Wednesday August 15, 1979

_. I went to Horsforth at 4:30 to meet Doreen, an old friend of Delia's and Sarah's godmother. She is insane. We went to a shop to buy flash cubes for Delia's camera. Sarah dreading the prospect of the coming evening with the ghastly Bill North. At 7:30 they rolled in, Barbara Wheeler, Olive, Bill North, &c. Bill became immediately intoxicated and stood reciting a monologue in the style of Hermione Gingold. Poor Barbara almost collapsed in her efforts to stifle hysteria. As we left the sitting room for the dining room and food I suffered the nauseating experience of being groped by Bill, who patted and caressed my buttocks. Obviously he was hideously pissed, but this is no excuse. In my endeavours to escape the old perv's clutches I almost collided with the avocado mousse [like liquidised privet clippings].

Sarah had a phone call from Richard Burke telling her of a party at Parker's wine bar for a couple of lads who are clearing off to Greece. She immediately summoned a taxi and off we went to Leeds.

At Parker's the usual 'Regent brigade' were out in force. I immediately made a bee-line for Jacq and Linda and proceeded to rob them of cigarettes and white wine. I amused them with the tale of my assault. At midnight Sarah went off with Richard, which was naughty of her. Jacq drove me home.

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Monday June 30, 1975

Pleasant day, but piles of work to do. Sarah and I go shopping at lunchtime, and I lay hands on a new T-shirt for the coming Spanish trip. It cost £2.99 which isn't bad. The last one I got was £3.50. I'm not really making excuses, but the weather was so hot we just had to have a drink. So into the Ostlers we hurried and drank three pints of cider between us ( I had two thirds of the three pints). We arrange to do Town Street again next Friday, but starting at the Fleece instead, and at 7pm too. I can hardly wait.

Home at 5 feeling starved again. After tea I chase around the back lawn with the mower and do a good job of it I think. Dad was spraying all the roses with fly killer, and Susan was watering her 'night scented stocks' - so on the whole we made an industrious little bunch.

Do sod all in the evening other than read a really revolting book about King Edward VII and the Press, by a Yank called Robey, or something, and I really think it numbers among the worst books I've ever clapped eyes on. The memoirs of Raffaelle, Duchess of Leinster were the worst, but this thing comes a close 2nd. He's convinced that Queen Victoria was perverted sexually and insists of inventing members of the House of Lords. 'Earl Russell of Clarendon' for example. There's never been such a peerage title.

Saw Mr William Hamilton, MP, on TV tonight. He was discussing his book 'My Queen and I' - a revolting pack of lies and abuse. Hermione Gingold, the actress, really pulled him, Mr H, to pieces, and he hadn't a leg to stand on. This so called 'honourable' member for Mid-Fife ought to be transported to Uganda to take the place of Denis Hills, who faces a firing squad there on Friday. I'm sure Britain wouldn't mind, and General Amin isn't bothered who dies so long as he sees blood flowing. Sad really.

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