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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Tuesday December 5, 1978

Fog again.  I didn't get to work until 9.05am but who cares? No NUJ members were working and we found Malcolm Barker attempting to bring out a newspaper quite alone.

I saw in the Daily Telegraph death announcements that Sir David Salt, Bt, has died. When he was in his fifties in 1975 he married an old woman in her 70s. Also spotted that Lord Harewood's aunt, Viscountess Boyne, has died aged 75. Malcolm was thrilled by these items of news and snatched them up it fill the pages of the pathetic EP.

At 3pm with all the routine work finished I left the office and attempted to get but a bus but none were forthcoming, so I caught a train at 3:45.

Silly Old Jim

Read Kenneth Harris's interview with the Prime Minister in the Observer (Sunday).  Silly Old Jim (Callaghan) says he's going to go on looking after us until he's in his eighties. The beloved leader fails to see why politicians give up and retire at sixty when they are the peak of their brilliance. I agree, Jim. Churchill was almost 150 when they finally shot him, and Mr Gladstone was 463.

I am going to give you ten guesses as to which British monarch was born on December 6. (Yes, I know that's tomorrow). Come on! Who am I? I was styled "Dei Gratia Rex Angliae et Franciae et Dominus Hiberniae" and was born at Windsor on Dec 6, 1421. Crowned at Westminster on Nov 6, 1429, and crowned King of France at Notre Dame, Dec 17, 1431. I married April 22, 1445, Margaret of Anjou, daughter of Rene, Duke of Anjou, titular King of Sicily, Naples and Jerusalem (descended from the Count of Anjou, brother of Charles V). I was deposed after the second Battle of St Albans, March 4, 1461, and re~instated Oct 9, 1470, from when I reigned until taken prisoner in April 1471; I died in the Tower of London shortly after the Battle of Tewkesbury, May 4, 1471, it is supposed by violence, and was buried at Windsor. Who am I? For the answer refer to the block capitals above Dec 9.

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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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Saturday February 26, 1977

A great day. Tony and Martyn come at 12.30 and the three of us go to Bradford. The Gay Liberation movement are holding a mass rally and we seriously consider setting up a 'Kiss Me Quick' stall in Manningham Lane.

Kiss Me Quick Stall?

We go to WH Smith's and make verbal love to Michelle. Delightful bird. Tony buys a pair of shoes, and at 2pm we set off for Uncle George's** residence at Harewood. Up to our knees in mud and slime we head straight for the beer tent where the lager is unbearably cold. Three sausage rolls later we decide that the hill climb is incredibly boring and we head back to the car which is parked in a cow field. Wading through water-bogged trenches we spot the car trapped in by three or four other vehicles. It's like the Battle of Vimy Ridge. Coated in shit we dislodge the car and set off like Japanese mud wrestlers in search of a car wash.

Meanwhile: That night. Down to the Hare with Tony, John & Maria. CB is pissed and says Richard Marshall is rotting in a dungeon in Leeds following an incident at the (Leeds) United match this afternoon. Chris and Pete M come in. Go with Tony, John and Maria to the Craven Heifer at Addingham and Chris and Pete follow on. Tony is such a great lad.

** The Rt Hon. Earl of Harewood.

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Sunday April 6, 1975

Low Sunday. Up at 10.30 - my throat crying out for liquid refreshment. Dave B is doing the housework downstairs, and Neil is sat in the lounge with an extra large grin on his face. For ten or fifteen minutes I sit incapable clad in John's dressing gown clutching a glass of God sent orange juice. Dave took a few photos of me, and then I disappeared into the bathroom to prepare for the arrival of Mr Lawson.

Dave comes at 11.15 and we drive to Pannal near Harrogate in heavy rain. Meet Taff, a friend of Dave's from Worcester College of Education, along with his girlfriend and a snobby cousin. The snobby cousin was accompanied by his even snobbier girlfriend, Dorothy. We went to the Travellers' Rest where we had some truly obnoxious lager, and then move on to the Scott's Arms at good old Sicklinghall. Dave I kept getting lost on the country roads, and we finished up supping rum and oranges until 2pm. Driving home we pass Harewood House, and I persuaded Dave to come look round. He thought the gardens were fantastic, and I was surprised when he took an interest in the interior of the stately pile. Haven't been to Harewood for about six years, so I'd forgotten what most of it was like inside. Dave enjoyed ths story about Lord Harewood and Miss Patricia Tuckwell. Went into Harewood Church in the hope of getting a glance of the last resting place of the late Princess Royal, but don't see anything. Once again, I feel as though I'm well on the way to puncturing my bladder, and my exit from the little church can hardly be described as dignified.

