Tuesday November 1, 1977

I am writing this, dear reader, by candle light. Those nice electricity supply people are asking for more money than the miserable 10 per cent offered by Mr Callaghan, and because he's taking his time giving them the cash, they are in return giving us a dose of the old black-out treatment. I bet it's bringing back lovely memories for Ted Heath and his enfeebled colleagues.

Anne: Duchess of Sussex?

Susan is sat sewing by flickering candlelight; Lynn is in bed reading by torch-light to the sound of Radio Luxembourg (which, thank God, is beyond the scheming clutches of the ghastly power workers). I only hope that for the sake of children throughout the land the electricity will remain off on Nov 4 and Nov 5 so that that Mischief Night and Bonfire Night will be well remembered.

The Daily Express today carried a story riddled with errors on the subject of royal births. Mistake one was that Princess Anne was born at Buckingham Palace, when in fact her birth took place at Clarence House; mistake 2, was that the presence of the Home Secretary at the birth of a royal baby was only dispensed with at the birth of Prince Edward in 1964 - when in fact King George VI scrapped this custom in Oct 1948 just before the Prince of Wales was born. I persuaded Sarah to phone the Buckingham Palace press office to confirm this, which she did, and she was told that 'His Majesty found the whole business archaic'.

We have just been discussing (still by candlelight, at 9.20pm) the possibility of the 6th person in the line of succession (to the throne) being a 'Master Phillips' and both Mum and I don't like the idea one bit. We decided that Princess Anne should be created a duchess, so that the infant cane come into the world as a marquess or earl, but nobody in 1977 takes much notice of reactionary swines like what we are.

The lights came on as if by magic at 9.55 and the television disrupted our peerage chatter.Dad was relieved because our deliberating as to whether Princess Anne is to be Duchess of Sussex or not is of no interest to him.


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Saturday October 23, 1976

Don't get out of bed until 1.30pm on Saturday afternoon. Mr & Mrs Mather are decorating the lounge. After lunch Lynne and I go shopping to Scarbrough. I get a pair of black trousers and a red shirt with 'San Francisco Giants' inscribed all over it. A cold, dismal day, but we have a good laugh. Back in Thornton Dale by 6 o'clock and call at one of the pubs in the village for a pre-dinner drink.

At 9 o'clock we set off to Brummel's in York. Arrive after 11 and remain until 2am. Had a great time. The music really is 'our sort'. The place was packed to begin with but we soon found a vacant space. Lynne and I merged our resources and managed to come away with a few bob for the coming week. I only consumed three or four pints of lager all night and on our drive back to Thornton-le-Dale [nearly 30 miles]we were serenaded by fantastic music on Radio Luxembourg. Made cheese on toast at 3am and woke Mrs Mather in the process but didn't suffer anything quite as traumatic as what would have befallen us if Mama had been in Mrs Mather's shoes, or perhaps bed. Bed at 3.30.

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Wednesday October 16, 1974

Cold and miserable all day. Really a typical autumn. My half-day. Meet Lynne outside the YP at a bit past 12. Because of the rain we go to Whitelocks, where we have one drink and discuss what we want to do for the rest of the afternoon. Don't fancy walking through Leeds in the drizzle, and she suggests we go home to Bramhope, for lunch, &c.

Look around the Art Gallery whilst waiting for the bus, and eventually arrive at Lynne's at 2. We sit cosily on her sumptuous sofa, doing romantic things like eating beans on toast, and afterwards the passion becomes too great for us and we go wild watching a repeat of the 'Forsyte Saga' on the BBC until 4. We leave at 4.30. She goes to Leeds to have tea with her Papa, who is general manager of Schofield's (just thought I'd drop that morsel of information in). I get several buses and eventually roll in at 6. See 'Carry On Screaming' till 8 and feel generally bored. John goes out as usual, and so too do Mum and Dad. Dave rings Lynn, Peter calls on Susan - so in one way or another we are all paired off now. Haven't seen or heard of Denny since Saturday.

Dustmen who went on strike in Nottingham after being called 'idiots' by a local councillor, have gone back to work after the young man in question made a public apology. (Just heard that morsel on Radio Luxembourg and thought I'd slip it in).

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Wednesday July 31, 1974

Bored all day. Sleep on the bus coming from the YP and collapse over the tea table, listless and over-heated at about 6.

Dearest Denny rings after 7 and we almost decide to go out tomorrow night, but decide to wait until the time comes to see how we feel. Have a bath at 9 listening to the American 'Top 20' on Radio Luxembourg - some of the records were quite good, but otherwise it was mediocre.

Sit watching tv and drinking martini with Lynn. An interview with Glenda Jackson. Bed before 12. Sit reading Queen Mary (which was due back on July 25), and almost doze to sleep. Auntie Eddy (Jadwega) rings at 12.30 in a panic about Uncle Bert's missing birth certificate. She rings me because I am the family archivist, and expert on births, marriages and deaths. I say the certificate was last seen in the possession of Grandad, who died in September, so I suppose Grandma has it. Evidently, the authorities refuse to give Eddy a passport until she becomes a naturalised Englishwoman. I promise to get a copy of the birth certificate from Leeds or wherever the Bramley records for the 1920s are kept. Bed and sleep after 1.


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