Monday March 1, 1976

St David's Day. Quite a busy day at work without Kathleen or Carol J. Arrange with Sarah for Mum to visit Delia tonight to discuss floral arrangements for the wedding.

See in 'The Times' that Georgiana Russell, an old girlfriend of the Prince of Wales is joining the ranks of the betrothed. The prince really should start thinking about finding a wife because all the elegible young ladies are falling. The likes of Rosie Clifton and Lady Henrietta FitzRoy and many more. Jane Wellesley won't do at all, and Angela Nevill is just about the only dish on the hot-plate.

Home at 5. Dad shows me a report from his accountant about the Henry Jenkins pub. He's been advised to offer £30,000 for it. They're going over tomorrow to sort things out and I wish them all the luck.

Go to the Yorkshire Rose with Mum & Dad and they book Lynn's party for Saturday for definate. We then go up to West End Lane to Sarah's and Mum does some arranging with Delia whilst Lucy the dog mauls me and Dad. Leave at about 8.30 - 9 o'clock.

Back at home Carole rings. We arrange to meet for tea at our place tomorrow. I see a clapped out old film on the BBC and watch the late night news before going off to bed at about midnight.

Well, March is upon us once more and I would never have imagined that this month could hold so many events of historic consequence.

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Wednesday September 24, 1975

Two years ago at about this time we all drew the conclusion that our beloved Prince of Wales would make Miss Amelia Rose Clifton his princess. Rosie Clifton, however, must have different intentions, because after finishing with the prince at Balmoral she tagged herself along with old Prince Michael of Kent. This romance too proved useless because earlier this year she married the younger brother of millionaire Lord Vestey and became the Hon Mrs Mark Vestey.

The horror story circulating Fleet Street at the moment is that His Royal Highness the Prince of Wales is attached to MRS Rosalind Ward, a married mother with two children. Tut, tut. This will never do. The Duke of Windsor was all very well, but we don't want another one. The prince will be 27 in November and if he's not married soon I intend washing my hands of him.

Let's hope Prince Andrew will find the marriage market easier to deal with when it falls his lot to give the nation a Duchess of York.

John's birthday tomorrow. I think I'll buy him a record or something similar. He's the owner of far too many pullovers, shirts, socks and trousers and they're beyond my price-range at the moment.


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Wednesday November 21, 1973

Before leaving for the YP Mum, reading the Daily Mail, mentions that the Prince of Wales is languishing on the Spanish coast with a 22-year-old daughter of the Duke and Duchess of Wellington. Of course, Buckingham Palace denied all reports of a possible engagement, but who can believe them? Nationwide, the lousy tv news programme, has suggested this list of possible brides:-

1. Her Imperial Highness Grand Duchess Marie of Russia, only child of the pretender to the Russian throne.

2. The Lady Victoria Percy, daughter of the Duke of Northumberland (don't know where he picked her up).

3. Miss Angela Nevill, daughter of Lord Rupert Nevill.

4. Lady Jane Wellesley, daughter of the Duke of Wellington.

5. Miss Rosie Clifton, daughter of a civil servant.

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Monday October 1, 1973

Blimey! Rosie Clifton isn't half a scorcher! Whilst battling through breakfast I glanced at the Daily Mail and was surprised to see a large picture of Prince Michael of Kent completely over-shadowing old Wilson's plans to nationalize everything he can get his little filthy hands on. Dropping my slice of toast I took up the Mail and began reading. It seems that Miss Clifton has been at Balmoral since Friday as a guest of the Prince of Wales. What a beauty she is! The old Poet Laureate ought to pen something about her instead of churning out all that rubbish about conservation and saving old ruins. Anyway, the latter-day Venus flew from Aberdeen to Heathrow with Prince Michael. What is more, the Mail insinuates that Rosie must have argued with the prince and turned to Prince Michael instead. Just who does the editor of the Daily Mail think he is? Obviously, Rosie and Michael had to come back to London today and travelled on the same flight from the same house-party. The papers will do anything to create a sensation. Buckingham Palace spokesmen deny rumours of romances but nobody listens to them anymore.

School all day. Uneventful. The sun was bright but the day was cold.

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Thursday September 27, 1973

A day of filthy, rain, rain and even more rain. Stay at home in the morning to do an Economics essay but to my horror I discover that I have mislaid the question. Anyway, at 12.30 I go to Benton and do my essay sitting with Julie Turner. Finished by 2.30.

The Economics lesson is awfully drab and I nearly fall asleep. Incidentally, I have been offered an interview at the Yorkshire Post. Will go see what happens next Thursday.

___has been spreading more rubbish about poor Chris.

See a horrid King Kong film. Chris rings at 8.30. We decide not to go out due to the freak weather conditions. But I am definately going out tomorrow. Lynn and Stephen Barstow come home. We all sit around the tv - Mum and Dad having gone out at 9 o'clock.

I see 'Jason King' at 11.30 and retire one hour later.

The Prince of Wales marriage stakes are making a large splash at the moment. Since Monday the Press have had the prince engaged at least five times - and to different women. The first of these fillies was Lady Jane Wellesley, daughter of the 8th Duke of Wellington - she of course denied it. The second was to a certain Janet Milner - she made no comment. Another was Rosie Clifton, a very theatrical sounding name. She's been to Balmoral for the weekend. In 1861 another Prince of Wales was entangled with a certain Nellie Clifden. Personally, I think it's a load of rot. Charles would never run off with a short-hand typist called Rosie. He is more sensible than that. I guess that the Prince of Wales will be 28 when he marries and the bride will be British upper class. Good old Lady Jane would fit in perfectly. After all, she is a relation of the dear Queen Mother.

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