Showing posts with label john evelyn. Show all posts
Showing posts with label john evelyn. Show all posts

20121127

Thursday November 17, 1977

It's one o'clock on Friday morning so don't expect a John Evelyn-type of effort. I took a half day because Kathleen was getting on my nerves __________.

To pass the time whilst waiting for the start of hospital visiting time I went to look at the Stanley Spencer paintings in the Art Gallery and then, unimpressed and dejected, I went next door to study 'Burke's Presidential Families of the United States'. I laughed out loud, much to the horror of a sober gathering of students, on reading that Richard Nixon is descended from Edward III. (Aren't we all?)

Went to see Carole who wasn't quite as cheerful and looked depressed. She was wearing her engagement ring and so I presume that she and Fogarty have patched things up on Ward 26. Either that or he's given her the ring back because he thinks she's going to die. I gave her a Paddington Bear and left at 3.45. She likes me to visit. Her mum is sweet too.

Royal Albert teapot: £8.95.
Passing Schofield's (a shop) on the Headrow I spied a Royal Albert Old Country Roses teapot and forked out the £8.95 for it and carried it around town with it under my arm for a couple of hours. Got home at 5. Did nothing.

Drank a bottle of vino with Lynn and watched the Miss World competition. The title was won by Miss Bessie Braddock MP. Watched 'Rock Follies' which took me up to 12:30 when I plunged into the bath.

It's now 1:08am (Blimey, it's taken me 8 minutes to fill in this page).

-=-

20120804

Thursday June 23, 1977

The diaries of John Evelyn have been sold for a tremendous (I keep using that word) sum at Christie's or Sotheby's yesterday. Are you considering put these volumes under the hammer? You might as well.

The 'flying pickets': Grunwick Dispute
A hot day but the Yorkshire Post prevents my becoming involved in it or participating in any of its pleasures. Kathleen was infuriating.

Home at 5 for sandwiches on the lawn with Mama and Papa. Tony rang at 7.30 from deepest Hertfordshire - or wherever Bishop Thingy is. He is back among us tomorrow. It was good to hear him.

Martyn is playing golf somewhere and nothing was heard from him all night.

On the news saw the 'flying pickets' in the Grunwick Dispute. (Please refer to your history books, particularly the Dictionary of National Biography and the illustrious paragraph on Sir Arthur Scargill, KG, NUM, , &c). Someone at home asked what Mr Rees, our beloved Home Secretary, is doing about all the bother and Lynn quipped: "Oh Mrs Rees doesn't like Merlyn watching all this violence on the television and so she hasn't told him about it." Brilliant. No doubt silly Meryln goes to bed when Childrens' Hour finishes. Roll on Margaret Thatcher.

To bed at 11.30 after another squabble with Mama about my financial situation.

-=-

20100611

Saturday October 18, 1975


To Windsor with the lads today. Of course I didn't go see John & Sheila. I thought of calling in but decided it would be an embarrassment to them. After all, if no one is staying with them after they told me I couldn't stay because of lack of room, they'd be in a sticky position.

We have a great day. They are both thrilled with the castle, especially Chris who thought the state apartments were incredible. I mentioned to Peter that some of the carving in St George's Chapel and in some of the rooms of the state apartments was the work of Grinling Gibbons 1648-1720, and he excitedly sought information on him. He drifted from bookshop to bookshop for most of the afternoon trying to find suitable literature on him, but failed to do so. However, by the time we'd finished we knew everything there is to know about the Rotterdam-born sculptor and carver who came to England and was 'spotted' by John Evelyn, the diarist, in 1671 and was introduced to Charles II, Wren and others. Trinity College, Cambridge, the royal palaces, Burghley House and St Paul's Cathedral all have bits and peices done by him, and the bronze statues of Charles II and James II are attributed to him, but they may have been done by his 'school'. Gibbons was paid for them anyway. How's that, all from memory?

We have steak again for our evening meal at the London Grill in Windsor, and after having taken a look at Eton and had a swan-tormenting session on the Thames we make our way to Windsor & Eton Railway Station and get a train to Hayes.

At the Arlington we sit for what seems like days in the bar drinking, and a wedding reception in an adjoining room kept us wide awake.

-==-

20091212

Thursday December 5, 1974

Busy day. The bloody telephone didn't cease ringing all day. Nothing of interest to say, but I must say something because it's hardly proper to leave blank pages when ones diary is to consitute a major contribution to the historical, social, and literary knowledge of this, the 20th century. OK, we all agree I'm no Samuel Pepys, or John Evelyn or even 'Chips' Channon, but what do you expect from a comprehensive school educated creature who never set foot in Harrow or had Princess Marina for a godmother?

See TV and Monty Python. Nothing of vital interest. So I'll be saying goodnight to you all. I write this journal as though I'm addressing a party of OAPs at the local Darby & Joan. But it's not my fault.

-==-

Sunday March 25, 1984

 Moorhouse Inn British Summer Time begins 3rd Sunday in Lent Bacon sandwiches and the Sunday Telegraph. Fuss about the Queen's visit to ...