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. _______.

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Tuesday November 1, 1977

I am writing this, dear reader, by candle light. Those nice electricity supply people are asking for more money than the miserable 10 per cent offered by Mr Callaghan, and because he's taking his time giving them the cash, they are in return giving us a dose of the old black-out treatment. I bet it's bringing back lovely memories for Ted Heath and his enfeebled colleagues.

Anne: Duchess of Sussex?

Susan is sat sewing by flickering candlelight; Lynn is in bed reading by torch-light to the sound of Radio Luxembourg (which, thank God, is beyond the scheming clutches of the ghastly power workers). I only hope that for the sake of children throughout the land the electricity will remain off on Nov 4 and Nov 5 so that that Mischief Night and Bonfire Night will be well remembered.

The Daily Express today carried a story riddled with errors on the subject of royal births. Mistake one was that Princess Anne was born at Buckingham Palace, when in fact her birth took place at Clarence House; mistake 2, was that the presence of the Home Secretary at the birth of a royal baby was only dispensed with at the birth of Prince Edward in 1964 - when in fact King George VI scrapped this custom in Oct 1948 just before the Prince of Wales was born. I persuaded Sarah to phone the Buckingham Palace press office to confirm this, which she did, and she was told that 'His Majesty found the whole business archaic'.

We have just been discussing (still by candlelight, at 9.20pm) the possibility of the 6th person in the line of succession (to the throne) being a 'Master Phillips' and both Mum and I don't like the idea one bit. We decided that Princess Anne should be created a duchess, so that the infant cane come into the world as a marquess or earl, but nobody in 1977 takes much notice of reactionary swines like what we are.

The lights came on as if by magic at 9.55 and the television disrupted our peerage chatter.Dad was relieved because our deliberating as to whether Princess Anne is to be Duchess of Sussex or not is of no interest to him.


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Friday November 5, 1976

A perishing cold day. Drive with Lynne to Thornton-le-Dale and at 8 o'clock we go with Mr & Mrs Mather and Karl to Scarborough in the hope of getting a glimpse of some beach bonfires & fireworks, &c. No such bloody luck. We are too late. After Donald, Vera, Lynne, Karl [for it is they] ate ice-cream whilst I supped a can of shandy we all departed to a remote mountain not far from Scarborough where Karl was let loose with his fireworks. Unimpressive things they are too. All Lynne can do is moan about the [cold] weather. I laugh at the sight of her stood wrapped in a one of the tartan car blankets. Mrs M is frozen solid too. After 10 minutes we depart for Thornton-le-D once more. Lynne complains about being tired again. My God she is only 19! Mrs M insists that Lynne is always tired because of the constant gas leak in her office. We laugh.

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