Showing posts with label king edward VII. Show all posts
Showing posts with label king edward VII. Show all posts

20170314

Tuesday April 10, 1979

_.  Jim Rawnsley insists that the so-called Yorkshire Ripper is none other than the Earl of Harewood, our ugly royal opera fanatic. Jim's theory is that he [the Ripper] has to be a member of the Royal Family in the tradition of Jack the Ripper, of Victorian London, who undoubtedly was Edward, Prince of Wales. I smiled at all this as we journeyed to Leeds because Jim expounds his theory in such a charming and amusing way. Wouldn't it be marvellously embarrassing for the YP if this was so? Whilst the fiend was in the boardroom swilling gin and humming along to Wagner with Gordon Linacre, forty thousand journalists are scouring the county searching for clues. Sadly, the identikit mug shots of the supposed mad man bear no resemblance to his Lordship. Another likely candidate, according to Jim, is Brigadier Kenneth Hargreaves, the former Lord Lieutenant of this charming, picturesque county.

I am enraged and spitting blood at the bloody civil servants strike, which is affecting the payment of my national savings certificate. I need £120 in May [to pay for my holiday] and things don't look very bright at all. The pigs wouldn't be on strike at all if only this country had the proper leadership. What are we coming to, for God's sake?

I have been reading my journal from five years ago and do you know I seem to have been more intellectual and mature than I am now. Writing about Napoleon III and his social policy I was. Blimey, it's quite frightening but I've already forgotten most of my history and Napoleon III means little or nothing to me now. Is my brain rotting away?

Mum and Dad went off to see Marlene and then Mabel after tea. They say they will lend me the £120 until my national savings money arrives.

Sue is full of cold again and her nose is glowing like a furnace. Pete arrived and we watched the Academy Awards on TV.

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20131125

Sunday October 22, 1978

23rd after Trinity.

Slept until noon. My God nobody can accuse me of being an idle waster. If I keep going with my marathon walks I can see me making the 1980 Moscow Olympics.

Jacq came over at 12:30 just as I was splashing around in the sink and we went immediately to the Commercial, supposedly for beef sandwiches, but Annie had sold out, so we had to resort to alcohol. At 2 we got on a bus to White Cross and had fish and chips at Harry Ramsden's. Quite divine.

A brisk walk up Thorpe Lane and that was my exercise over and done with for the weekend. I just sat in front of the tv all afternoon with the two ladies. Daddy was out on the streets defending the citizens of our crime~ridden township. Soweto isn't a patch on Guiseley.

Boring 'Lillie Langtry' was on tv again and although I find Francesca Annis quite a little scorcher I am afraid the script and action ~ or lack of it ~leaves a lot to be desired. We are into six episodes and she hasn't even had Bertie, Prince of Wales, in bed yet. Talking of bed, I went to mine at 11 o'clock.

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20131113

Monday September 4, 1978

At lunchtime I went to Parker's Wine Bar with Sarah. Very amusing too.

Lynn can't stand the excitement and was forced to leave work at lunchtime with pains, nausea, and a general feeling of revulsion. On arriving home Mother calmed her with half a bottle of whisky and after a few obscene phone calls to awkward wedding guests she was fighting fit once more.

Saw part II of 'Holocaust'. The Jews have suffered like I never imagined. Mr Sadat ought to remember this when he begins his 'peace talks' with the Israelis at Camp David next week. For God's sake leave poor little Israel alone.

Did you know that according to the Sun newspaper Victorian society was rocked to its very foundations by the Prince of Wales's affair with Lillie Langtry? I certainly didn't. Certainly, Victorian 'high' society was far from shocked and the prince's 'set' accepted all Edward's mistresses because that was the done thing in those days. The rest of Victorian Britain ~ the coal miners, farm workers, shopkeepers, &c had absolutely no feelings whatsoever on this 'scandal' because they had no idea that anything was going on.

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20120527

Sunday May 1, 1977

3rd after Easter. Wet day. Not going to say much because it was such a normal, uninteresting day. The Silver Jubilee is looming. The poor Queen is going to be exhausted by autumn. Bless the Old Girl.

