Thursday November 10, 1977

Went to see Carole at 2.30 bearing a box of chocolates and fearing the worst. Leeds Infirmary is an incredible place to get in. The bloke who first discovered Ward 26 may well have been Capt Scott.

Carole is ill but one wouldn't believe it by looking at her. Her looks have not deteriorated nearly half as much as I'd been informed by other visitors. She was overjoyed to see me and was an Angel. For me it was glorious to see her face and hear her voice. Her mother was with her, and behaved very nicely. It was just like old times in fact. Carole is the bravest kid alive - and she's only just managed to hang onto that by God's will. Mrs Phillips says that on two or three occasions Carole was a 'write off', and it seems that their priest is wearing a path from his church to the hospital. I was horrified to hear Carole's description of several revolting tests they have subjected her to, and could not find the suitable words to respond. I am over awed by it all. Her body is paralysed after treatment she's had on her spine and she is blind in one of her eyes (but unaware of this). I left at 3.30 and returned to the YP promising to visit again on Monday with chocolates and sandwiches. In hospital Carole is actually eating meat and vegetables of the non canned, fried or baked beaned variety. She is putting up one Hell of a fight. I do love her. She loves Peter Fogarty. I just want to see her happy whether it's with me, Fogarty or the Aga Khan.

To the (West Yorkshire) Playhouse at Leeds with Sarah after tea at Delia's. Saw 'Twelfth Night' with Vivien Heilbron as Olivia. Incredibly amusing. I seemed to enjoy it more than Sarah who looked seriously bored by it all. I do think she finds me dull. We left at 10.30 and she came back for a cup of tea (she never partakes in coffee). Mum is still laid up in bed and the Norfolk venture is fading all the more. Poor Soul. I shall have to get her a present at the weekend.

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Sunday March 16, 1975

Passion Sunday. CB's Birthday. Christmas is a few months early this year. Yes, you've guessed right. It snowed this morning and it's so bloody cold all over it's almost like Arctic conditions, where Capt Scott came a cropper. What a crazy mixed up nation of ours this is.

Do sod all today, and sit in front of the television all night. Laurence Olivier in 'Khartoum'. A good film, and I refuse to be lured to the Hare & Hounds with all the others. It's a nice feeling to be able to prove that alcoholism isn't my leading defect as yet, but I do suppose the coming years will give a more clear analysis.

John comes back with Naomi at about 11 o'clock and I can hear the wedding bells quite clearly this time. I know I've said it before - Christine White, Carol Smith, and Jackie Onassis, but this time it's all quite different. The feeling in my bones is definately conveying the impression this time. We are still unaware as to what denomination the Reverend Mr Downing belongs - and I must admit, the situation is perplexing. He's not C of E, so he's either Mormon, Methodist, Primative Methodist, Baptist, Budhist, Druid or Zionist. I doubt very much whether the chap is a Cardinal - not with an 18 year-old daughter. Methodist too seems unlikely, because they are opposed to drink and little Naomi is propping up the bar of the Hare & Hounds seven nights a week.

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