Showing posts with label buckingham palace. Show all posts
Showing posts with label buckingham palace. Show all posts

20121220

Thursday December 22, 1977

_.Received two weeks pay, which is fatal. By Christmas Eve it will be sadly depleted. I went out and bought a couple of presents and intend purchasing no more. Blimey, I'm no Paul Getty. Why spend when it's just for spending sake?

David 's party is on for Dec 26, and John's on Dec 28, but other than this I don't think we're in for a riot.

Her Majesty with her first grandson.
Master Peter Mark Andrew Phillips was baptised today at Buckingham Palace. The poor soul going through life with such a pitiful name can find comfort in the knowledge that he is the oldest grandson of Her Most Illustrious Majesty our Sovereign Lady the Queen and it is unlikely that Master Phillips will ever endure the horrors of our state education system or experience the agonies of taking home £30 per week. Oh I'd change places with him and dip my head in that font any day.







-=-

20121214

Thursday December 8, 1977

The snow disappears. Feel much better. I have tired of GBS's plays and I am 'glued' to a romantic novel about John of Gaunt and Katherine Swynford. Not my usual style of reading but it's excellent.

Master Phillips is to be christened Peter Mark Andrew by Dr Coggan at Buckingham Palace on Dec 22. The Queen's grandson called Pete! I suppose they've named him after Mark's Dad, Maj Phillips. Andrew is for the baby's uncle of course. Mark is self explanatory.

Carole phoned. They are letting her out tomorrow. David G phoned. Why don't I go over on Saturday, he asks? Why not indeed. _________. For a couple of quid who can argue with the lad? Blimey, Stockport one week, Muswell Hill the next. I'm the nearest thing to a peasant jet-setter. Dave says Glenn is back from his Miami sojourn.

I'm going to Leeds tomorrow to collect my pittance and purchase five or six 'Chrisy' presents.

-=-

20121114

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.


-=-


20110817

Monday September 13, 1976


Harry takes me to the bus stop at 8.15 and I bid him farewell until we next meet. Sure has been a good weekend. Feel something like how Richard Burton must feel like after he's been on the bottle for three or four days on end. I shall have to go to some sort of hydro to dry out my pickled liver, or kidneys [indeed which ever organs succumb to pickling after the consumption of vast quantities of alcohol].

Ring Lynne at lunchtime but her boss reminds me she's on a course this week in Bradford. Also ring home: still no developments from Maria. My nephew is four days late now.

Back at home: ring Lynne at Auntie Lilian's at 8.30 but she isn't in. Start watching a Dirk Bogarde film and it's midnight before I think of phoning again. Aunt Lil would probably have a coronary at this time of night.

Continue reading 'The Beatles' by Hunter Davies. Feeling shagged out still.

The Davina Mary Sheffield saga gathers momentum. We [Joe public] should read nothing into this until Buckingham Palace issues a denial. They only issue denials to cover up the truth. I approve of her anyway, even if one reader writing in the EP thinks 'Queen Davina' sounds odd.

-==-

20100617

Thursday December 25, 1975

Good old Christmas Day. Up at about 10 and feel a bit lost because I have no presents to open.

We all have a happy time and consume a few drinks of sherry before lunch which is the highlight of the day. Turkey, marvellous, and so too was the pudding. Mum should be canonised for her services to cookery.

The Queen gave her Christmas address from the garden of Buckingham Palace and the theme was for each and every one of us to band together and destroy terrorism and anarchy. She seemed a little frosty.

Lynn and Dave exchanged presents at about 4 o'clock and he tells a horrified Lynn that both his mother and her have bought him watches. Lynn is upset, but Dave says having two watches is no problem. One on each wrist perhaps?

We go to Carole's at 5 o'clock and Mum and Dad meet Mr & Mrs P for the first time. I stay watching tv until midnight and Mr P brings me home. The others had all left by 8.30 and I just about passed out from the terrible heat of the Oakridge Ave central heating. Home after 12.


-==-

20100611

Sunday October 19, 1975

21st after Trinity. Last day in Hayes for Pete and me. Clamber out of bed at a suitable hour and plunge into a hot bath. Ten minutes later I'm to be found stuffing my suitcase full of all my wordly goods, and half an hour later we're stood in the arrivals lounge at Heathrow Airport. Don't worry, I'm not doing a bunk or anything like that, but poor Pete so much wanted to see London Airport before returning to the stagnation of Bramhope, and we couldn't find it in ourselves to deny him this little pleasure.

Two hours at Heathrow watching Jumbo jets flitting about was quite sufficient for me, and we then, the three of us, moved on to London's Victoria bus station. Depositing our cases, we went on yet another tour, taking in the National Gallery, Charing Cross Restaurant, the Banqueting House at Whitehall and Buckingham Palace again. The Royal Standard isn't up, and I hazard a guess that SHE is out for tea this afternoon.

Bid farewell to Chris at 5.30 and head home on a little coach to Leeds. I read 'Mandingo' all the way home and keep dropping off to sleep, much to the amusement of Pete.

At home I hear Mum and Dad have passed an embarrassing weekend at Ravenglass with Uncle Harry, and am told by them that the Station in Ilkley is not going to fall to the Rhodes clan for tenancy. Bastard Charrington is more appropriate.