Naomi: dragged me in
Saw part of the 'Edward VII' series on tv and then Mama gave me a lift into Guiseley in torrential rain. I was stood at the bus stop for ten minutes when Naomi drove up, threw open her car door and dragged me inside. Very hospitable of her. Miss K. Moorhouse was a fellow passenger. They were on their way to Denise's for dinner. Eventually got a bus at Rawdon at 5.20pm. Work was up to it's usual mundaneness. Can anything be 'up to it's usual mundaneness?' or have I invented the word?

Taxi home at midnight. My driver was a silent one this time. Not a reptile expert or connoisseur of Rococo architecture as they usually are. The journey home was one of inward thought and general reflection. Poured with rain all the way.

Ate boiled eggs and sat looking at one of the lower class Sunday papers. Queen Victoria awaited my attention in my boudoir but my eyes ached and I had no intention of taking her up tonight.

Isn't it remarkable how some days I fill a page with minute, incredibly tiny handwriting and on other more lazy occasions I can scribe away like something not dissimilar to a moron?

King George V had silly handwriting, you know.

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20110819

Thursday September 23, 1976


A great drunken piss-up with Tony, Stuart and Andrew [Stuart's brother]. Neville's in Ilkley is a revolting, obnoxious hole. Snobbish is too mild a word to use in labelling it. Enjoy ourselves all the same. Up to Oakwood Hall where I consume vast quantities of alcoholic refreshment and become enamoured by a Bingley College of Education tart by the name of 'Skittles' or 'Peggy'. I'm getting just like King Edward VII. Lynne is my beautiful Alexandra though.

Back to Stuart and Andrew's at 2am where we discuss plans for the Queen's Silver Jubilee party. Andrew goes on and on about masturbation. "Am I back at school?" I ask myself. Oh dear. Tony & Stuart are having a party on October 16 to commemorate Tony's defection to W.H.Smith's retail section. Eat cornflakes and Rice Krispies before leaving for home - singing hymns all the way like religious fanatics. It's better than church anyway. What's the name of the Archbishop of Canterbury these days? The current one has a nice wife called Jean.

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20100413

Sunday July 20, 1975



Nice lunch. Sit in the front garden with Lynn, Dave, John and 'George' and have some revolting salmon sandwiches for tea. God only knows just what they put in those little tins. I'm 99 per cent sure it isn't fish anyway.

Finish reading 'Bertie', a novel about Albert Edward, Prince of Wales by Tyler Whittle. The book was a good deal better than David Butler's.

Listen to the radio as usual, then have Carole on the phone. She's ringing from 'George's' and she wants me to go round and see her, but I say 'no' and stick to my guns throughout. She says: 'Dave will be seeing Lynn and John will be seeing Maria. So why can't I see you?' I fail to see the connection, and leave her moping calling me a 'rotten sod' &c.

Sit with Mum through a Burt Lancaster film and then see an Italian one with sub-titles. Come to bed at about 12.30 feeling miserable again. Where is that happy, smiling lad that was Michael Rhodes? Sad, isn't it?

-=-

20100410

Tuesday July 1, 1975


Dominion Day, Canada. The start of yet another month. 1975 will be gone before we really begin to appreciate it. Warm, nice day again, but a little cloudy over Leeds.

Before I say anything else I'd just like to lodge another complaint about 'The King, the Press and the People: A Study of Edward VII' by Kinley Roby. Well, it's not a complaint as such, it's just a warning to future biographers of American birth writing about English royalty. DON'T. And when I say don't, I mean please do not write about English royalty when it's painfully obvious you know nothing about the subject. It's as bad as me writing a critical study of Abraham Lincoln!

It really is remarkable how the nation is going crazy over King Edward VII and Queen Alexandra. Derek Naylor, much against his will I might add, has been forced by our beloved editor into writing a five-part feature in the EP on King Edward and the Tranby Croft 'Baccarat Scandal.'

_____It's awful working with someone when you are besotted with them (Sarah). I can understand what the situation was like with CB and Gary. It will never work out, but we can always try. Friday will be an historic night indeed, and if I don't make a move then I might never receive the opportunity again.

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20100407

Tuesday June 10, 1975


Still the same old summer sunshine. What is happening? Are we actually going to have one whole week of nice weather? I'll let you know whether we have or not on Thursday.

Home from the YP at my usual hour after informing Kate of my intended day off on Friday. Christine and I are nipping off to Otley on that day, where the pubs are open all the time because of market day. So you'll understand how elated I feel. Pubs open all day and having Christine all to myself!

