Thursday November 30, 1978

New Moon 08:19

St Andrew's Day {Scotland}

It's late so I'm going to be brief. Didn't venture out for the usual orgy of ales and delights of the female form ~ party due to the poor state of my finances, but mainly due to the heavy fog. Very dense and nasty it was.

Jim and Margaret came here at 8:30 and we watched a Greta Garbo film on the BBC.

The Prince of Wales is in Brussels on a visit to the EEC headquarters and tonight he dined with King Baudouin and Queen Fabiola at Laeken Palace. Princess Marie-Astrid was not present though she frequently stays with her uncle, the Belgian king. I do not want HRH to marry a foreign princess when these islands of ours are swarming with English roses. It is heart rending to know that the prince is going on to Spain for the weekend with the Duke of Wellington and Lady Jane Wellesley ~ reputedly a 'shooting weekend'. I do wish he'd pull his finger out.

Bed at 12 o'clock. Susan was in all evening.

-=-

Tuesday June 3, 1975

One of the most hideous days of the year. Rain, rain, and even more rain. I went to the YP wrapped in two woollen pullovers as a protective shield against the ridiculously cold weather. Snowing in June!

Just think, tomorrow may be the last day that Britain is a member of the EEC. What a tragedy that would be if it were true. Although I do not agree with the idea of referenda and all they entail, I'm nearly persuaded to go out and use my vote. We should stay in the Common Market, but I don't like the way the people have been asked to decide. A General Election on the subject should have been offered to us - the only democratic process in Britain. We'll be one step down the ladder to hopelessness if Britain chucks herself out of Europe. Things have changed since Lord Salisbury went on about 'splendid isolation' in the 1890s.

Quite a busy day really. I sat attempting to fathom something out this afternoon. What is the difference between a step-brother and a half-brother? Does such a thing as a 'half-brother' exist at all? This line of thought began when I dug something out of the files on Martin Parsons, the step-brother of Ld. Snowdon. Ooh, and did you know that Lord Snowdon has a half-brother, Peregrine Thomas Owen Llewellyn Armstrong-Jones, who was born Nov 15, 1960? Remarkable really considering that Snowdon is 44 now. Having a brother 30 years younger than oneself cannot be a pleasant thing at all really.

Home at 5.30 for dinner consisting of roast lamb & roast potatoes. Lamb is always greasy and horrible, but the others seem to like it.

John is still minus employment but Mum may have found him a job at Moon's, her place of employment. I hope and pray he finds something soon. It's quite impossible to find anything in this economic climate.

See 'Edward VII' which is up to its brilliant standard.
-=-

Monday May 12, 1975

It is 38 years tolday since the Queen Mother was crowned Queen Consort of England in Westminster Abbey. The poor old chap around whom the service was centred was taken from us some 23 years ago, but I am sure that the Royal Family will be thinking about him today.

A wet and nasty day really. Stay inside the YP until it is absolutely necessary for me to go out at 4.30 for my bus, and get quite a soaking making my way home.

Nothing of great interest is in the news today. Just the same old Common Market Referendum trash and more propaganda about Mr Wedgwood Benn. One MP said the other day that Mr Benn would be Prime Minister before Christmas, and I don't think anyone could ask for a worse Christmas present. The very thought of Britain's answer to Hitler and Mussolini rolled into one being installed at No 10, Downing Street, is something I really don't want to dwell on.

Kathleen is back tomorrow and that is something else I don't wish to spend a lot of time thinking about, because life is hectic and unnecessarily 'panicky' when she is in the office.

Christine still dominates my thoughts. That girl doesn't know just how much I love her, although she always gives me a beautiful smile and calls me 'biased' when I attempt to talk her out of her infatuation for Gary taking over altogether. Such a tease she is really. However, she is quite aware of the fact that I will never give in. Christine Mary Dacre Braithwaite won't be rid of me until I am dead and buried.

The Royal visit to Japan is just about over and it seems to have been a tremendous success. The Queen's looked lovely all week - fashionable too - and no doubt we can expect a sizeable trade agreement with the Japanese shortly. The monarchy certainly pulls in the needed cash from abroad.

-==-

Monday May 5, 1975

Holiday in Scotland. I always loathe and despise Mondays. Why this is so I fail to understand. Probably my devotion to the Yorkshire Post and the prospect of eight hours solid work ahead of me has something to do with this.

Kathleen is on holiday and so I'm left with Saturday's EP to deal with, and this doesn't cheer me up. This paper is riddled with trash. and so after I've glanced through it and disposed of it, I snatch a look at todays nationals. Nothing of interest other than the Queen and Duke of Edinburgh's state visit to Hong Kong, and endless tosh on the Common Market issue. I really am becoming worried about the sanity of our future Communist Prime Minister, Mr Wedgwood Benn, alias the 2nd Viscount Stansgate. He really is a left-wing creep. I for one will book a one-way ticket to New Zealand on the morning he moves into No 10, Downing Street. Horrific he really is.

