Wednesday February 14, 1979

_. Valentine's Day.

I have a glowing red nose, dribbling over all and everything. More snow over night and it was a three and a half hour journey from Guiseley to Leeds. We [Jim R and I] left home just after 8, and I didn't enter the YP until 11:25am. Spend the day sniffling and coughing, generally out of breath and feeling abominable.

Reginald Maudling died early today from hepatitis. He was renowned for excessive drinking so no doubt the endless flood of booze hastened his departure. He fell from favour over his part in the John Poulson Affair and only last month he was mentioned in the scandal surrounding Sir Eric Miller. Maudling isn't going to be missed by many in his party.

Home in better time, but the snow is hurtling down again.

Today is Valentine's Day and I didn't get one bloody card. Mind you, I didn't expect one because I am out of favour with the majority of my female acquaintances. Carole is enraptured by Mick Lynch, and Jacq won't send me one because I failed to send her a Christmas card, or indeed a birthday card earlier this month. As for Christine, she appears to have severed diplomatic relations since Christmas. I've written twice recently and both epistles have been ignored by the tenant of Glenview Hall. Don't worry. I don't think it's serious. Only slightly disconcerting. CB is much taken up with Doreen at the moment.

Ate a large meal at 5:30 and then went into paroxysms of sneezing. Am I perhaps on my way to join Reggie Maudling on his journey to eternal peace and tranquillity?

David of Stockport phoned at 9 and was in good spirits joking about Martyn. Retired to bed at 10:17pm with several paracetemols.


-=-

Monday August 18, 1975

I seem to be waking up even earlier this week. 8.30am today! Lay in bed contemplating the ceiling until 10.30 when I rouse the two sleeping beauties from their slumbers.

We get a cool drink in the bar before nipping off to the beach, which is far too hot.

Back at the hotel we sit around in the sunshine until lunchtime with yesterday's Sunday Express. Not a very nice newspaper by any means, and I do wish they wouldn't give so much publicity to Reginald Maudling. The little creep is just as much involved in the Poulson Affair as Pottinger was, and I do think his criminal tendencies tend to colour all and everything he says.

The worst thing about this holiday is the food. I realise that we British are a fastidious bunch, but all the same I do think the menu could be improved. Oh, for the joys of Mum's cooking!

After lunch we go downstairs for a drink, and whilst I'm paying the barman John and Chris do one of their disappearing tricks. After searching the hotel from top to bottom I take a beer upstairs where I sit on the balcony to spectate at yet another storm. These Continental storms are only short-lived affairs.

Out on the town as usual after dinner. I meet Diane and Denise in the Manchester Arms, and John and Chris go off on a piss-up. We eat chips galore, and I bring them back to the hotel where, to our amusement, John and Chris crawl past us in an attempt to escape from the two women.

-==-

Monday February 11, 1974

Go by bus to the YP for a change and see Lynn Dawson, a cousin of Christine White, who I haven't seen since the summer of '71. I accompanied Miss Dawson in the drizzle to her occupational emporium, namely the Yorkshire Bank. By 8.45 I am at the YP.

Those two vile beasts of corruption John Poulson and William Pottinger were sentenced to 5 years imprisonment at Leeds today. It's a just reward for the creator of Leeds Olympic Swimming Pool I must say. Anyway, it makes a change from the usual OBEs and KCVOs. To be honest, I think the new Leeds baths is one of the most hideous monstrosities to be erected since Centre Point, and for that alone the judge should have doubled his trifling sentence. Poor Poulson wept in the dock - no doubt he'll not come out of jail alive. Poor sod.

The tv tonight was full of election news. Both major parties have now published manifestos and the usual bitter attacks upon each other have begun. Mr Heath seems very confident, but the opinion polls don't give him a massive lead. I cannot understand why Jeremy Thorpe doesn't receive the acclaim and popularity he so rightly deserves - and I seriously think that we ought to give him a chance in government. It would be nice to see Marion Harewood in No. 10. Even Mary Wilson will make a change from the boring bachelor escapades which have hung over Downing Street since 1970. A lot of popularity could easily have been created by the PM if he had married after the last election. His evident leaning towards male company cannot help raising certain doubts in my mind.

-==-