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Thursday April 26, 1979

Back to the YP. Pay day. It has been like a dream missing one full week of the general election campaign. Let us hope and pray that Mr Callagas is not re-elected next week. Labour until 1984 would just about finish us all off. We are already on a par with Mozambique, and I do suppose that the populace of the Spanish Sahara are living in opulence in comparison with the starving masses of Bradford and the industrial north. Margaret Hilda (Thatcher) will be our salvation.

I fully intended staying at home tonight but Chippy phoned at 7:30 and I gave in. I do give in very easily when pleasure is dangled like a carrot before my beady, donkey-like eyes.

Out to the Shoulder at 8:15. Micky H_____ is out too but he leaves at 9:30 to go commit adultery. This is terrible. His poor wife is expecting a baby in May. On to the White Cross and the Commercial. I wasn't in the mood for the Elma, and we all realised this was a mistake, so we moved on  to Oakwood Hall. Bought Dave W his entry in and his booze all night. Got drunk. Met Steve Hudson and my 'Oakwood girl' Sarah. Home for cheese on toast and coffee at about 2am.

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Wednesday April 25, 1979

Ate the usual breakfast washed down with oceans of splashing tea, and left at 10am without saying goodbye to Arthur or to Lady Spencer-Churchill, his wife. I have stolen a very large sun parasol from the hotel which will make a splendid present for Lynn and David. I could not possibly hand over this piece of 'hot' stolen property to dear Daddy, who is a fine, upstanding member of our local law enforcement establishment. Questions would be asked in the House and 'Panorama' would dedicate a whole thirty minute programme to the incident should it ever reached the courts. We Rhodeses are VIPs in this area, you know.

I was in charge of navigating the route homeward. Back up to Devizes and then we by-passed Oxford and joined the M1  at Northampton. Before hitting the motorway we indulged in a few drinks, but were put off somewhat by the very noisy, endless political discussions going on in the bar. Politics and alcohol should never meet and be avoided at all costs.

God only knows how Alison gets from Winchester to Leeds in only three and a half hours. We didn't reach Guiseley until just after 7pm. Bill and Garry were unimpressed by Harry Ramsden's and I was moaned at for quite some time. We went off to Lynn and Dave's at 7:30 and we watched TV and sat with them for a couple of hours. They were very impressed by the large, gaily coloured umbrella. David promises to make a stand for it to adorn the garden this summer. Lynn is always so amiable and wonderful with visitors. Both Lynn and Dave are smoking cigars on an increasing scale. Back home at 9:30 where Mum and Dad sit laughing at Billy. They left after 10:30. It is good to go away, but equally nice to be home. Everything looks so incredibly tidy.

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Tuesday April 24, 1979

At breakfast Billy remarked how incredibly thirsty he was (alluding to the locked bar) to which Arthur replied: "That's why I have given you an extra large tea pot." It was wonderful just to watch Billy's face. Arthur deserved an Oscar too.

As usual Neil and the silent twosome cleared off while I was still attacking the toast, but we didn't mind in the least. Miserable sods.

At 9:30 we went by car on another jaunt across the southern countryside. Lymington Spa, or is it just plain Lymington? Anyway, we found ourselves at Beaulieu and after a few drinks (12-2pm) we went to the National Motor Museum and then visited Palace House where Lord Montagu hangs out. The old cars were fascinating but I didn't rate the house. Not a patch on Castle Howard.

Lord Montagu of Beaulieu was charged with indecency back in the 1950s. But I believe he is now a reformed peer, and has put groping around in public lavatories behind him.

Back to Bournemouth for fish and chips and then out for more drinks. Tonight our bedroom drinks party became quite riotous. Garry demolished Billy's bed and destroyed a couple of towel rails. We had to swap the furniture from room 17 upstairs, and at one point Garry thought he was Terry Wogan, the Irish lunatic.

-=-

Monday April 23, 1979

St George's Day

To Poole in Dorset this morning to explore the town. Fell into a few bars. Things just were not the same without Alison's company and we talked about her all the time. I really should begin a Miss Dixon fan club. Ate salmon sandwiches and drank a few pints of Stella Artois. This Philippe Junot-like lifestyle cannot go on forever. How long will the cash last out?

Back in Bournemouth this evening we went for a curry, which was like fire. I only had a prawn madras but I felt like I was being cremated from the inside. We took booze with us back to the Gainsborough because the so-called licensed bar remains under lock and key. Billy says he is going to see Arthur about this tomorrow.

Garry is a lonely lad, and I can see where he is going wrong. He wants the companionship of a lady (who doesn't?) but he never goes to the right places to find one. _______________.

-=-

Sunday March 25, 1984

 Moorhouse Inn British Summer Time begins 3rd Sunday in Lent Bacon sandwiches and the Sunday Telegraph. Fuss about the Queen's visit to ...