See TV all evening and throw myself into Lady Randolph Churchill before hitting the sack.

-==-

Friday May 2, 1975

I saw Harold Macmillan on the TV last night and I must say that he's made my mind up once and for all on this referendum nonsense. I always said that I would never vote in any referendum, because it's an unlawful abomination, yet the TV and the papers had almost made me change my mind. I would have voted for staying in, but that's besides the point. No, Mr Macmillan convinced me that it would be a disgrace to vote on June 5. What is the point in having a Houses of Parliament when they are just going to hand over all important decisions to us. And let us face it, the Common Market isn't a matter of life and death. We have gone through two world wars and we, that is the ordinary plebs, were never given the chance to state our views on that subject. Good old Harold Macmillan. They don't make 'em like him anymore.

Work at 5pm. I never object to working nights until the actual day comes along, when it's all too late to do anything about it. Friday night without Wikis is just pure, unadulterated Hell.

On my arrival at that saintly place, the Yorkshire Post, I settle down for an extremely quiet night. See nobody until 12 and the only convseration I really have is with the telephone operator when booking my taxi. Pinch a picture from the throw-out drawer of Barbra Streisand - the sexiest thing I've ever had the pleasure to see on the screen.

On my arrival home I dig out a picture frame from underneath a pile of rubbish in my cupboards and Miss Streisand is formally established on the table near my bed.

David B has had the photos developed from the orgy we had after my birthday. Some brilliant ones of me the morning after!

John is in bed when I eventually climb the stairs. Mum stays he staggered in at 11.45pm with blurred vision and a slow, slurred voice. Pissed he was. Lucky swine.

-==-

Sunday April 27, 1975

4th after Easter. Yet another beautiful day. Wake at about 11.30 and go down for a coffee. Sit glancing at the Sunday papers which I don't normally do because they're a load of old rubbish. See that the Labour party have voted with an enormous majority to pull out of the Common Market when this so-called referendum is thrust upon us in June. A tremendous blow it will be for the Prime Minister, and it wouldn't surprise me if he was to hand over all his powers to Wedgwood Benn. Then the Nation can relapse into total confusion and madness.

Everyone is talking about a camping trip at Whitsuntide, and so I'll have to save the pennies. Also, June 14 is the day that the holiday people want their money. Aaarrghh!

Depleted numbers out for a drink tonight. Just John, Chris, Carol and myself. After starting at the Hare we move on to the Station Hotel in Guiseley, where I've never set foot before. Don't like the place much. Move on to the Emmotts - horrible; then the Station on Henshaw Lane for the last one. The four of us have a good argument about politics. I try to persuade them not to vote in this coming referendum, and am pleased to hear that John and Carol agree with me that we shouldn't really be having one at all. Unconstitutional and pathetic it really is. Chris is of course a staunch Conservative and thinks we belong in the EEC - I quite agree with him, but refuse to believe that the British electorate should be allowed to make the decision. Harold Wilson just wants to pass the blame onto us when everything goes wrong.

-==-

Thursday April 10, 1975

Excuse me, please, but I'm in an awkward position for writing at the moment. Yes, I'm propped up in bed and it's only 9.30pm. No, I'm not ill, or anything. I just fancied the idea of an early night. Besides, this afternoon, I laid hands on a scruffy looking copy of 'King George VI: His Life and Reign' by John Wheeler-Bennett. Yes, you're quite right, I did read it years ago, but I always think it pays off to re-read something a few years later in order to fully understand and appreciate what was actually penned.

So here I am. What else can I tell you? Oh yes, more snow today, and in the world of politics, our good friend the Prime Minister has announced that the EEC referendum will take place on June 5. NOT THAT I WILL HAVE ANYTHING TO DO WITH IT!! No, Sir, Uncle Harold and his Cabinet will have a long wait if they expect to see my little cross on the bottom of the nasty little ballot paper. A very long wait indeed.

Anyway, George VI is awaiting my attention, and so I'' say goodnight.

-==-

Tuesday March 18, 1975

Quite a day of excitement really. That treasured relic of the Parliamentary system, namely Uncle Harold, announced today that the Labour government is in favour of our nation remaining a member of the Common Market. I can't really see why he made such a fuss about it in the first place. The one good thing which the late Mr Heath did was to obtain our membership of the E.E.C. and at the time I thought it was most childish of Uncle Harold to say he'd bring us out. Anyway, the so-called referendum will decide categorically what we're going to do - but if both Conservative and Labour parties think we should stay in, I fail to grasp why we have been consulted at all. I'm intending ignoring the referendum when it comes. Futile things like this should be of no concern to the general public at all. It's a bloody disgrace really.

