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.

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Friday September 16, 1977

Mixed with the posh people this evening at Harewood House. Sarah and I went straight to Horsforth from the YP and at 6.30 we went with Mrs Cinzano to Harewood where we met Delia. She is in a temper and informs us that his miserable lordship will not be attending the function due to the death of Maria Callas, a connection which I fail to see. Blimey, I went in to the office on August 17 even though Elvis Presley had passed on.

Countess of Harewood.

For a start we got on the wrong side of the Countess of Harewood. Whilst she was showing Brigadier Hargreaves the music room, Delia and a band of renegades including Sarah and I, raided the dining room and made a start on the wondrous chicken buffet. Lady H entered the room ten minutes after us expecting to be served first and almost fell over us in the doorway. Delia and Brian Halliday had even flopped down on the Chippendale sofa and were joking about Carol J ____________. Lady Harewood gave us dirty looks for the remainder of the evening but we didn't care. We laughed and I dared Delia to approach Her Ladyship and call her 'Marion', who was of course George's first spouse. Lady H is a snobby, ridiculously coiffured Aussie who was previously married to a Schmidt, and posed for Australian TV commercials in the 1940s, I believe. She made a very bad impression altogether and only spoke to the Hargreaves contingent and his feeble Lane Fox of a wife, who looked positively sick.

The food was good and we put away gallons of white wine. Delia and I wandered out in search of the conveniences and we ended up having hysterics over the Epstein statue of Adam - truly grotesque. My God, the things Delia was doing with his penis, and a stone one too, were mind boggling.

We left for a pub at Wetherby at 9.30 as the Harewood butler stood at the entrance of the house yelling for 'Mrs Collis'. The summons from the countess had come too bloody late. "If she'd wanted to speak to me she could have do so hours ago", screeched Delia.

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Monday September, 5, 1977

 A most interesting day all in all. Lynn was nasty this morning about me going to the barbecue on Saturday. It made me angry because never have I felt so right about an action in my whole life. ___________.

At tea time Susan made a massive meal for the family expecting the arrival of Mum, Dad and Uncle Harry - but they didn't arrive, and the food intended for them was devoured by me at various periods throughout the evening.

I phoned John G in Rawtenstall and told him we'd be over on September 17. Watched a TV programme on Lord Lichfield which was good. Mum, Dad and Harry and the dog, Tan, arrived at about 10 and we had a minor home brew session which took us through until 12.45. We discussed the Lane Fox family and the fact that old Wetherby people Brigadier Hargreaves, the pompous Lord Lieutenant, and Sir Kenneth Parkinson, our beloved chairman, are married to sisters.

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