Wednesday August 1, 1979

_. Still wet today. It's so-called Yorkshire Day. I refuse to have anything to do with such a parochial celebration. A nauseating white flag is hanging limply over the YP building. It looks as if we have surrendered to one of the larger national newspapers. Have we perhaps under siege from the Morning Star and the Socialist Worker?

The Queen Mother was today installed as the 160th Lord Warden of the Cinque Ports at Dover Castle. I viewed the ceremonial on TV. The gale force winds and driving torrents of rain failed to wipe that beautiful smile from Her Majesty's face. She must have been water-logged. The Queen Mother was accompanied by Prince Edward, Viscount Linley and Lady Sarah Armstrong-Jones. Lady Sarah looked plump and sad, no doubt thinking about her father and new half-sister. The Snowdon's new baby is to be Lady Frances. Princess Margaret, stricken by 'flu, is confined to her cabin on the Royal Yacht Britannia.

Ally is depressed tonight. She went to Club Street with Susan and Peter and returned half an hour later down in the dumps. Sue and Pete had gone on and on criticising the place, pulling it to pieces. Ally, being the person she is took it all to heart.

Karen phoned to say that she and Stephen are having some sort of function tomorrow and would we all like to attend. I said yes, but Susan and Peter made no response. __________.

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Monday November 13, 1978

Bright, windy day. Sarah and I decided we should do something exciting and so at 12 we went to Da Mario's Pizzeria and noshed our heads off. Yes, dining out, lunching out ~ call it what you will ~ on a bloody Monday! It only cost us £1.70 each which is no great loss. Afterwards we both had our footwear repaired at the cobbler next to the restaurant, and we stood around, both bare foot, until about 1. My boots were re~vamped for £3.25. Bloody Hell, I'm going through money like Howard Hughes. (Did he actually spend money, or was he just a recluse? Oh, go on then, I'll say Paul Getty, just to be on the safe side). Money is still something of a novelty to me, and so you'll have to forgive me frittering it away so eagerly. Let's hope the passion will die before very long.

Speaking of passion ~ and who isn't these days? ~ Christine phoned this afternoon and we exchanged weekend reminiscences. Her coach, which left Victoria at about 5:30, went north via Sheffield, and they didn't get into Leeds until well after 11. How weird of our beloved National Coach service.

Tonight we endured three hours of the Royal Variety Performance which was transmitted live. It was in the presence of Queen Elizabeth The Queen Mother and at the finale she seemed to be touched by the loyalty and emotion of the generally nauseating cast. It worried me slightly. It looked like some sort of semi-official 'send off'. Does Lord Delfont think that perhaps Her Majesty won't be in a fit state to attend 1979's offering?

To bed at 12:31am

-=-

Wednesday September 13, 1978

Donald Best got a lift with me and Jim this morning. He says the appointment of the Queen Mother as Lord Warden of the Cinque Ports is a ridiculous idea, and that Edward Heath, a Kentish man, with naval associations, would have been a more appropriate appointment. I cannot disagree more. The dear old Queen Mother will carry out the ceremonial like no one else. Donald is always very sarcastic about the Royal Family.

At 1pm I met Dave near the Poly and we walked across town to the Hofbräuhaus, where some of the lads from his course were assembled. It is a dark, smoke~filled cavern, full of people eating pork pies and mushy peas. We sat on the heavy trestle tables supping soapy ale from large jugs, and then it happened. Yes, on came the stripper. Yes, I know you are shocked and horrified, nay stunned, by this gross act of sexual perversion on my part, but that's what dissipated youngsters are doing these days. She wasn't much good and her dancing was moderate but what can you expect for 10p each? I will never listen to T-Connection again without breaking out into a cold sweat...... not.


-=-

Tuesday September 12, 1978

Sunny day. Busy at the YP. Howled with laughter this morning when Michael Brown, the Religious affairs correspondent, phoned me from Huddersfield to tell me he thinks the new Pope (John Paul I) looks very much like Peter Sellers. A preposterous remark, or so I thought, but on inspecting the photo files I see the resemblance is remarkable.

I can see that before very long I'm going to become quite sick of our grinning, circus-like performer of a pontiff.

