Monday April 8, 1974

Up at 9 with Mama. Dad does some washing for her and busies himself in that irritable way which never ceases to niggle me. The poor man can never just sit down and put his feet up. He is always messing about in the name of so-called 'useful activity'. However, Dad also hates the way I lounge around all day. "Why don't you find something to do?" is a favourite phrase of his.

At about 10.30 I go see Mrs Perfect, whom I have neglected since February '73. Howwever, she still is the same old gossip. A kindly old soul really, but I do suppose I could walk into her abode and say I'd changed sex and joined a circus as a high wire entertainer and she'd still say: "I always knew you'd fit into that sort of life perfectly, Michael. It is important to create an interesting existence early in life, isn't it?" Really I do suppose that she's a typical snob, but I don't mind snobby people at all. I'm certainly not perfect. Well, not quite perfect yet, so I cannot pass judgement on others.

Go to Guiseley Library. Get a book "Elizabeth of Glamis" by David Duff - a pictorial biography of the Queen Mother. Sit about all evening reading it.

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