Showing posts with label lady antonia fraser. Show all posts
Showing posts with label lady antonia fraser. Show all posts

20121214

Tuesday December 13, 1977

I am very interested in the Plantagenets now. Oh, don't get me wrong - I'm not deserting the House of Windsor, but  I am captivated by my ancestor King Edward III and his offspring, John of Gaunt especially. I will have to see if anything factual on this guy is in the store at Leeds Library. I have rarely delved beyond the Tudors and 'Good Queen Bess', but now my curiosity has been aroused there's no stopping me.

Fat, poxy, 48 year-old Queen.
The Stuarts were all very well but who wants to read about a fat, poxy 48 year-old Queen who's had thirteen children none of whom survived to tell the tale?

Quiet evening. Saw a play on the BBC called 'Charades' by Lady Antonia Fraser. Quite good. Took a bath at 11 and then retired after a hot drink with Mum and Dad at the foot of the troublesome Christmas tree. Who would have imagined that a yard of bloody tinsel could cause so much ill-will and general brutal violence? The house last night resembled a National Front Christmas party, the type we see on Labour party political broadcasts these days.

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20100506

Monday September 1, 1975


The first of September. I cannot decide if the year's gone really quickly or not. _____.

Lynn passed two more 'O' levels today, so now she's got seven 'O' levels. I have four, and Sue has two.______.

See in one of the cheaper Sunday papers that the fiend who's been pestering Princess Anne over the past weeks actually never heard the princess on the phone or has uttered a word to anyone at Oak Grove House. He was dismissed from his Post Office job for eaves-dropping. I think it is only right and proper under the circumstances. __________.

Oh, by the way. On Friday I wrote a lengthy letter to 'George' under the pretence that it was from Lord Macdonald of Sleat, Chief of the Macdonald clan. She rang at 6.30 to talk about it. Her Mum's been in hysterics all day about it and she's still laughing herself under the table now. Judith Rushworth may well be right when she says I should write a novel. Harold Pinter may be able to knock off Lady Antonia Fraser, but I bet I can write much better than he can.

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20091217

Wednesday January 22, 1975




Dad wakes me at about 10am with a cup of tea - no sugar of course. I don't think I've mentioned the fact that on Monday afternoon I stopped taking sugar in tea, coffee or whatever other drinks I will be partaking of in the future. Sugar can't really be beneficial, and besides, with the price of it rocketing up and up it's bound to make it last longer at home. It all tasted weird at first, but now I'm quite used to it. Sit in bed gulping tea and reading of the death of the Prince Consort in my new book. How anyone can be devoted to someone else, like Victoria was to Albert, I shall never know. I do tend to be a loner. The thought of a permanent partnership with a young lady brings on suffocating nausea. Marriage for me is out of the question for five or six years at least. Two years ago I felt quite different. June would have been down the aisle and then swept off to a little hotel in Majorca if she'd have let me. Thank God she didn't.

Saw something in the paper the other day suggesting that Hugh Fraser, the feeble husband of the sexy writer Lady Antonia Fraser, is to stand in the election for the Tory leadership. I quite fancy the idea myself. Margaret Thatcher just wouldn't do. And with Mr Heath going about killing dolphins just for the sake of it, I see no point in him remaining leader any longer - the poor sod is obviously off his rocker, i.e. mad.
Meanwhile later that evening: whilst on the phone to Chris, Dave walks in and drops a snowball down my shirt front! The winter is come at last! About bloody time too.

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Sunday April 1, 1984

 4th Sunday in Lent Mothering Sunday New Moon Sunny, bright, &c. Smothering Sunday. All Fool's Day. Busy. Rob came and so too did th...