Other news: The Queen Mother is to become the next Lord Warden of the Cinque Ports. She'll become the first woman to hold the office, an ancient one, whch dates back to the time of King Harold. Previous Lord Wardens include Churchill and Sir Robert Menzies. Just what the job entails escapes me. I'm sure it will be nothing strenuous.

A photo of Lynn and Dave appeared in the EP. I'm going to miss Lynn, you know. Just look at the photo and that brilliant, glowing smile.

I met Jacq at lunchtime and we ate like horses in the park instead of our usual damp luncheon at the Ostlers. She says she may be 'buggering off' from Leeds. _________________.

Dave G and I met later near the Polytechnic and went for a drink at the Fenton, where the National Front and homosexual intellectuals gather to discuss tactics. He's having a riot in Leeds and last night ended up in the Original Oak with a sun~tanned lady just back from a holiday in Ibiza.

-=-

Friday August 4, 1978

New Moon 02:01

Queen Elizabeth The Queen Mother is 78 today. I do believe that in six years time she will be the longest lived Queen Consort. Queen Mary was 85, and Queen Alexandra was 80. No Queen of these Isles has lived longer.

Tonight Dave L came up at 8:30 and we went to meet Jacq at the Y.W.C.A and then went over the road to the George, opposite the (Leeds General) Infirmary. It was after 9 before we had a drink and so the evening was slipping quickly by. Dave quite liked the George and he noticed that most of the customers looked like hospital staff. He laughed that it 's an ideal spot to have a heart attack or bout of botulism.

(Botulism is something one gets from eating tins of John West salmon. "It's the cans that John West reject that don't kill you" &c. Dave is laying on a salmon sandwich supper at his party and intends displaying the serial number of the can on each sandwich. My God, aren't we a sick bunch?)

I was home at 11:30 and watched a bit of television. I've been grinning to myself all day because Jeremy Thorpe and three others have been arrested on charges of conspiring to murder Norman Scott between 1968 and 1977. That's buggered the Liberal party once and for all. Mr Steel definitely won't be wanting an election in October. The person I feel sorry for is poor Marion.

--

Friday September 23, 1977

Eileen showed me an article in that glorious relic 'Woman's Own' which I found hilarious. It states that the Royal Family is becoming far too large, the biggest one in fact since Victoria's day. Laugh at the thought that by the year 2000 the south of England will be overrun by minute Queen Mothers, devouring and devastating crops and making a general nuisance of themselves. _______.

Royal Family: too large.

Burdened with a ghastly hangover today. I'm home completely shattered at the usual hour and spend the time until 9 o'clock readying myself for Angela (Singer's) party. Jacqui phoned at 9.15 and by 10.15 we were teamed up outside the Yorkshire Post and we made our way to Headingley.

I loathe going to parties stone cold sober, but I soon remedied that. It was rewarding watching bleary eyed journalists eyeing up Jacqui and Joy. Peter Fearon attempted to woo Joy with his Fleet Street routine which failed brilliantly. She then went off to dance with a Daily Express man. I became quite drunk.

Carol Johnson and Roger Ratcliffe arrived at the same time, but not together. The girls thoroughly enjoyed themselves and were very sociable. Did I do a tango with Brenda Rankin? I hope not.

Joy brought me home and I foolishly had them in for coffee, giggles and screams, slamming doors and other loud robust noises. Naturally, Mama was awakened by the commotion but made no assault on us downstairs, luckily. They set off back for the depths of Roundhay at some unbelievable hour and I departed to my chambers for a few hours shut-eye. A very pleasant party. Angela Singer deserves to be the first woman editor of a national newspaper.

-=-

Thursday August 4, 1977

The great Queen Mum is 77 today. Saw the usual TV news of the crowd singing "Happy Birthday to You" outside Clarence House. Marvellous she is.

The Queen Mum.

A good night out in Baildon with Martyn and Tony. All in high spirits. The females in the pub were numerous. We named a few of them after famous celebrities of similar appearance. One in the corner was Liz Taylor, Janette Scott was drinking something like lemonade, and a sexy young thing near the juke box who brushed past me several times was Brigitte Bardot.

