Tuesday May 30, 1978

Oak Apple Day ~ and King Chares II's birthday

Very hot and sticky and un-English. Chaotic at the YP. Wore one of Pete Holroyd's shirts to work, and although I say it myself I looked a bit flash.

Dave L phoned me at 6:30. He says he's got a job in pub management with Whitbread in the Gloucester area. He starts in August. Teachers everywhere should mourn his passing.

I altered a pair of trousers ~ transformed them from the baggy variety into narrow legged ones ~

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Wednesday April 19, 1978

Another busy day at the YP.

Jacq and I went to the Central at lunchtime where we had just one miserable drink. We discussed my job and I vowed that by the beginning of August I'll be in new employment. We discussed all possibilities from milkman, to brain surgeon and ITN newscaster. Jacq has just spent £15 on a new pair of shoes which consist of three straps of cream leather with heels at one end. Nice though. She is sceptical about the weekend arrangements. She isn't acquainted with John (Pinder) and Alison and fails to see how easily we are going to obtain lodgings for Saturday night and thinks it impossible that our intended hosts will chauffeur us back to London on Sunday. I have greater faith in John William Hutchinson Pinder, Esq, and Miss Alison Mary Dixon.

Got a lift back to Guiseley with Jim. In fact this evening I was summoned to his office at the Civic Hall where I waited for him to terminate another conference on the banning of the NF march in Leeds on Saturday. I was home for just after 6.

This evening sport dominated the television but I didn't watch thanks to the mysterious grip of Samuel Pepys. I have read 122 pages. I find it all very fascinating.King Charles II is preparing to return to his kingdom from exile at Breda.

On the 9 o'clock news I saw Prince Andrew make his parachute drop over some misty, southern county. He said he had enjoyed it very much. It's the first time I've heard the 18 year-old prince speak. All the women go quite mad over him. Even mother casts James Garner, the American actor, aside at the sight of Her Majesty's second son scrambling across a turnip field all entangled in his rip cord.

Bed at midnight with Samuel Pepys.


Samuel Pepys's diary.

The family tell me that I look pale and in some cases yellow. Sunken eyes were mentioned. Blimey, is my age showing at last?

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Tuesday August 17, 1976

Even hotter today. Work was uneventful, and home at 5.15 and have roast chicken. Rang Lynne today. She's been making enquiries about a flat. Karl wants to complete his final year at Prince Henry's Grammar School and so he'd be able to join her. No doubt she'll want one in the Otley area. I cannot understand why they [the Mathers] had to move all that way to Thornton-le-Dale in the first place. It seems to me that Donald Mather is the only person who wanted to move. Very undemocratic. It certainly would never be allowed to happen in our family. If, for instance, Dad wanted to move out of the area against the wishes of the rest of us, he would be court martialed, and no doubt found guilty of high treason, and executed. The Angolan mercenaries received no sympathy in this house.

Leap into the bath at about 8pm to help kill the boredom. The television is uninteresting and things in general are running at a low ebb. My research into the descendants of Charles II remains incomplete, and I just cannot be bothered to take it up at present. You have to be in the right mood for that sort of thing.

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Monday August 9, 1976

Continue researching those in descent from Charles II. The 2nd Duke of Grafton has scores of descendants in the [House of] Lords, and new additions to my list include the Earls of Rosslyn, Westmorland and Warwick; the late Duke of Sutherland, Viscount Churchill, and many more. The completed list should be amazing. My name hasn't cropped up yet, but I expect it to very shortly.

Nothing interesting tonight. John comes at 9.30 and stays for about an hour. He says Maria si still undecided about the names of the baby if it proves unlucky enough to be of the female sex. He says she wants to do something rash and give it a foreign name [if female] but a boy will be John Philip junior. It proves my theory that couples always go mad and adventurous when naming a girl. We're always Johns and Michaels &c, while they are Hyacinth, Rosamond and Guenivere, &c. Mum _______.

