for a 'few' drinks. Lynn was of course knocking back Pernod. [Trevor is Dave's workmate with the beard who drank Crème de Menthe with ice on Dave's stag night. Do you remember?] We had a good session until 2 but I felt strangely quiet.  We adjourned to Lynn and Dave's for lunch and I demolished a couple of bottles of wine. I created a sensation by lighting a fire in the grate which seemed to amuse everyone. I was always a good fire-maker.

Trevor and his nameless wife disappeared at 5 and Mum and Dad came shortly afterwards, from Threshfield, to take us home. I had a raging, thumping, sickly headache and 'Carmen' by Bizet on BBC2 didn't help.

By 9:30 I felt ill and retired to bed where I went out like a light and only stirred slightly when Dad popped his head round the door. It's a combination of booze and booze, I think. Ah well, it's April.


Saturday March 31, 1979

_. Up at 10:30 in the smoke-filled, smelly dining room. The place resembles Winston Churchill's wartime bunker beneath Whitehall. Both Dad and David B are clad in blue boiler suits and puffing out cigar smoke like experimental beagle dogs in one of those cancer research centres.  Had a bowl of porridge.

Ian Dury's New Boots and Panties ...
Went to Leeds with Sue & Peter. They really are my constant companions these days. Leeds was overcrowded. We had a couple of drinks at the Ostlers and, for my birthday, they bought me "New Boots and Panties" the Ian Dury LP. Pete bought a new squash racket and oddments of clothing. Back at home at 3:30 the LP refused to play and made a queer noise on the turn table and it rattled and shook.  Oh dear.

Stayed at home this evening. Saw a film about General George S. Patton, the US war leader, and finally, at 11:20,  "A Night at the Opera" featuring Groucho Marx and Co. Very hilarious.

Mum and Dad are the picture of domesticity, he rug making, and she knitting away.


Friday March 30, 1979

_. The Liberals have won Edge Hill from Labour in yesterday's by-election, but this news is overshadowed by a hideous crime committed outside the Houses of Parliament  this afternoon. Airey Neave, the opposition spokesman for Northern Ireland and one of Mrs Thatcher's closest friends, was assassinated when his car was blown up in the MPs underground car park, at 3pm. He is the first MP to be murdered in the precincts of the Houses of Parliament since prime minister Spencer Perceval was shot there in 1812.

Airey Neave: like a Guy Fawkes dummy.

I was delayed at the YP because of Neave's murder and the shock really hit us all. It is a hideous, brutal crime against a good gentleman and MP. Mrs Thatcher cancelled a BBC broadcast scheduled for this evening and returned to her home broken and shattered. Will the loss of this close influential aide affect Mrs T's electioneering? We shall have to wait and see.

Ursula phoned tonight and said she had been speaking to a reporter at the scene. His description of the dead Mr Neave is almost too hideous to describe. The mans limbs had been torn off and his crumpled remains resembled a Guy Fawkes dummy.

Tonight: Out with Sue and Pete to the Shoulder. Joined by Chippy and Debbie. Went on to the White Cross. It was slightly better here. Met Naomi and Jill. Naomi told me she has bought Mick Orchard's house on Victoria Road. They are out next Thursday to celebrate my birthday.


Thursday March 29, 1979

_. I have to be very diplomatic these days. Sue & Pete's squabbling makes the Thursday nights out with the lads a delicate and highly inflammable operation. So, at the YP, I decided to give tonight a miss and instead go to see Lynn & Dave at Burley. I made all the arrangements with Lynn, who was pleased because I have ignored the Lawn Road branch of the family in recent weeks.

Chippy phoned this afternoon and went berserk when I said no to the weekly Oakwood Hall jaunt. Foul language flowed from him like lava from Vesuvius, but I was not deterred from my path of righteousness.

Dave B picked me up at 5:30pm and we first went to John Little's where he collected £25 for a drawing job. Bessie Little was her usual, delightful self.  On to Lawn Road where Lynn made a paella for us. She never eats. One day she will collapse with starvation in Yeadon.

Watched TV and bought alcohol from Beasley's. Saw a Humphrey Bogart epic on the BBC and then had a bet on tonight's parliamentary by-election. I bet that Labour will hold the seat, but Dave backed the Liberals. However, we switched off before the results came through.


Wednesday March 28, 1979

_. A revolting wet day. It's blowing a gale at the moment [12:15am 29/03/1979] .

Auntie Hilda is 43 today. Mum phoned her this morning. Mum suggested that they team up and go to Ruby and Arthur's together at Easter. H seemed to think this is a good idea.

Sarah has been a cow all day. ______________.

Susan and Peter went out for an Indian meal to celebrate their recovery from gastroenteritis. Oh God!