Tony was out with Denise last night. He stayed the night at Naomi's. He beamed all evening like a young boy. __________. Martyn is still smoking Tony's cigarettes. He's getting through 40 a day but hasn't bought a packet yet. (Just a joke). Home at about 11. A bit pissed.

-=-

Monday May 23, 1977

Dull, overcast day. The YP wasn't in any way exciting and so I won't bother you with any of the miserable details.

At tea time I see Mum and Dad for the first time since Saturday morning. She went to Molly & Jim's last night to meet Hugh. They are full of tales of JPH and go into raptures about his overnight stay at Pine Tops on Saturday night.

Just watch soddin' TV in the evening. Feature film 'One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich' based on the book by Solzenhitsyn - and not a very pleasant day for Ivan either. All it was really was some poor buggers digging holes in sub zero temperatures and eating fish heads and rabbit entrails.

The Prince of Wales was invested with the Order of the Thistle in Edinburgh this morning and I suspect that the Queen and the Queen Mother won't be feeling all that happy because BOTH their detectives, Sir Edward Perkins, KCVO and Chief Supt Sumner, have dropped dead on the Scottish visit over the weekend. A bit too much of a coincidence I fear.

Lynn is enjoying things at the Hare & Hounds, but I'm determined to avoid the place. It's been three weeks now and I haven't missed it, or any of it's inmates. A complete change was what I needed and I am enjoying it thoroughly.

-==-

Wednesday August 4, 1976

Get a postcard from Lynne M in Wales. It's a place I've never had any desire to visit really. I do suppose it has its nice parts - just like most boring places do if you look hard enough. The Welsh people don't do a lot for me either. Harry Secombe and Richard Burton are supposedly Welsh. The pubs don't open at weekends, or on Monday or Tuesday, or when the month has "R" in it. So, it puts me right off. See Wales, and die. I hope Lynne likes it anyway.

The good old Queen Mother is 76 today. I cannot help thinking about what Edith's opinion is of her. Does the Queen Mother really 'fancy herself' ? I don't know, but I'll tell you this - if anybody deserves to fancy herself it's the Queen Mum. 53 years of service to the Crown as a member of the Royal Family. If the adoration of eight billion people hasn't turned HM's head, then she wouldn't be bloody normal. Goodnight.

-==-

Sunday August 1, 1976

7th after Trinity. Arise at quite a decent hour and make my way to the bathroom. The stench of vomit outside Karl's bedroom is revolting, but after further investigations I see he is the only casualty.

Peter says CB and Roger appear to have had a good time in the lounge and Chris tells that they (CB & Roger) look to have been 'up to things'______________________.

Denise and I take a vaccuum cleaner each and start on the downstairs rooms. Even Roger had a duster in his hand. Lynne was most uncommunicative and surly much to the amusement of CB who kept grinning at me across the lounge. By 11.30 we've done all we can and Chris takes Romeo & Juliet home (that's Christine & Roger by the way).

Denise, Peter, Lynne and I sit in the dining room chatting until Mr & Mrs Mather get in at 12. I can see Mr M casting his gaze around the premises looking for cases of vandalism. I shudder when I see him mounting the stairs because I know just what a dreadful smell will assail his nostrils when he reaches the top.

At12.30 - Lynne who is all packed ready for her holiday - brings me home.We kiss and part until Saturday night. Have lunch with Mum, Dad, Sue & Peter and then spend a couple of hours with the Blackwells. We talk about Vic Feather, the Duchess of Windsor, the Queen and Queen Mother and other sundries. Edith had some unsavory comments to make about the old duchess and she says that the Queen Mother 'fancies herself'.

Back home I watch TV all night with Mum & Dad. A good programme about the history of the BBC with bits of programmes all bunged together. After Dad goes to work Mum and I watched a sad, morbid film with Elizabeth Taylor and Montgomery Clift. Don't get me wrong, Elizabeth and Montgomery didn't watch the film with us - they were in it.

-==-

Monday August 4, 1975

Holiday in Scotland and Irish Republic. A beautiful day again. See in the paper that the temperature in Roundhay Park (Leeds) yesterday reached 90 degrees farenheit, and if that isn't some kind of miracle I don't know what is.

