Friday February 3, 1978

Out of bed at the crack of dawn and head for the deep south. It was a freezing cold day and I couldn't be bothered to get out of the coach at Leicester and instead I endured the boring conversation of a guy who went to school with one of the Gordon Giltrap Band. Big bloody deal. Arrived at Victoria at 1:00 and met Jacqui. She has a shorter hair cut.

Jacqui.

We had a few drinks in Victoria and then went to St Catherine's House. A ghastly task. Seven million John Wilsons were born  in the Yorkshire area in March, 1853. A daunting experience, and after an hour I was thoroughly defeated. It must be bliss to have a surname like Jacq's. Discovered very little but found that a John Wilson had married a Bella Fawbert in the North Bierley area in 1874. Her death in March, 1926 says she's Rella.

We went on to the flat where I demolished half a loaf with ease. Chrissy was in but Jan was at the doctors. The poor thing picked up Red flu in Austria last week.

At 7:30 Jacq's Mum's, Trixie, and brother, Peter, came round and we went for a drink to a pub called the John Baird. Trixie knocks back pints like no tomorrow. However, she's remarkably flash and 'Vogue-like' with Christian Dior shoes and posh hair. Pete has grown a beard. Trixie jokes and says he's quiet because he's in love with a bird called Alice. Poor bugger.

From the (John) Baird we went to a Greek restaurant and noshed our heads off - all at Trixie's expense. Pete went off to work at 10 and the three of us went to the Clissold until closing time.

Jacq passed her driving test yesterday - her 23rd birthday - and she drove us back to the flat in Trixie's mini which is to be exchanged tomorrow for a Fiat X19, whatever that may be.

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Wednesday June 22, 1977

Phoned Carole and talked about very little. Not fraternising with her until next week and I can't say I'm bothered. Not exactly like Anthony and Cleopatra are we?

Tony and Cleo.

The poor dear Queen is in Wales on her jubilee tour of that boring pin-prick of a principality.

John and JPH came at tea time and we all sat on the lawn. He (JPH that is) has picked up quite a few new tricks and now sings every time his grandpapa rattles his key ring.

Lynn and David went to Salvo's (that's young David, not old David). They came home half sozzled with tales of wonderment about the size of the pizzas consumed. I became quite hungry at the thought of it.

My great-grandmother Rella Wilson was born 122 years ago today and my grandmother, Ruth Ellen Rhodes died 18 years ago today.

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Monday January 31, 1977

Marita 22. Don't alight from 'neath the sheets until a late hour this morning. A wet, miserable day. Mummy is still indisposed with influenza and is confined to her chambers. Papa doesn't look much better.

Dorothy's pub, the White Horse

Go see Lynne at the Red Lion at 1.30 and have a couple of drinks. She's in two minds about Stephanie's proposition and somehow I don't think the Divine Vera approves. Dispose of the sweet thing by 2.30 and then go to Cousin Dorothy's pub, the White Horse. She entertains me until 5 o'clock discussing the Wilson family. She says my great-grandmother, Rella Wilson, had red hair, couldn't read or write, was a very good cook. Her Piccalilli was second to none. She (Rella) was delighted that Dorothy went to grammar school (which she did circa 1923). Dorothy is very straight-forward and seems severe in a daft sort of way. She frightened the living daylights out of me at first. Had an interesting time and promise to keep her informed.

Go to John and Maria's and stay until 9pm. Baby is better but Maria is feeling off it now. Watch 'Panorama'. It looks at the Queen's reign - very good.  John was interested but Maria kept hurling abuse at the TV.

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