Saturday March 19, 1977

To Brands Hatch, Saturday and Sunday, Perfect weekend.  Tony, Martyn and the girls, Miss Linda White ('White, not Shite') and Mrs Ruth _____ collected me at about 11am.

Linda is hilariously funny and we did nothing but howl with laughter all the way to Kent. Tony and Martyn sat up front leaving me with the two ladies in the rear of the vehicle.

Ruth.

We only stopped for two breaks. Once at the familiar motorway services at Leicester and the other at the Tower of London so that the girls could relieve themselves.

We got to a camp site about 2 miles from Brands Hatch by 5pm. The tent was erected by 6. By 7.30 we were in the nice village pub. We all got on like a house on fire. Like one, happy family. All pissed. Linda recited 'I know a woman with a punt cut square, not a square cutted punt, but a punt cut square'. Martyn tried to follow this, after three Southern Comforts and eight pints and began 'I know an old Cunt'.

We went on to a disco all horribly canned. The place was more like a youth club. The five of us did a spot of formation dancing. And to think we only met on Thursday! Linda is a great girl. Back to the camp site we had such a laugh with a camera and a lamp. Linda playing at Florence Nightingale and me hopping round the tents like Quasimodo. We had the Joan Armatrading tape at full volume in the tent. A rat bag in the neighbouring tent moaned that we had 'insisted' on keeping her awake for 'most of the night' and yet it's only 12.30.

Heatwave and Boogie Nights

Miss Joan Armatrading singing Love and Affection


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Thursday November 27, 1975

A wet, nasty day all round. Sarah and Carol J are in London on a day trip, and they are worried about being blown to pieces by the IRA. Before they left I advised the following: keep out of restaurants, cinemas, big famous stores like Harrods and Fortnum & Mason's, museums, art galleries, the Tower of London, Madame Tusaud's and the Planetarium; and that probably the safest thing they can do is go sit in the middle of St James's Park having heavily lagged their under garments with at least eight sand bags, and just hope for the best.

Friday October 17, 1975

We rise from our slumbers at some unearthly hour and head towards the pulsating capital of these Islands (is it called London, or something like that?) After several train rides and a tube adventure we find ourselves at Earls Court. I cannot fail to be completely taken in by that massive structure. The crowds, the people and the atmosphere in general is completely unique, but the only fault in all this is that the magical atmosphere doesn't stay all that long with me. Chris and Peter can wander around looking at the same things over and over again, but I look at everything the once and then call it a day. Three hours in Earls Court is two hours too long for me. I did what most peasants did. I stood wide-eyed in front of the Rolls Royce stand, and pretended not to notice the flashy, American trash. Chris was delighted just to look at clapped out old Vauxhalls and Fords.

After what seemed like hours at Earls Court the three of us go to the Tower of London by tube. Neither Chris or Pete had seen the jewels, and so it makes my fifth visit worthwhile! A guided tour around the tower by an endearing old Yeoman of the Guard ended in the chapel of St Peter Ad Vincula, where Anne Boleyn and all the rest are entombed. The jewels are still as beautiful and the Imperial State Crown takes the breath away from all who see it.

After 'doing the tower' we go over to the Tiger Bar where we have a few drinks until 8pm. We go for a meal at the fairly new Tower Hotel, where Peter nearly rendered himself unconscious on a low-hanging light fitting. Chris tripped and fell off the causeway on the way out and slid down a bank and ended up flat on his back underneath a Mercedes-Benz! This caused for some kind of celebration and so we returned to the Tiger Bar. Leave by train for Hayes at about 10.30.


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Saturday June 14, 1975

The great day here again. Dad wakes us at 5am and after consuming one cup of tea between the two of us we chase down the lane, John driving the cortina of course, to the Station Hotel, where we wait for the coach to London. This is the fourth consecutive trip to the Trooping the Colour I've been on - '72, '73, '74 and '75. John has accompanied me on the last three.

Besides being the Queen's official birthday it is also David's 20th. I have despatched a card to Worcester conveying my best wishes. Knowing poor David, he'll hate the thought of waving bye bye to his teens, but it comes to all of us in the end.


We mount the coach and off and away. We aim to meet Chris outside the Odeon opposite Hyde Park Corner at 10am. Alas, this is not to be. The ruddy thing catches fire or something (the coach) and we are sat in a lay-by from 6.30 until 8. The horror of knowing at 10am that Chris was waiting for us when we were still 50 miles from London just ruined everything. John slept all the way, and I felt hideously tired.

Get into London at 11.25 or something and we go straight to the palace where we see the Queen return from the Trooping. The Queen Mother and Princess Margaret and all the rest were in open landaus as usual. I could hardly enjoy any of it in the state I was in. Sweating like a pig, and weak at the knees. It was so hot, humid and cloudy too.

At 1pm after the (RAF) flypast we staggered to Carnaby Street (via the tube of course) where we had a few drinks (me on coke) until 3. We then rang home to get Chris's hotel phone number and then contacted the hotel leaving a message telling Chris to meet us at the Tiger Bar before 9pm, when we would have to leave.

At about 4 o'clock I was too tired to do anything other than lay down, and so we made our way to the Tower. At first we sat on a bench opposite HMS Belfast, but I couldn't keep my eyes open. We both went to the garden of rest, a memorial for all the merchant seamen killed in the two World Wars, and I slept soundly for an hour. At 6 we went in to the Tiger Bar, where I had a few pernods, cokes and tomato juices. MET CHRIS AT 8O'CLOCK. Success at last! We handed over the £180 holiday money and had a few more drinks. Our coach left at 9pm. But at least we achieved our aim. I'd given up hope of ever seeing Chris at all.

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