Tuesday January 29, 1974

Dad points out that in the present 'crisis' the Royal Family know what to do and that is to get out! It seems as though the Queen, the Duke of Edinburgh, Prince of Wales, Princess Anne and Capt Phillips are all out of the UK. Even Lord Snowdon seems to have deserted the sinking ship. However, the good old Queen Mother is still moving among us, and what we woulod do without that dear lady I shudder to think.

Quite a busy day. Typed the paper up this morning. Janice was on half-day. I am taking Thursday and intend goint to Rawdon Library and calling in at Benton Park.

Train strikes will take place next week, and I am now beginning to seriously wonder whether the whole country will live to see the first daffodil of Spring. A General Strike cannot now be avoided. Lord Carrington made suggestions that a 'Two Day Week' will be seriously considered by the Cabinet. The Confederation of British Industry says economic collapse of unprecedented proportions can only arise from such an action...and all MPs can find to argue about is whether it is immoral for a man and his wife to take a bath together! I think it's a very good thing. The poor woman who suggested the idea must think that is an original idea! All the best couples have bathed together since the beginning of time.

Mum and Dad go to Esholt at 9. Sue and I make beans on toast. See a good tv programme about Hugh Heffner, owner of the magazine 'Playboy'. Oh, what it must be like to own all that wealth!

(Greed, greed, envy envy, etc).

-==-

Sunday January 20, 1974

2nd after Epiphany. Death of George V in 1936. My theory about toilet paper rationing was used by Giles in his Daily Express cartoon this morning. He pictured thousands of football fans queuing for sheets of toilet paper to throw at the match. Whatever became of petrol rationing anyway? They soon quietened down about that didn't they? The poor, deranged MP was said we should all clean our teeth in the dark apologised - it seems he tried it on several occasions, and emerged with his hair spattered in Macleans, or something equally nauseating. Old Lord Carrington suggests that if we're good we may be put on a four-day week very shortly! Isn't it nice of him? But in general, this week's been another step down the path to destruction. Pity really. Wake up at 2.45 in the afternoon! Have a nice lunch and see a very funny film about marriage. Completely domestic evening. See Monty Python's Flying Circus. Died laughing. The poor Duke of Windsor became King Edward VIII thirty eight years ago today. The massive burst of 'Windsor mania' which erupted at the time of his death in May '72 is now quite stagnant again. No one gives a damn about the duchess, who winters in Cap d'Antibes. The poor old thing will be 78 in the summer. --==--

Tuesday January 15, 1974

The whole nation is hysterical. Today no trains ran anywhere in the United Kingdom, and the general feeling is that the General Election will take place before February 14. It seems as though the Three Day Week will last into the Spring, and it was announced on the 9 o'clock news that a massive toilet roll shortage will make rationing inevitable. From Thursday everyone in Britain with the surname beginning with A and B and ordered to attend their local Post Office in order to collect toilet paper rationing books. Each person is allowed three 5in squares of paper per week. However, many people with foresight who realised that legislation was inevitable have made ample provision for the coming 'Three Day Shit'. Mr Heath, for one, had 7,000 rolls of Kleenex toilet paper delivered to Chequers early this morning. And by the looks of things he's going to need every single sheet before the winter is over.

By this time next month 10, Downing Street, my have a new occupant. I wonder whether Mrs Gormley will re-decorate the Cabinet Room? I wouldn't be surprised to find she's already chosen the curtain material.

Go to Leeds on the 33 bus. Arrive YP at 8.30. Lousy day. Miss Went yelled at me for forgetting that certain pictures should have been returned, and I'd filed them. Janice was on half day. I'm having Thursday again. Intend having my beautiful locks removed - haven't had a decent haircut since July!

Chose 2 pairs of shoes from Muriel Rawnsley's catalogue. Bed at 11.0.

-==-

Friday January 4, 1974

Awake at 11.30 feeling very much better. The morning in bed's done me a lot of good. Slip into a robe and go downstairs for lunch. Mum comes home at 12.20 absolutely frozen solid due to the electricity and heating cuts in her office. This 'Three Day Week' will give everyone pneumonia. See a George Formby film in the afternoon - not very funny, but hear all the unusual, out-dated swear words like 'twerp', which I think means a pregnant fish or something. At about 7.30 John goes to the Emmotts whilst I sit by the fire. See a 35 minute programme on the Royal Wedding - very impressive. The BBC must be showing it to cheer everyone up in the present crisis. A cartoon in the paper the other day said what we now want is either a royal wedding or a royal birth. That ought to be the green light for the Prince of Wales. -==-

Monday December 17, 1973

Princess Anne and Mark Phillips return to desolate Britain. 

Chaos reigns in all places. Mr Barber announced his Christmas budget in the Commons this afternoon. A typical 'election type' budget, which gets only at the rich. Obviously, Mr Heath is planning an early general election. Some sources are going so far as to suggest January 24! My resources as a voter may be required sooner than I imagined. 

 An Aide-de-Camp to the Queen has been injured by a letter bomb in London this morning. Brigadier O'Cock is his name. It goes to show that this can easily happen to VIPs. The Queen herself is unaffected by letter bombs. Her mail will be thoroughly checked before it is placed before her and if it isn't, Brig O'Cock is a good example of what might happen. The tv today closes down at 10.30. I go to bed at 10 o'clock to avoid the humiliation of seeing everything black-out at such an early hour. --==--

Friday December 14, 1973

Uncle Tony 'caught up' with Mother today. He's 38. Haven't seen him or the family since October. This time of the year tends to be a bad one for Auntie Hilda, who becomes depressed at the thought of spending money at Christmas. At the moment her main worry is Uncle Tony. Will he or will he not lose his job in the current economic crisis? We all know he won't, but Auntie Hilda doesn't. She's never content with life like Mum is. Not at all like sisters really. 

 Chris rings at about 7. Meet at the Emmotts at 9 o'clock. Martin Vere-Bujnowski and little Helen join us, with no Laura for a change. She's gone to a disco with Philip Cartwright. Martin and I discuss the party tomorrow evening. He thinks it'll be an absolute orgy... five of each sex... can you blame the poor boy's mind for thinking that way? All get merry. Leave Emmotts at 11.10. Bus home. 

 -==-

Thursday December 13, 1973

Britain today came to a grinding standstill when the Prime Minister, Mr Heath, announced drastic measures in the Commons. From Monday many industries will be on a three day week, which will create massive unemployment by the beginning of the New Year. Tv will close down at 10.30, and Christmas tree lights will only be allowed to be lit on Christmas Eve, Christmas Day and Boxing Day. The steel industry is to close down and the so-called 'national boom' is dead. Poor Ludovic Kennedy was heart-broken when he realised that his programme 'Mid-Week' would be axed by Mr Heath's measures. The poor man was desolate. Anyway, on the bright side, turkeys are free from the VD epidemic which wiped out millions of them last year, and no restrictions concerning the manufacture of Christmas puddings have yet been enacted by HM Government. Poor Sarah was shivering with cold at work this afternoon due to the ban on office heating. Petrol will not be rationed until the New Year. And if you want my opinion, all we want now is a World War and we will have had everything. Went for a drink with Peter Lazenby at lunchtime. Didn't return to the YP until 2.20. Miss Went was nice about it. I was pissed. Drinking on an empty stomach always flattens me. Going to the editor's Xmas booze-up on Dec 21. Bed at 11.30. -==-