Home at 5. Fish and chips with John, Lynn and Dave. See tv all night. 'Bedazzled' starring Peter Cooke and Dudley Moore was fabulous. Laughed myself into a semi-coma, or just about anyway.

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Wednesday January 15, 1975

The new Whitaker's Almanack for 1975 fails to give an accurate account of the order of succession to the throne. No mention is made of the little Lascelles baby who, according to the Sunday People, was born in September 1973. This babe of the Hon James and Mrs Lascelles is 21st in line of succession. I'm surprised that the YP haven't done anything on it. But I do suppose that Lord Harewood consulted Mr 'Call me God' Linacre and told him that no report at all would be welcomed by himself and Mrs Jeremy Thorpe and others.

On the subject of minor, forgotten royalty, I'd better mention something about Princess Anne and the new royal personage that never was - Capt. Phillips. The royal pair have recently visited Rowley Hall, ten miles from Hull, in good hunting country - with the intention of purchasing the place. Buckingham Palace officials who lie until they lie about the lies they're said already, say that the princess is looking for a place of her own before they're turned out of Oak Grove in 2 years time. Hull does seem a bit out of the way and off the royal beaten track, but I suppose Mark would like the peace and quiet.

A busy day. Sarah is in better spirits. Kathleen too cheerful - on the verge of hysteria. Argue, in a friendly vein, with Sarah this morning on the subject of that repulsive creature John Stonehouse. She said he's committed no crime in using the name of a dead man to creep off to Australia. Only the other day a bloke was sent to one of Her Majesty's Holiday Camps for doing the very same thing with someone elses passport.

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Wednesday October 31, 1973

The Earl and Countess of Harewood have not been invited to the wedding of Princess Anne and Mark Phillips. Cousin George and Pat have been out of favour with the true royals for years. In fact 'Pat' was never 'in' with her old man's relations at all. I believe that Harewood's dirty goings on with his secretary killed the Princess Royal, who died 28.3.1965. The old girl had only just discovered that her son had an illegitimate son. The thought of divorce was too much for her. Even worse, the poor old Duchess of Windsor or the 'Unknown Queen of England' is also uninvited. But the sweet old thing is said to be 'looking round for a present'. Poor soul, it is scandalous the way she's been treated by her own family. She never shows any animosity towards them, although she's got every right to do so.

After a good days work I decide I want to stay in. John and Chris go to the Yorkshire Rose where Chris is asked his age by the staff. They walk out. Andy joins them. They come here with a supply of large cans of ale. We sit playing records and chatting until nearly 11. Andy goes for his bus. Chris rings his Dad but decides to stay the night. We look at photo albums until 1.30. Chris sleeps in the girls bedroom. A very enjoyable evening.

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Saturday February 24, 1973

Mum got me up at 10.30. My interviews in Leeds. Set off at 11 but Mr Rawnsley gave me a lift into Guiseley, and then made my way to the train station - my Leeds train came at 11.15. My first interview with a Miss Cook at Debenham's was quite satisfactory - it lasted 20 minutes. She gave me an application form and told me to come back in July. I spent the next 2 and a half hours walking round Leeds. The large indoor market and the many pedestrian precincts are a lot better than the traffic filled streets. Bought some sandwiches and ate them in the park.I then went to look at the parish church where my great-grandfather, John Rhodes married Christiana Ross in 1890. Quite an elaborate pile.

2nd interview was not quite satisfactory. She said I would need "O" Level Maths before they would accept me. That's out for a start! The afternoon seemed such a drag and I was on the Ilkley train at 4.30.

Once again I was almost starving to death on my arrival home. I ate a large dinner whilst Mum sat by demanding to know the results of my interviews. I told her that they had hardly been successful.

It was on the news tonight, the headlines to be precise, that Marion, Countess of Harewood, who was divorced from the Queen's cousin in 1967, is to wed the Liberal leader Jeremy Thorpe, whose 1st wife died in 1970. They seem to make a nice couple. However, Lord Harewood has fallen from Royal favour since his re-marriage in 1967 to Patricia Tuckwell, whom Dad always calls "Miss Barnworthy" for some unknown reason. Old Harewood had a son to Miss Tuckwell back in 1964 - they very year before his late mother the Princess Royal died. I wonder if she knew? H must certainly be an embarrassment to the Queen.

Went down to the Chuck Wagon at 7. Pauline has refrained from her usual course of making passes at me. She remains a spinster, and talks even more. Toffer threatens to gag her one of these days. I was home by 1.15. Strange for Saturday nights. Came to bed 2.15.

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