Have fish and chips and a bottle of Guinness for supper and watch a weird Dirk Bogarde film on the BBC. Nothing of 'that' nature would have been screened on TV a few years ago, but they don't seem to bother these days. Upstairs at 10.20. Wash my hair. Bed at 1am.

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Tuesday August 3, 1976

Begin a mammoth task. Spend the evening going through Burke's Peerage tracing the descendants of Charles II in this weighty volume. From the 2nd Duke of Grafton alone (a grandson of King Charles II) I've so far traced 19 or 20 peers alive at the moment ranging from the Earl of Longford, the Marquess of Hertford, the Duke of Newcastle, & Lord Ponsonby of Shulbrede, to worthies such as Lord Harlech and Katie Boyle's ex-husband, the Earl of Shannon. Charles II certainly has a lot to answer for.

Sit with Dad at midnight and read to him the proclamation by George V establishing the Royal House of Windsor in 1917, and three minutes later he's aslseep good and proper. It's my personality folks! But really royal proclamations are not what I'd term suitable bedtime reading. They make very nice reading for Kings and Queens, who had a hand in the wording, but shagged-out 42 year-old policemen want something a little more exciting. Lady Chatterley, probably.

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Tuesday July 20, 1976

Do not feel like working today and decide over breakfast to pack up and come home at 12 o'clock. After three and a half hours I'm back in Guiseley and standing outside the Albion fish and chip shop with my tongue hanging out. Since returning from Ibiza I have been obsessed with this tasty delicacy that has delighted the palate of millions for several generations. I cannot control myself and dash through the door and eat fish and chips on the spot.

Home at 1 o'clock for lunch. Bacon sandwiches this time. Mum and Dad go back to work and I ring John & Maria to see what's going on this afternoon. Molly tells me they are out but they come round at 3 after receiving my message. Maria devours chunk after chunk of orange cake and we sup cups of tea whilst some decision about how we are to spend the afternoon is reached. Eventually we decide to go to Guiseley Library - Maria and I do anyway. I get a novel by Trollope which no doubt I'll even give a second glance at, and a volume on the descendants of Charles II and Nell Gwyn. Maria came in to see if there was anything on christian names. Nothing interesting catches her eye and they bring me home at 4.30. I spend an hour before tea reading a chapter on the Dukes of St Albans.

I am giving some thought whether I should, or should not, purchase John's car. He says he'll never afford to run it once he is in his own residence and the advantage of buying it from him is that I can do so by paying weekly installments or £10 or so. At tea time Dad does his best to disuade me, saying that I'd have to put the motor before all other things and he dedicated a greater part of the monologue to the listing of the sacrifices I would be compelled to make.

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Thursday March 27, 1975

Maundy Thursday. Yet another bloody busy day. Chaos and Hell Fire all rolled into one. Curious about something on the Court page of the Daily Telegraph. The Queen, Queen Mother and Princess Anne yesterday attended a memorial service for Her Majesty's cousin, Rev the Hon Andrew Elphinstone. No where have I seen anything to the effect that he has actually died. So, being highly curious I rang the Daily Telegraph to be informed that he had passed away on or about March 21. Obviously such information is of little interest to sane people, but it means a lot to me.

Sarah was in a good mood for a change and leapt to my aid when I had written a letter to Christine only to discover I had no postage stamps. She suggested I route around in the waste paper basket to salvage a respectable looking unfranked stamp to glue onto my epistle. And to think her Papa is the head postmaster at York.

In my letter to Christine I woffled on for ages about nothing. Well, when I say nothing I mean woffling on about Gary's surname - Walters. Being absolutely insane I connect Gary with Lucy Walters, the mistress of King Charles II, by making out he was her grandson.

Home at 5.15, my usual hour of late, and sit in front of the tv making little attempt to prepare for my meeting with Helen at the Hare. Both John and Papa refused to take me to the pub, so I go by bus, arriving at about 8.45. Sit with Helen, and Naomi (who John thought wasn't going out) brought us home at kicking out time.

I departed for bed after being quizzed as to what I'd been doing out with Naomi.

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