-==-

Thursday October 16, 1975

Up at the crack of dawn and make a few final touches in readiness for my venture south. Complete darkness awaits me outside at 6.45am as I set out, suitcase in hand, down Hawksworth Lane. I travel by 55 bus to Leeds where a slight drizzle awaits me. Meet Peter near Schofield's and he too is armed with a suitcase very similar to mine.

Our journey down is one of little excitement. After combing through the Daily Telegraph and the Sun we eat fruit gums. At Leicester we have a coffee in one of those filthy, giagantic mortuarys. Hardly a decept cup.

In London's Victoria Coach Station for just after 1pm and I'm frozen silly. Tow arm up whilst we're waiting for Chris we attempt to find a coffee bar or something, but somehow end up with my already ice-cold hand wrapped around an equally ice-cold pint of lager. It was whilst we were sat in this position that Chris found us.

Depositing our cases out of the way we proceed to do a quick tour of the famous bits of London close to Victoria. Buckingham Palace is our first port of call and I see with great pride that Her Majesty is in residence. The beautiful autumn day, and the foliage in the park made it a sight to behold indeed. Pete hadn't seen the palace before, so it wasn't a wasted journey. 10, Downing Street was also on the agenda, but as usual it looked deadly quiet. The PM was no doubt having his afternoon nap upstairs with Mary. The old story about Nero fiddling whilst Rome burned could easily adapted to Mr Wilson and his afternoon bedroom activities.

Back to Hayes and the Arlington Hotel for 8pm. We wash and change and go out for a drink. Back for 11, and we sit about laughing and watching Chris's TV until after 12. He certainly is lucky having a place like that. He will be too spoiled to ever re-adapt himself to ordinary home life when the time comes.

-==-

20100504

Thursday August 28, 1975


Meet Carole on the 6.30pm 55 bus and go up to Yeadon to see 'Barry Mackenzie Holds His Own' at the cinema. I saw it a month ago with David and Christine but I feel that all films starring Barry Humphries warrant a second visit. I did thoroughly enjoy it, and think Carole was quite amused, though not over the moon about it. The cinema was horribly hot and we kept getting funny looks and glares from the other film-goers when we hooted with laughter, and I can assure you that when Carole laughs she certainly makes sure everyone knows about it. Once again she excelled herself tonight and dressed as though she was going to a Buckingham Palace garden party. Everything about her it just what I like in a bird. I only hope we'll last out OK. She is a Scorpio, which does make her my type - like Sarah for instance - and I'm in constant fascination of her.

On the subject of Sarah. She departed for Corfu late tonight, and so I won't be seeing her two weeks. I have given up altogether with her. She is a darling but doesn't need me at all and I see no point in persuing someone who isn't interested in me.

-==-

20091113

Thursday September 19, 1974

Rise at 11.15 after a very comfortable night. Excuse the condition of my writing but I have no fountain pen with me and I'm having to make do with one of Sheila's biros.

Very warm and sunny day. One of the best since we arrived here. Forgot to mention in yesterday's entry that Denny and I went to Buckingham Palace (18th) to see George III's collection of pictues and other items of historical interest. Fancy, actually setting foot in Buck House!

Go into Windsor where I have my hair cut in a new place called Franco's. The chap spoke little English and cut my hair in a fashion he thought fit. It looks quite pleasant and Denny agrees it doesn't look bad at all. We go to the castle (again) and into the state apartments (again). It's amazing how much more you manage to see the second time around. Saw the bullet that killed Lord Nelson at Trafalgar displayed in a glass case in one of the castle chambers.

-==-

20091111

Wednesday September 18, 1974

Brilliant day. Denny and I are up and out by 8.15 and are in London by 10am.

Very wam morning and we stand outside Buckingham Palace where a large crowd is assembled to watch the changing of the guard. A very impressive scene with the Welsh Guards follows. We go by tube to the Tower of London, where a Yeoman warder rumages through Denny's handbag looking for bombs and grenades. Have a guided tour before seeing the Crown Jewels again. the Imperial StateCrown is the ultimate in beauty.

See from the newspapers (hanging about the place) that we are going to the polls on October 10. Denny and I move on to Downing Street where a large crowd of BBC, Thames TV and ITV cameras are displayed awaiting the arrival of Mr Wilson or some other worthies. See Lady Falkender arrive and capture the event on camera for posterity. Get the tube to Westminster and stare at Big Ben and the new statue of Sir Winston Churchill which is an unsightly object. Quite exhausted we go back to Victoria and get the train to Windsor arriving back at 7.

Go for a pizza at the restaurant near Queen Victoria's statue at the head of Peascod Street and leave 10 minutes later after scoffing loads of the stuff. Sit in front of the TV all evening with John and Sheila seeing "Steptoe and Son" which gets more and more hilarious each time the series is churned out. Get some beer in from the Copper Horse pub and feel drowsy in front of the gas fire. Not at all surprised about the election date...

--==--

Sunday April 1, 1984

 4th Sunday in Lent Mothering Sunday New Moon Sunny, bright, &c. Smothering Sunday. All Fool's Day. Busy. Rob came and so too did th...