Monday September 19, 1977

Lynn told me this morning that she and David bought an engagement ring on Saturday. _______. She looks very happy now. Thank God her future is secure.

Mum says that Derek and Jennifer's baby born on Sept 1 or 2nd  is to be called Paul Justin. Just thought I'd let you know in case Mr P.J. Myers is the current prime minister.

Starving peasants ....

The (national) bread strike finished tonight leaving many peasants dead or dying throughout the starving kingdom, not. No one would have guessed that a bakery strike was on at all. The news media have blown it out of proportion. One would think we were in 18th century France the way they've gone on. "Ma'am, the peasants are starving. They want bread." "Oh let them eat cream crackers".

What do you think about Margaret Thatcher's proposal for a referendum on trade unions should they ever get a future Conservative government over a barrel?  I'm not sure really. I was opposed to the 1975 EEC referendum, but cast my vote all the same. Reducing the authority of the Houses of Parliament can only result from such action, but then the destruction of parliament as we know it is on the cards anyway.

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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 June 5, 1975

Clammy day. Rains on my way down the lane at 8am, and is scorching hot on my return at 5.15. Bloody British weather.

It's Referendum Day I know, but I'm sick to the back teeth of hearing about it.

Busy day at the YP. Mrs Johnson, who is now separated from Mick, leaves early 'full of pneumonia' or something. We'll all go down with it in the office.

Home at 5.30 for tea. Believe now that I have no choice other than to vote 'yes' in the referendum. I find the very thought of doing so distasteful, but if I do not do so, the weight of an overall 'no' vote would be on my conscience for the rest of my days.

John and I go vote 'yes' at 8.30. We then go to the Hare where Gillian, Naomi, even CB and Gary are to be found. We also call in at the Fox & Hounds for a quick one at about 9.30. Back to the Hare I arrange to meet CB therein on the morrow. It's now two months to the very day since I told her how I feel about her, and I still feel exactly the same. Gary must go.

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Tuesday June 3, 1975

One of the most hideous days of the year. Rain, rain, and even more rain. I went to the YP wrapped in two woollen pullovers as a protective shield against the ridiculously cold weather. Snowing in June!

Just think, tomorrow may be the last day that Britain is a member of the EEC. What a tragedy that would be if it were true. Although I do not agree with the idea of referenda and all they entail, I'm nearly persuaded to go out and use my vote. We should stay in the Common Market, but I don't like the way the people have been asked to decide. A General Election on the subject should have been offered to us - the only democratic process in Britain. We'll be one step down the ladder to hopelessness if Britain chucks herself out of Europe. Things have changed since Lord Salisbury went on about 'splendid isolation' in the 1890s.

Quite a busy day really. I sat attempting to fathom something out this afternoon. What is the difference between a step-brother and a half-brother? Does such a thing as a 'half-brother' exist at all? This line of thought began when I dug something out of the files on Martin Parsons, the step-brother of Ld. Snowdon. Ooh, and did you know that Lord Snowdon has a half-brother, Peregrine Thomas Owen Llewellyn Armstrong-Jones, who was born Nov 15, 1960? Remarkable really considering that Snowdon is 44 now. Having a brother 30 years younger than oneself cannot be a pleasant thing at all really.

Home at 5.30 for dinner consisting of roast lamb & roast potatoes. Lamb is always greasy and horrible, but the others seem to like it.

John is still minus employment but Mum may have found him a job at Moon's, her place of employment. I hope and pray he finds something soon. It's quite impossible to find anything in this economic climate.

See 'Edward VII' which is up to its brilliant standard.
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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.

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Monday May 5, 1975

Holiday in Scotland. I always loathe and despise Mondays. Why this is so I fail to understand. Probably my devotion to the Yorkshire Post and the prospect of eight hours solid work ahead of me has something to do with this.

Kathleen is on holiday and so I'm left with Saturday's EP to deal with, and this doesn't cheer me up. This paper is riddled with trash. and so after I've glanced through it and disposed of it, I snatch a look at todays nationals. Nothing of interest other than the Queen and Duke of Edinburgh's state visit to Hong Kong, and endless tosh on the Common Market issue. I really am becoming worried about the sanity of our future Communist Prime Minister, Mr Wedgwood Benn, alias the 2nd Viscount Stansgate. He really is a left-wing creep. I for one will book a one-way ticket to New Zealand on the morning he moves into No 10, Downing Street. Horrific he really is.

