Monday January 15, 1979

Will Margaret Hilda (Thatcher) ever become prime minister of these crumbling, desperate islands? I have a quaking, nasty feeling of nausea about the whole subject of the next general election. Do I forsee yet another feeble minority Labour government taking us through to the mid 1980s? Please, Oh please God, spare us this horror!

Another one of those Spencer girls has been spotted in the royal circle. Lady Diana Spencer, 17, is now at Sandringham with her elder sister, Lady Sarah, and both have been out shooting with the Prince of Wales. Lady Diana was born in 1961 and I can't help thinking that our future Queen consort is going to be a child of the 1960s. The Prince of Wales cannot marry someone thirty years old because her child~bearing days (or perhaps years) can be numbered on one hand. So, in the next couple of years a batch of females in their early 20s will have to be taken into consideration. All very exciting, isn't it?



I have decided that Peter Nason's beard is a perfect addition to his face. His features were too elongated, and now you can't see 'em for hair. The facial hair makes him look older too. He's been in a cheerful, almost elated mood recently. What can it be?

Watched TV until the set nearly exploded from the heat. A Charles Bronson film on BBC2, and of course a repeat of a 1972 edition of Monty Python's Flying Circus. Bed after 12 and read 'Confessions of a Private Soldier'. Blimey, anything is better than the Crossman diaries.

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Wednesday November 17, 1976

No real desire to get out of bed today. Reading the Daily Mail over breakfast I see that the renovations of Sandringham House are complete. Also see that Her Majesty is in need of more staff. Should I apply to join the Royal Household? More exciting than the Yorkshire Post library I am sure. I've a good mind to drop Sir Martin Charteris a line.

Lord Irwin and Mrs Camilla Parker Bowles

Work wasn't up to much at all really. Bogged down and don't get chance to ring Lynne. She didn't ring me either. Why should I worry?

News: The chairman of the Central Electricity Generating Board will not be asked to stay on when his term off office ends in June; Lord Irwin married Camilla Parker-Bowles today; Anthony Ronald Brotherwood Esq is paying a visit on his friend Stuart Walker Esq at his abode above WH Smith's in Ilkey, and later they're going out for liquid refreshment.

Not much is it really? What can you expect from a revoltingly bored 'middle-class' lay-about? Oh, I'm pissed off! Don't think I'm kidding about flitting to Sandringham either. This could be the start of the great big invisible career I've been searching for. Sir Michael Lawrence Rhodes, GCB, KCVO, &c, Private Secretary to Her Majesty the Queen C/O Buckingham Palace, London SW1.

On the subject of shooting up the social scale, have you heard the one about Uncle Tony? Yes, Mr Gadsby is standing for the council [Liberal].

Read 'Edward VIII' by Lady Donaldson all night. I never fail to be angered and very moved by the Abdication Crisis. The king really should have married Wallis Simpson. Whether she should have been Queen or not is another matter.

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Thursday January 30, 1975

Whilst messing around with the EP at work I see that the headlines of last night's paper concerned Lord Snowdon and Mr Hamilton, the repulsive Labour MP who should have been shot years ago. It appears that Lord Snowdon has written to the publishers of Hamilton's new book 'My Queen and I', and has has asked him not to publish it. Obviously, he's been instructed to do this by Her Majesty herself or by Princess Margaret, who receives some obnoxious insults in the vile publication, and it is quite understandable that the Royal Family are hurt by it. I for one, absolutely refuse to read it. William Hamilton is so disgustingly low, it would be impossible for most normal people, even certain Labour members of Parliament, to stoop to his level.

Home at 6 o'clock to discover that I've mislaid £2 since last night. After a frantic search I fail to discover it, and sit about moping, pestering myself with worry, and tearing out large chunks of hair, screaming and biting my nails off. Quite upset really. Chris rings at 8.30 to say we may have got in somewhere for the holidays. The travel agent in question is ringing him back at 9.30. So I'll report on the details later. My fingers are crossed with expectancy.

Three hundred and twenty six years ago this day King Charles I was brutally murdered by his captors. A foul day ineed that was. What with William Hamilton's new book and this anniversary I cannot envisage much joy and happiness at Sandringham this week.Her Majesty may well be quaking in her boots.

Chris rings at 9.30 to say we have managed to get a place in Majorca for the weeks we wanted. Not too happy about Majorca, but Chris was assured it's a good place where we're going. More developments tomorrow.

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