Monday November 19, 1979

_. The dreadful Ayatollah Khomeini gave something of an interview on the BBC programme 'Panorama' this evening. He is a disgusting religious fanatic. Misguided, wicked and obscene in his hold over the Persians. A war may well be in the offing. President Carter's popularity has soared following the recent kidnapping of US officials in Teheran.

No chat with Ally today. I am seeing her tomorrow. Sue & Pete went to the Elmer tonight with Janet Simon and her odd boyfriend, a 21st birthday party I think. It's a year since I went to the Elmer with Christine. Jill's party I think. Oh, dear sweet Christine! I really should phone her to see how things are going. Dave L's opinion is that she has washed her hands of us and doesn't want to know us anymore, but surely this distancing is only natural when one is newly married. One day I fully expect her to bring this boy of hers into society. I have yet to sanction the nuptials.

To bed after 11 with my Hitler volume. You'll be relieved to hear the war has now started. Farewell to Poland and all that. I really deserve some reward for following Mr Toland's every word. Mind you, it did take me much longer to finish 'The Count of Monte Cristo' if you remember.

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Wednesday August 30, 1978

I have been watching a TV programme about Vietnam and I must say that it seems to be a very boring place these days. Saigon, or Ho Chi Minh City, as it now is, was once Asias answer to Weston~super~Mare, with strip~tease joints on every street corner and with all night hot and cold running tarts. Sadly, it now resembles a Suffolk village hamlet with nothing but rice and with Methodist ministers everywhere. President Carter really should do something about it. Perhaps I should drop him a line?

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Thursday February 3, 1977

Busy day at the YP again. At lunchtime I went to Schofield's to claim Mama's repaired coffee perculator which I carry off without having to pay anything. Look in Austick's and run my fingers through 'Majesty' by Robert Lacey. I shall have to buy it.

Ring Lynne. She's getting a cold, pneumonia, or something. I feel bored and utterly flattened. I fancy having a passionate, close, sexy romance with a lusty bombshell. Lynne just isn't up to it. Where will it all end?

Jim Callaghan: Scottish referendum

To Yeadon cinema with Lynne to see 'The Omen' (Yes, I've seen it before). It is good. Lee Remick especially. She goes off to Roundhay at 11pm in a gust of wind, hail and conglomoration of other elements.

Sit with a Scotch in front of the TV watching one of President Carter's fireside chats to the Universe from his White House parlour. Greasy little man. Never trust a president with gold fillings and Mohair pullovers that's what I say.

Quake in my socks at the late night news with Miss (Angela) Rippon. Evidently, Scotland, Wales and other bits of the UK are going to have one of those referendums in November to decide whether they want to get out of the Empire or not. We under-privileged English do not have a say in the matter. The tartan maniacs and mean leek-growing sods can pull out on us at any time but we English do not have the right to say whether we want  them to go or not.  Jim Callaghan really is the bloody limit. We should have a referendum asking the simple question: "Don't you think it's about time the Labour Government resigned? Answer 'Definately' or 'Yes'.

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Thursday January 20, 1977

That American slug, Jimmy Carter, became 39th US president today. Poor Henry Kissinger is no longer secretary of state and that nice Mr Rockerfeller's gone too, not forgetting President Ford, who was a good guy. This peanut breeder (sic) doesn't look up to much. He seems incapable of making intelligent conversation and I'm sure he'd make a better lyricist than a politician. Hammerstein and Carter, yes that's better. Why do I say this you ask? Well, everything he says seems to rhyme in a sickening sort of way. Enough of him anyway.

Master John Rhodes

Went to the Register Office in Leeds today and got the birth certificate of Christiana Ross (my great-grandmother Rhodes). She was born at Bramley on December 18, 1865. 112 years ago. Gee Whiz, it's Alfred the Great here we come.

Lynne came at 7.30 and we watched TV for a couple of hours. Went down to see John & Maria. JPH is a victim of the dreaded GERMAN MEASLES! The poor child looked ghastly, and it quite upset us all. Maria especially was very pale. Home at 11.30 to tell Mama of her grandson's ailment. Panic stations, nearly.

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Sunday December 12, 1976

3rd in Advent. Do bugger all day. Oh look! It's the third Sunday in Advent! How exciting! How thrilling! How fantastic! Piss off, the lot of you.

Reflections:

What has befallen Miss CB? What has befallen Miss Akroyd?, and Miss Fountain for that matter? Have I lost my sex appeal or something?

Poem:

Dr Kissinger, we sure will miss yer,
It'll hurt to see you go

Mr Carter must be a farter,
and when I see him I'll let him know.

Bum Bum.

Another poem.

President Ford I'll be so bored,
when you're gone and far away,
I'll cry and cry - Oh God, I'll die,
on Carter's inauguration day.

MLR, 1976 [c]

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Wednesday November 3, 1976

Up at 7.30. I actually heard the alarm ringing at 7 o'clock today but chose to ignore it. Over breakfast Lynn informs me that the nauseating Jimmy Carter has won the American presidential elections. This is a terrible start to the day. His smile is almost abnormal and I for one can't see him doing any good at all. Poor old President Ford will go down in history as the only president of the USA never to have been elected into office.

To work with Jim [Rawnsley] who is still agitated about the health of the pound and his mind thinks of little else. Carol Johnson comes into the office at 9 o'clock saying [Gerald] Ford is the winner. For a couple of hours we do not know exactly who, or what, has become U.S president.

Go to 'lunch' at the Central with Judith. She drinks pernod and eats cheese and onion crisps. Stuart was never mentioned. I was robbed by the thieving old bitch behind the bar but we didn't let that get in our way. She laughs at the photo of a weeping President Ford on page one of this morning's YP. Work until 5pm. Home at 6. Lynne arrives simultaneously and we have tea. Mum goes on about me not informing her when Miss Mather comes to tea, but surely we have no need to stand on formality in this house? At seven o'clock we go to the Commercial for one drink before she departs to a friend's house in Harrogate & a birthday party. I return home and watch a stinking James Bond film with Lynn and Dave and afterwards look on in horror at a gloating Jimmy Carter on the 9 o'clock news [or was it News at 10?] Bed at midnight. Mum and Dad have been at Molly and Jim's with John, Maria and JPH. I have a growing suspicion that baby Rhodes is destined for great things.

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