Snowed again today. Weird weather. Went for a jog around Leeds at lunchtime. Consumed a couple of sandwiches in Park Square and made several useless attempts to lay hands on a copy of 'Private Eye'.

The editor ran around the library in a flap this morning shouting 'Sheila Viscountess Devonport' in a hurried voice at irregular intervals. No news cuttings were to be found on the dear, noble lady, but I did lay hands on a photo, dated 1952. 'Devonport. Sheila Viscountess D-E-V-O-N-P-O-R-T. Lady S-H-E-I-L-A Devonport. She's a viscountess. A peeress. L-A-D-Y S-H-E-I-L-A-D-E-V-O-N-P-O-R-T'. OK, we get the message. We enquire exactly what's happened to the peeress to cause such a panic. He says she's been kidnapped by the Black Panther, and leaves the library laughing hideously. Clearly not a devotee of the aristocracy. We later discover that she's only been forced out of her home in the early hours of the morning, and that no harm has befallen her at all. No doubt you're overjoyed on hearing this.

The Duchess of Kent was in Leeds today on university business.

See a Cary Grant and Doris Day film on BBC2 and stagger to bed at about 11 with P.G. Wodehouse, after listening to Uncle Harold talking a load of old rubbish on the late night news. It's really terrible the way he's trying to hoodwink everyone over this referendum nonsense.

-==-

Tuesday March 11, 1975

It's even more noisy in the bloody office today. Kathleen had headphones on all day.

Read an interesting article in the recent News of the World re Lord Snowdon and Lady Jacqueline Rufus Isaacs. It says that Lady Jackie, the daughter of Lord Reading, was "very much in love" with Lord Snowdon, and that the affair had started in 1969 when the couple sat at the same table in a West End club. Evidently, his Lordship visited Lady Jackie's flat two or three times a week under the pretext of calling on her brother, Viscount Erleigh,and they managed to see each other frequently in 1970 without more than a handful of people knowing. When the story was grabbed by the Press in 1971 the affair had to cease. It says Lord Snowdon never visited the Reading family home again, and Princess Margaret ignores Lady Jackie when they occasionally meet at parties.

The beloved Prime Minister is 59 years old today. He celebrates at Dublin Castle where the EEC talks are going on, and never again will I say nasty things about him because he's done so much for the Queen's pay rises and the Civil List. He's a decent old sport really, and I don't suppose it's his fault that he was born with all these confused ideas about politics. Someone really should discover an antedote for socialism, because when that day comes Harold Wilson will require a sizeable injection.

-==-

Thursday January 23, 1975

Nothing much to report today. See 'Top of the Pops' on TV this evening, and it's quite amazing how sober it's all becoming. Pop is on the decline.

Still deep into 'Edward VII'. I realise now that poor King Edward was only lecherous because Queen Victoria refused him any position or decent job. Sixty years is a long time to wait for a responsible position in 'the family business.'

This referendum nonsense is getting completely out of hand. The Labour government is making a serious mistake if it thinks that the British people want to make a choice for themselves. Why bother having a Houses of Parliament if the MPs are going to give all decisions over to us. The ordinary man in the street knows sod all about the Common Market, but one thing is certain, it takes no Sir Christopher Soames to realise the ridiculousness in withdrawing our membership when it took all those years and all that money to get us in. I for one do not intend exercising my so-called right to vote when the time comes.

-==-

Monday January 1, 1973

The bells of St Oswald's Church, Guiseley announced the New Year. I was standing outside Pine Tops - alone on the drive - as 1973 came in. John, Denise, Dave and Chris were inside. I could hear the Smiths next door singing "auld langs ayne". Mum and Dad returned at 12.45 with a party of friends. Sue and Alison came along afterwards. The party went on until 6.30am. John was sick and retired to bed at 3.30, and Denise and I ruined the party for Chris R by telling him that he resembled somebody off an Oxfam poster - he failed to see the funny side and took off home at 2.30. Lynn and Jackie came much later. Dave B fancies Lynn. Dad left for work at 6.30am when Sgt. Bill Stott collected Dave and him in the cop car. Denise and I slept downstairs and saw John off to work at 7.30. Mum followed to work at 9, cursing the fact that people have to work on New Year's Day. I slept from 12.30 to 1.40. I had been drinking whisky.
Auntie Eleanor and Uncle Jack and Stephen (who was as black as the ace of spades) arrived at 7.30pm and stayed until 11.40.
My first day as a European citizen. Britain has signed away a thousand years of splendid isolation to join the 250,000,000 Frogs, libidious Italians, etc. I suppose they'll sell the Queen to the French one day. I doubt whether Her Majesty is in favour of the Common Market. After all, it'll mean the end of the Commonwealth. I'm going to bed. It's 12.02.

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