Monday August 21, 1978

Mrs Christine Newton, Princess Margaret and the Hon Gerald Lascelles are leaping around in their carpet slippers today tearing open birthday cards & presents, and devouring large chunks of iced fruit cake. I haven't laid eyes on Mrs Newton since the day of her marriage in August last year. She may be dead. She may be expecting a multiple birth to fill the bedrooms of her pleasant semi-detached property.

Sarah was taken ill at the YP with pains in her chest (again). She looked awfully pale. At 10 we kicked her off home. She told me that my letter to Delia from Nunwoman, Leaper and Nunwoman Solicitors had Barbara Wheeler wetting herself yesterday.

Met Jacq for lunch at the Ostlers for a few pints and cheeseburgers. The friendly, neolithic bar~tender, who is deaf as a post, always brings the wrong food and drink. Jacq, for instance, had a brandy and Babycham followed by a Gin Fizz ~ and we only ordered lager.

Tonight: with Dad, Dave and Lynn to Lawn Road. I made a start 'emulsioning' the lounge. Worked until 10:30.

John called to see Mama tonight. He moves to Stranraer in two weeks and starts his new job on September 11.

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Tuesday August 10, 1976

Bored at the YP and leave at 12. A very hot day and I'm home an hour later after struggling up the lane in putrifying heat. Have a sandwich with Mum in deckchairs in the front garden. Go down to Guiseley Library at 2. Get two books for self and one for Mum. 'The Grand Duke's Woman' by Pauline Gray, about the brother of Tsar Nicholas II of Russia and his morganatic wife. It's so good that when I get home at 3 I sit on the lawn and read 100 pages. Dad sits nearby in a deckchair snoozing. The sun is extremely hot and I scowl continually. Must get some sunglasses. The other book is 'Eva and Adolf' by Glenn Infield [sic]. Hitler doesn't particularly interest me but I thought I'd broaden my knowledge for once.

Ring Lynne at Burley-in-W but I'm told she's off until Thursday. Oh I remember her telling me now. Will ring Thornton-le-Dale tonight.

News: I have no objections to the Arabs purchasing the Dorchester [Hotel], London's Post Office Tower, the Victoria & Albert Museum, and the National Gallery, but I draw the line when it comes to Fort Belvedere. The Duke of Windsor's favourite home - where he abdicated - is now the home of an Arab businessman! It's disgusting and Gerald Lascelles ought to be thoroughly ashamed of himself. What next?

Read in the garden until 5 o'clock and then retire inside for tea with the family. Spend all night reading about poor Grand Duke Michael and his wife. Finish the book - all 200 pages. The fate of the Russian Royal Family is fascinating. Did they die in the cellar as it is supposed, or is the Tsarina working as a cleaner in a newsagent's shop down the Old Kent Road? We shall probably never know.

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