I have excellent news to relate here. At 10:30 tonight the government was defeated in the House of Commons on a vote of no confidence, by 311 to 310 votes. Old Callaghan will have to go to the country at last. The Queen will be asked to dissolve Parliament in the next few days and the general election campaign will begin. April 26 and May 10 are possible dates. It looks like Margaret Hilda Thatcher will be the first woman prime minister. One Labour MP missed the vote due to illness. I'd be interested to know who that was. His vote would have resulted in a tie and the Speaker would have cast the deciding vote with Her Majesty's Government. Angela Rippon was obviously beside herself with glee whilst reading the late news. It's obvious she is a 'true blue'. No government has been defeated in this way and subsequently fallen since Ramsay MacDonald's first Labour administration in 1924, and he was succeeded by Baldwin. Poor Jim Callaghan's 'Zinoviev Letter' is the failure of devolution ~ such a pathetic subject on which to risk all, don't you think?

Things will now hot up at the YP and the build up to the general election will be all good stuff. It's an exciting time. I really pity the poor people of Paraguay or Argentina, where elections of any kind are strictly taboo. They don't realise just what they are missing. ________.

Went to bed with Agatha Christie at 12:25am.


Tuesday March 27, 1979

_. Didn't sleep too well , and was awakened at 4am with something of a start. Pottered around in the kitchen and went back to bed with a blackcurrant juice and continued with Agatha Christie. Slept until Dad woke me with a start at 7:45, To Leeds with Jim and Jennie.

I am horrified by the news that the horrid Welsh Nationalists are to vote with the government in tomorrow's vote of confidence. It would be so typical of Jim [Callaghan] to hang on by the skin of his socialist teeth until death finally catches up with him in October. I cannot stand another six months of this administration. Administration? That's a laugh.

Sarah is acting in a peculiar manner. I put this down to the malevolent influence of Richard Burke - a shady character.

I have been delving into the background of Princess Michael of Kent. Her grandfather, Prince Szapary, or something, was the last Austrian ambassador to St Petersburg before the revolution of 1917, and her great-grandfather was Prince Alfred of Windisch-Graetz. So, in fact, she's of royal blood and most acceptable. [Snob - MLR].

Home in heavy rain at 5pm for dinner with Mum and Dad. Susan is out at Peter's which is unusual for a Tuesday. Horribly bored. The TV is a dead loss. Is it a surprise that so many people avoid paying the tv licence when so much Yankee trash is hurled down to us from on high? We may just as well opt out and become the most recent US state [was Alaska the 50th or 51st?]

I am resolved to save money for my family tree fund, purchasing certificates, &c. I did make a start with £10 before Christmas, but this went on presents and alcohol. For the sake of my unborn, perfect grandchildren I must provide something of a genealogical table for posterity.

Mum phoned Alison and gave the go ahead for moving to Pine Tops until she has established a pent house of her own. Won't it be fun, I ask myself? If I don't watch it I'll be marrying the poor girl before the month is out. I've always had a very soft spot for Ally and now it seems I'm going to have ample opportunity to kindle the old, abeyant flame.


Monday March 26, 1979

_. Are all the Daves in my journal causing confusion? I do try to put the initial of the surname of each Dave after his name in an entry, and so Dave Lawson is Dave L and Dave Baker is Dave B, &c. Dave Glynn is obviously Dave Y, and Dave Wainwright is Arthur Hailey. Prince Andrew = David Ben Gurion, and the late Duke of Windsor, always David to his family, is now Wally.

Uncle Tony's mother, Mrs Doris Gadsby, was cremated at Rawdon this morning. She died at Pudsey last Thursday. The poor old girl was deserted by her husband, Norman, in 1937, and nobody has heard of him since.

Alison phoned Lynn today. All is now over between her and John Pinder. She now wants to move back to Yorkshire and take a flat in the vicinity but until this is achieved then she will come and live with us. Isn't this exciting, folks? Our little Ally coming to Pine Tops. I informed Mama that I will write to Alison and invite her to stay with us because she is far too bashful to suggest this herself.

"Fear is realising you can't do it the second time, and panic is realising for the second time that you can't do it." Eh? I don't get that.

The poor, broken Shah [of Iran] would like to come and die of a broken heart here in Britain, but the revolting Socialist MPs are protesting. What possible harm can the old boy do? The harshness and cruelty of the jealous crew at Westminster is forever reaching new bounds. They would leap around with joy, urinating in their pin-striped trousers if the Ayatollah purchased Buckinghamshire or Chou En-Lai took over Mentmore Towers. Did anyone complain when Ben Lyon came to live here? Precisely. Besides, just think how our economy would be boosted by all those millions of Iranian rupees, or whatever the Iranian currency is. I doubt very much that His Imperial Majesty would want to live off our social security. It's a repeat of the Tsar Nicholas case in 1918.

Watched "Fawlty Towers" on the BBC ~ the last of the series which is very sad.

Peter came here at 8. Susan sat making a rug and he sat facing her in another chair. Normally they are joined together on a sofa, but I suppose we all tire of constant molestation after years and years of endless groping.

Bed at 12 with The Secret of Chimneys. Lay there listening to the wind howling outside.