Wednesday March 22, 1978

I am sick and tired of the media's cruel, extremely rude and misinformed treatment of Princess Margaret. Two years ago it started in the 'Sunday People' and now the drivel is being expounded by the BBC. Tonight was no exception. I sat and seethed in my chair. Her private affairs are being debated in the Commons tomorrow at the instigation of that lefty, Commie bastard with the silly name like a mobile home or 'prefab', Mr Canavan. It is a pity that in times of ruination and national collapse we have taken to trying to destroy just about the only positive product left ~ the monarchy. However, they've been insulted before and have lived to tell the tale with the exception of King Charles I. So I'll just keep my fingers crossed.

To come back down to earth: it was pay day because of Easter looming up. Isn't it funny that the crucifixion and resurrection of Jesus Christ should determine on which day I collect my £30?

A letter from David L reminding me of his return home at the weekend. Oh, no. I'm off camping and so I won't see the lad until next week sometime. I shall have to phone him and make amends.I feel terrible about the way I shunned poor David for most of last year _________________.

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Thursday July 7, 1977

Got three weeks pay! Oh for the sands of Ibiza!

Out with Carole to the Regent and then the Station Hotel and the Ings (Yuk) and then the Drop. Carole was nice. Discussed very little. She may be going on holiday with Fogarty.

Back at Pine Tops. Mum and Dad entertain Ernest and Edith to home-brew. Much pissed.

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Thursday May 8, 1975

Ascension Day. Pay Day. I'm not writing much, because I don't want to. Love sick, I am. It rained all day, and I attempted to buy a camera in Boots in Leeds, but they only accept Barclaycard if you produce a cheque. Who do they think I am?


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Thursday May 1, 1975

Almost completely recovered now. I thought I'd be laid low with pneumonia by the end of the week but luckily it won't be so. Pay day again. My wage isn't all that cronic really, and I know I'm always complaining of lack of funds, but if I earned £7,000,000 per week I'd still be moaning and groaning by Wednesday night.

I informed Kathleen today that I want, and indeed will have no matter what, Friday June 13, off. This will mean that I can travel down to Windsor on Friday morning - go out with John, Sheila and even Chris - then go into London early on the Saturday morning for the Trooping the Colour escapades in the Mall. It would mean me having to return home on the Sunday to be back at the YP on the following morning.

Chris goes to Windsor at the very beginning of June until December, and I can't help feeling envious. If Utopia or Paradise really exists I somehow think that Windsor will not be far away.

News items: Lady Sarah Armstrong-Jones is eleven years-old today. Saigon fell to the communists yesterday and is now Ho Chi Minh City or something equally hideous. Princess Anne and Capt Mark Phillips are stranded in the Australian outback after plane trouble. The Queen left Jamaica after the Commonwealth PM's Conference and is now on the way to Japan with the duke for an official visit.

This Princess Anne thing sounds funny. I can just imagine the Royal party stuck there with the sun blazing down. Is wallaby edible I wonder?

Papa is still doing the lounge, and I must admit it looks brilliant.

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