A historic day indeed. Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth The Queen Mother is 75 years-old today, and I'm sure she'll manage to give us 10 or 15 years more brilliant service in the future. Saw on the 6 o'clock news a sizeable crowd sing 'Happy Birthday, Dear Mother' to her outside Clarence House, and I only hope Willie Hamilton was watching. People like him must really feel as though they are banging their heads against a brick wall on days like this. The Queen is throwing a party at the palace this evening and all the Royal Family are attending except the Prince of Wales, who is on a fishing holiday in Iceland.

Dirty little (news)papers like the Sun are known to say that when it's cold over here the Royal Family board planes for sweltering regions on the equator. But here we are at boiling point in Britain, and Charles has boarded a plane and fled to the Arctic!

A feature in the EP says the Queen Mother is the first Scottish-born Queen of England. I am damn sure that one of the Plantagenets took a bride from over the border, and just for the record, the Queen Mother is a Hertfordshire lass! Sometimes I wonder just where we dig up our journalists.

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Tuesday May 13, 1975

Weird day. Cold, sunny, thundery, and then quite warm. I couldn't really fathom what it wanted to do to us at all. However, the sun shone at 4.30 when I went for my bus which is all that matters really because it is the only time of day when I'm exposed to the elements.

Auntie Mabel went into hospital today in order that a surgeon could examine her breast. It may be a cyst, but one never knows, what with breast cancer on the increase. Auntie is a reasonably healthy woman and at 56 she stands every chance of making a brilliant recovery. Poor Marlene will worry though, because she is totally devoted to her mother.

Do nothing this evening other than look in at the television which is a good night tonight. See 'Edward VII' of course and once more revel in the delights of Annette Crosbie's Queen Victoria. Also see a programme on the war years in the north of England. Horrible scenes of devastation in Sheffield and Hull and moving film of visits by King George VI and Queen Elizabeth to the bombed areas. Dad was quite choked because he was eleven when the VE Day celebrations were going on, and all that ancient, crackly old film brought the memories flooding back to him.

I'd like to write more but the difficulty in sharing a bedroom with ones younger brother is that they sometimes feel awkward and tired even though it's only 11.30pm. So before he climbs from 'neath his sheets and kills me I'd better conclude this entry and retire. Goodnight everyone, and God Bless.

-==-

Monday May 12, 1975

It is 38 years tolday since the Queen Mother was crowned Queen Consort of England in Westminster Abbey. The poor old chap around whom the service was centred was taken from us some 23 years ago, but I am sure that the Royal Family will be thinking about him today.

A wet and nasty day really. Stay inside the YP until it is absolutely necessary for me to go out at 4.30 for my bus, and get quite a soaking making my way home.

Nothing of great interest is in the news today. Just the same old Common Market Referendum trash and more propaganda about Mr Wedgwood Benn. One MP said the other day that Mr Benn would be Prime Minister before Christmas, and I don't think anyone could ask for a worse Christmas present. The very thought of Britain's answer to Hitler and Mussolini rolled into one being installed at No 10, Downing Street, is something I really don't want to dwell on.

Kathleen is back tomorrow and that is something else I don't wish to spend a lot of time thinking about, because life is hectic and unnecessarily 'panicky' when she is in the office.

Christine still dominates my thoughts. That girl doesn't know just how much I love her, although she always gives me a beautiful smile and calls me 'biased' when I attempt to talk her out of her infatuation for Gary taking over altogether. Such a tease she is really. However, she is quite aware of the fact that I will never give in. Christine Mary Dacre Braithwaite won't be rid of me until I am dead and buried.

The Royal visit to Japan is just about over and it seems to have been a tremendous success. The Queen's looked lovely all week - fashionable too - and no doubt we can expect a sizeable trade agreement with the Japanese shortly. The monarchy certainly pulls in the needed cash from abroad.

-==-

Saturday April 26, 1975

Dad decorating the dining room aroused me from my slumbers at 1pm. Mum came in from the hairdressers and we had lunch immediately. Susan rang Peter to question him about last night and I couldn't help thinking how obnoxious and yak it would be to know a female would be ringing to get all the gruesome details off you the morning after. Let's hope I'll never be in that state.