See TV all evening and throw myself into Lady Randolph Churchill before hitting the sack.

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Thursday April 10, 1975

Excuse me, please, but I'm in an awkward position for writing at the moment. Yes, I'm propped up in bed and it's only 9.30pm. No, I'm not ill, or anything. I just fancied the idea of an early night. Besides, this afternoon, I laid hands on a scruffy looking copy of 'King George VI: His Life and Reign' by John Wheeler-Bennett. Yes, you're quite right, I did read it years ago, but I always think it pays off to re-read something a few years later in order to fully understand and appreciate what was actually penned.

So here I am. What else can I tell you? Oh yes, more snow today, and in the world of politics, our good friend the Prime Minister has announced that the EEC referendum will take place on June 5. NOT THAT I WILL HAVE ANYTHING TO DO WITH IT!! No, Sir, Uncle Harold and his Cabinet will have a long wait if they expect to see my little cross on the bottom of the nasty little ballot paper. A very long wait indeed.

Anyway, George VI is awaiting my attention, and so I'' say goodnight.

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Tuesday March 18, 1975

Quite a day of excitement really. That treasured relic of the Parliamentary system, namely Uncle Harold, announced today that the Labour government is in favour of our nation remaining a member of the Common Market. I can't really see why he made such a fuss about it in the first place. The one good thing which the late Mr Heath did was to obtain our membership of the E.E.C. and at the time I thought it was most childish of Uncle Harold to say he'd bring us out. Anyway, the so-called referendum will decide categorically what we're going to do - but if both Conservative and Labour parties think we should stay in, I fail to grasp why we have been consulted at all. I'm intending ignoring the referendum when it comes. Futile things like this should be of no concern to the general public at all. It's a bloody disgrace really.

Snowed again today. Weird weather. Went for a jog around Leeds at lunchtime. Consumed a couple of sandwiches in Park Square and made several useless attempts to lay hands on a copy of 'Private Eye'.

The editor ran around the library in a flap this morning shouting 'Sheila Viscountess Devonport' in a hurried voice at irregular intervals. No news cuttings were to be found on the dear, noble lady, but I did lay hands on a photo, dated 1952. 'Devonport. Sheila Viscountess D-E-V-O-N-P-O-R-T. Lady S-H-E-I-L-A Devonport. She's a viscountess. A peeress. L-A-D-Y S-H-E-I-L-A-D-E-V-O-N-P-O-R-T'. OK, we get the message. We enquire exactly what's happened to the peeress to cause such a panic. He says she's been kidnapped by the Black Panther, and leaves the library laughing hideously. Clearly not a devotee of the aristocracy. We later discover that she's only been forced out of her home in the early hours of the morning, and that no harm has befallen her at all. No doubt you're overjoyed on hearing this.

The Duchess of Kent was in Leeds today on university business.

See a Cary Grant and Doris Day film on BBC2 and stagger to bed at about 11 with P.G. Wodehouse, after listening to Uncle Harold talking a load of old rubbish on the late night news. It's really terrible the way he's trying to hoodwink everyone over this referendum nonsense.

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Thursday January 23, 1975

Nothing much to report today. See 'Top of the Pops' on TV this evening, and it's quite amazing how sober it's all becoming. Pop is on the decline.

Still deep into 'Edward VII'. I realise now that poor King Edward was only lecherous because Queen Victoria refused him any position or decent job. Sixty years is a long time to wait for a responsible position in 'the family business.'

This referendum nonsense is getting completely out of hand. The Labour government is making a serious mistake if it thinks that the British people want to make a choice for themselves. Why bother having a Houses of Parliament if the MPs are going to give all decisions over to us. The ordinary man in the street knows sod all about the Common Market, but one thing is certain, it takes no Sir Christopher Soames to realise the ridiculousness in withdrawing our membership when it took all those years and all that money to get us in. I for one do not intend exercising my so-called right to vote when the time comes.

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