Wednesday August 22, 1979

_. Slept until lunchtime which is annoying. The day has passed me by. Out in the garden with Papa. He wants to move a large conifer tree from the front to the back. The offending tree is about 8ft tall and I fear for its future. My researches show that coniferous bushes are hardy, with close-knit roots. So, roll on transplant time.

To the YP at 4:30 and hear from Kathleen about of Chilean work-mate. He goes by the name of Alfredo [sic] Hernandez. ___________.

Home at 12 in a taxi driven by a poor misguided soul who tomorrow is packing everything in, quitting our shores, and removing himself to a far flung and obscure corner of the Empire called New Zealand. Blimey, I thought we had stopped doing such hideous exoduses back in the 1960s. I'd sooner emigrate to Saturn or Washington New Town. He [the taxi driver] no doubt thinks that the streets of Wellington are paved with gold.  Ate, and then bed at 1am.

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Tuesday February 22, 1977

Pancake Day, or whatever you want to call it. Pissing down with rain all day but I'm not put off wandering into town to collect the record 'Body Heat' by James Brown. Got a bit wet even after taking precautions with an umberella. The soaking was worth it for this soul masterpiece.

Link to Body Heat by Mr James Brown

David Owen.

Yes, David Owen is the new Foreign Secretary at 38. It sure looks like we're going to be lumbered with (Denis) Healey as chancellor until the next rotten general election, doesn't it? (Why am I asking you? You know the outcome anyway. I suppose David Owen is now Sir David Owen, KG, the former prime minister?) The Foreign Office at thirty eight surely ensures some sort of promotion in the next 20 years and the premiership is only three or four places up the scale. Oh, I'm bored with this topic anyway. Politics is dreadful. Mr Callaghan is a silly old fool, and you know what I think about Margaret Hilda Thatcher. Don't talk to me about devolution either.

Sitting on the bus at 4.30  I remembered I promised John & Maria I'd pay them a visit for tea tonight and so I disembarked in torrential rain in Guiseley and telephoned Papa with the news that I would not be home for a heap of pancakes. Down to J and M's where I sit entertaining the baby whilst Maria did her bit towards making Shrove Tuesday the traditional thingy. JPH is taking notice now and his grin is even wider. Spent a couple of hours going through Maria's mail order catalogue and made a few orders. I played my new James Brown record over and over again attempting to indoctrinate the baby with it. We want him to be a little soul kid. I also held his face very close to the TV when the 6 o'clock news showed the Queen and Prince Philip in New Zealand. He must learn to adore his sovereign from a very early age. His mother however yelled abuse and sang Irish rebel songs at the TV.

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