Saw Maura and Marian last night, and Sandy Lawson. Indeed, it was my night for women. The most enjoyable __at Wikis for ages.

I'm glad I've been able to catch up at last with the diary. It's now about 6.30pm on April 26, so order is once again restored.

A beautiful day really. Cannot understand our weather. One week it snows, and the next week we are struck by a heatwave.

For 52 years the Queen Mother has been a member of our Royal Family. This day in 1923 the Duke of York married Lady Elizabeth Bowes Lyon and all's been well since. A true milestone in the history of Great Britain.

To the Hare at 8.30 and the gang go to Addingham on a minor pub-crawl. These are getting more regular as of late. Have a laugh with Christine White and Stuart (Newton), who are tremendous fun. Back to Pine Tops to see 'The Third Man'. A good film which always makes me think of Dad. He likes it so much.

--==--

Monday April 14, 1975

Not a perfect day by any means. Rang Christine at 4.30 and she told me that it was all patched up with Gary, and so I'm an outcast through and through. She didn't say I was an outcast through and through - she doesn't really have to. DON'T I KNOW IT, MATE!! A rotten let-down for my ego. Throwing yourself at a girl only to be told you don't stand a chance. Sad really. Well, what else can I expect at the grand old age of 20? I'm getting past the attractive stage.

The dear old Queen Mother flew off to Persia today for a peaceful, and no doubt warm holiday with the Shah. Dad drew the conclusion that Uncle Harold wants some cheap oil - a typical cynical view, but it's a known fact that the old Queen is a close buddy of the Shah, who nips over to Windsor often enough on private visits of his own. Must be nice to be nearly 75 and perfectly active. 'Go it old Girl!' applies just as much to the Queen Mum as it did to Queen Victoria. We want her to go on for years.

Still battling on with 'George VI'. He's just been created Duke of York in the chapter I'm on with, and it certainly makes one wonder just how many years it will be before Prince Andrew is bestowed with the same honours.

David calls in at 7.15 with an LP. He takes a few more records to tape, and spends about 10 minutes laughing and fooling with Lynn. That boy just ripples wit humour - always so full of vitality too. Must be marvellous. I'm going to Worcester on Apr 21 after all, probably until the 25th - which is the following Friday. It'll be fantastic seeing Barbara again, who is such a gorgeous character. Bed at 11.30 after reading in the lounge.

-==-

Thursday March 27, 1975

Maundy Thursday. Yet another bloody busy day. Chaos and Hell Fire all rolled into one. Curious about something on the Court page of the Daily Telegraph. The Queen, Queen Mother and Princess Anne yesterday attended a memorial service for Her Majesty's cousin, Rev the Hon Andrew Elphinstone. No where have I seen anything to the effect that he has actually died. So, being highly curious I rang the Daily Telegraph to be informed that he had passed away on or about March 21. Obviously such information is of little interest to sane people, but it means a lot to me.

Sarah was in a good mood for a change and leapt to my aid when I had written a letter to Christine only to discover I had no postage stamps. She suggested I route around in the waste paper basket to salvage a respectable looking unfranked stamp to glue onto my epistle. And to think her Papa is the head postmaster at York.

In my letter to Christine I woffled on for ages about nothing. Well, when I say nothing I mean woffling on about Gary's surname - Walters. Being absolutely insane I connect Gary with Lucy Walters, the mistress of King Charles II, by making out he was her grandson.

Home at 5.15, my usual hour of late, and sit in front of the tv making little attempt to prepare for my meeting with Helen at the Hare. Both John and Papa refused to take me to the pub, so I go by bus, arriving at about 8.45. Sit with Helen, and Naomi (who John thought wasn't going out) brought us home at kicking out time.

I departed for bed after being quizzed as to what I'd been doing out with Naomi.

-==-

Monday January 20, 1975

Back to work.

Sarah, my former heartthrob, is in a miserable state. Her latest boyfriend has been done by the Lancashire Police for driving without due care and attention. The poor chap was breathylised.

That repulsive man William Hamilton, MP was on the BBC this evening saying all sorts of obnoxious things about the Royal Family. He hates Princess Margaret so much to the extent that he sounds unstable.He made several comments about the Queen Mother being a scheming, shrewd business woman, and not the friendly, charming creature she appears to be. The Queen, according to the learned gentleman, is out of touch, and he had the cheek to stand before TV cameras and say that monarchy and pageantry and completely detached from one another. Insane, horribly insane.