Saw Queen Victoria die tonight in 'Edward VII'. The series will be hopeless without Annette Crosbie parading about, but I remain a dedicated follower all the same.

Bed at 10.30. Oh, before I go, I think I'll say something about the Royal Household. Why? Well, don't you think it strange that no less than three members of that institution (Royal Household) have died within the short space of two weeks? I do anyway. The first was Lady Margaret Hay, a Woman of the Bedchamber to the Queen since 1947, and one of HM's most closest friends. The second was Lord Plunkett, another pal of the Queen and deputy master of the Household. The third was Admiral Sir Christopher Bonham-Carter, a chief for many years of the Duke of Edinburgh's household. So quite naturally, the surviving members of the Royal Household will be betting on who is next to go.

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20100325

Wednesday May 28, 1975


A right Royal Day today. I arrived at work to find a photo of the bearded Prince of Wales on my desk, and I was startled to see how much he looked like a young King George V. Without further ado I delved into the picture archives and emerged with a photo of George V, suitably bearded of course. The resemblance is remarkable and I realised immediately that this would be a good idea for a story. 'People' the YP diary is an obvious place for such an article. However, my labours are in vain, and every time I attempt to pass on my ideas they are shouted down and ridiculed. By lunchtime I have given up hope. However, at 3 I was approached by Chris Dawson with a request for pictures of ALL the bearded monarchs of England. 'Hell', I thought, 'how many Kings of England have been bearded. Let's solve this by a process of elimination.' George VI and Edward VIII were clean shaven, and so was Queen Victoria. King Edward VII and King George V were proud beard owners, and none of the first four Georges had one. Queen Anne didn't have one, and William and Mary couldn't grow a beard between them. So, in one way or another the throne of Great Britain was beardless between 1649 and 1901. Henry VIII and poor Charles I were reasonably endowed with facial hair, but that's about all.

But alas, and alack, no sooner had I suppled Chris Dawson with images of bearded kings that I receive news of horrific consequence. Carol is shouting something like: 'He's shaved it off! He's shaved it off!' Indeed, the prince has succumbed to the razor. Carol was laughing hysterically. 'He's got a moustache now'.

The thought of searching for moustachioed monarchs didn't please me all that much. Poor Dawson returned to his desk, head bowed at the thought of losing a good story.

On my arriving home I look in at the 6 o'clock news and see the Prince of Wales endowed with a moustache dressed in robes of Grand Master of the Order of the Bath, and looking remarkably like the Prince Consort. However, I have made up my mind never to notice resemblances amongst members of the Royal Family again.

Home at 5.30 for tea and prepare to see Leeds United in the European Cup. Dave Baker joins us and we indulge in a few glasses of lager, ale, &c.

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20091210

Saturday November 9, 1974

Birth of Edward VII, 1841. Lynn wakes me at the usual time. Feel dreadful as I usually do on a Saturday morning. Have my usual orange juice and ticking off from Lynn about getting drunk the night before 'all these late nights can't be doing you any good', &c. Work until 4 o'clock. Carol didn't come until nearly 12 because she overslept & she stayed with me for a couple of hours. Haven't heard anything since Thursday about her and Michael having a ridiculous divorce, though once the seeds of destruction are sown I can see nothing but trouble and chaos ahead. Home at 4.

Hear from Mum that Dad's new job with the CID is no more. The Chief Superintendent came to see him this morning and more or less told him to get lost as far as his future in the force is concerned. He's positively choked about it. Refuse categorically to go out tonight and almost succeed in my aim.

Sit by the tv with Mum until 11 o'clock watching the Festival of Remembrance from the (Royal) Albert Hall. The Queen, Duke of Edinburgh, Queen Mother, Duke of Gloucester, Princess Alice, Duchess of Gloucester, the Duke and Duchess of Kent in the royal box. The poor Duke of Edinburgh looked ill and positively ancient. At 53 he should have at least 20 years of life left in him, but by the way he was standing tonight I can't see him doing so.

At nearly 11 John, Peter and Keith call in and drag me off to the Cow & Calf where we live it up until 2. Keith drank himself idiotically under the table and he sat unconscious in the car for ten minutes before driving us home. 25MPH all the way!

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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 ...