--==-

Saturday January 11, 1975

Lynn wakes me at my usual Saturday hour. Have a coffee and glance at the Daily Mail which never contains anything worth reading. Fail to see why they bother to publish the soddin' thing. They'd do everybody a favour if they packed up and cleared off to Uganda.

Nothing tremendous happens at the office and come home on the 33 bus. John is just climbing out of bed, the lucky devil, but the extra half day in bed doesn't seen to have done him any good at all. I really do think that one can have too much sleep.
The reception room, or foyer, at the YP harbours a pleasant sight at the moment. A collection of Sir Cecil Beaton's works displayed for all to see. I especially like the pictures of Lady Diana Cooper (dressed a s nun of all things) and of Harold Pinter. The Royal photos are all very nice, but we've seen them all before. His work of genius is one (photo) of the Queen Mother taken at Buckingham Palace in 1938 - the light and shading as it falls on her dress is a sight to behold.

Lunch with John, Mama and Papa. Dash upstairs when Mum says she wants some help with the housework, and Perry Como moaning away in the background isn't very encourging. After a few minutes John and I disappear on a walk around Tranmere and surrounding areas. After giving our approval to the new houses we come back refreshed. I re-read 'I Will Repay' by Baroness Orczy, the third time round and still enthralling.

Go out with Chris, Christine B, and Dave Knowles's old fiance, Maura, a pretty little thing with curly dark hair and oval face - truely gorgeous. Chris and Christine are more than pals now, and I'm left to entertain Maura. The four of us go to Wikis until 2, where we dance and jive about to our hearts content. A quiet night really, but we didn't notice. Laughed ourselves stupid. Back to Pine Tops for coffee where Lynn, Dave, Sue and Peter are recovering after a large meal in Leeds where they were refused entry into Cinderellas and the Pentagon, &c. John and Peter Mather had been to 'Wheels' at Seacroft and by all accounts it's a smart joint.

-=-

Sunday November 24, 1974

Last after Trinity. Albert Wilson born 1895. Sleep until nearly 1 o'clock. A rotten day. Mum and Dad aren't on the best of terms and they're arguing all the time over dinner. The bloody wind doesn't help with tempers either - nothing worse than wind for fraying the patience of decent human beings.

See the beginning of the Royal Variety Performance. The arrival of the Queen Mother was one of the most heart-rending spectacles I've seen in a long time. The regal bearing that HM commands should go down as one of the wonders of the world. Even Chris remarked how fantastic she was.

Chris and Carol collect John and I at 8.30 and we go to the Dyneley Arms collecting Denny on the way. It's the first time I've visited the place since its £30,000 facelift, and although the structural alterations are perfect, the atmosphere within is still non-existent. Denny looks nice - sexy. Move on to the Lawnswood Arms where Louise Harris works. Don't like the place at all, and don't see Louise either. Back to Arthington in pouring rain where we devour fish and chips in Denny's lounge. We're going to the Benton Xmas dance together on Dec 19.

-==-

Saturday June 15, 1974

Another scorching day. Sheila promised to wake us at 7, but I was awake totally unaided, and go downstairs thinking the dear thing is sleeping peacefully, but no she is in the kitchen doing wonderful things with a frying pan and several sausages. What a saint she is!

We leave at about 8 and are in London for 9. Believe it or not I cannot find the palace, and have to ask a native the directions. John is greatly amused by my lack of patience. The sun is very brilliant and when the Queen, Duke of Edinburgh and Duke of Kent leave for Horse Guards it is quite stifling. (Excuse the scrawl, but I cannot write with biro. I've mislaid my fountain pen.) The Queen looks very miserable and pale and not at all pleasant, though the Queen Mother is the perfect example of radiance and beauty. Outside the palace until 1. Due to the heat we go to a pub in Piccadilly - a typical London tavern. Nip down to Knightsbridge and spend a few hours in Harrods before returning to Windsor by coach.

Go to the Safari Park till 11.15. Bed on return after playing with Hugo.

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