Tuesday March 27, 1979

_. Didn't sleep too well , and was awakened at 4am with something of a start. Pottered around in the kitchen and went back to bed with a blackcurrant juice and continued with Agatha Christie. Slept until Dad woke me with a start at 7:45, To Leeds with Jim and Jennie.

I am horrified by the news that the horrid Welsh Nationalists are to vote with the government in tomorrow's vote of confidence. It would be so typical of Jim [Callaghan] to hang on by the skin of his socialist teeth until death finally catches up with him in October. I cannot stand another six months of this administration. Administration? That's a laugh.

Sarah is acting in a peculiar manner. I put this down to the malevolent influence of Richard Burke - a shady character.

I have been delving into the background of Princess Michael of Kent. Her grandfather, Prince Szapary, or something, was the last Austrian ambassador to St Petersburg before the revolution of 1917, and her great-grandfather was Prince Alfred of Windisch-Graetz. So, in fact, she's of royal blood and most acceptable. [Snob - MLR].

Home in heavy rain at 5pm for dinner with Mum and Dad. Susan is out at Peter's which is unusual for a Tuesday. Horribly bored. The TV is a dead loss. Is it a surprise that so many people avoid paying the tv licence when so much Yankee trash is hurled down to us from on high? We may just as well opt out and become the most recent US state [was Alaska the 50th or 51st?]

I am resolved to save money for my family tree fund, purchasing certificates, &c. I did make a start with £10 before Christmas, but this went on presents and alcohol. For the sake of my unborn, perfect grandchildren I must provide something of a genealogical table for posterity.

Mum phoned Alison and gave the go ahead for moving to Pine Tops until she has established a pent house of her own. Won't it be fun, I ask myself? If I don't watch it I'll be marrying the poor girl before the month is out. I've always had a very soft spot for Ally and now it seems I'm going to have ample opportunity to kindle the old, abeyant flame.

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Monday March 20, 1978

Work was busy. Sarah should have been back from her revolting week with the equally revolting Welsh but poor Delia broke her arm yesterday, falling over the telephone, and is, by all accounts, in a terrible state. Sarah will be tied up now playing Dr Kildare for weeks on end.

Peter James Nason is twenty today. Sue and I had tea quite alone and then Peter came and carried her off for a drink somewhere. Lynn got in later and we watched a comedy film on the BBC which gave us a good laugh. In one scene Leslie Phillips was in the bath with a steaming hot pressure cooker trying to get at the contents.

We had a few glasses of wine to celebrate Peter's birthday, and when they came back at 11 the three of us (Lynn having retired to her boudoir) cooked a meal and noshed away like pigs. Really enjoyable. They say that a camping jaunt is organised for Hawes at the weekend and I am invited with some gusto. No doubt to 'chaperone' my little sister who will otherwise be the sole girl in a tent on some windswept heath with fifteen drunken males. I agreed to join the party.

The thought of the Fox and Hounds with all those happy, smiling faces featured greatly in my decision making. Anyway, I'll have no money to speak of and the delights of darling Christine cannot be obtained free of charge. Do not, dear reader, assume that I am paying the above mentioned dear lady for carnal delights. I'm just pointing out that vodka does not grow on trees.

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Tuesday June 14, 1977

Left work at 12 unable to tolerate any more. Had a bite at home and then went down the lane to post David L's birthday card. Well, it's not exactly a birthday card more of a 'Congratulations on the Birth of Your Delightful Son' type of card.

Dave: 22nd birthday

The telephone engineer came and mended the phone (what else did you expect him to do?). No sooner is it repaired that I am bombarded with calls. Peter N rang to say Mama had contacted him from WALES this morning to enquire what had happened to us because the phone seemed to be ringing but nobody was answering. They're having bad weather and I have snatches of conversation mentioning Carnarvon, Llandudno and Pembroke, &c. Mother won't like Wales at all. The Welsh are a hideous, unfriendly race and the only decent Welshman is the prince of that name.

I then spoke to Carole and we decided - or perhaps I decided - not to go see the Barbra Streisand film on Thursday. No doubt it will be Oakwood Hall again and all that goes with it. Being a forthright, far-seeing couple we end the conversation not knowing what the hell we're doing.

I took afternoon wine with Edith and Ernest. Lend Edith my copy of 'Majesty'.

That night: Made my first visit to the Hare and Hounds at Menston since May 6. Martyn came up and we managed to get a lift from Naomi. Lynn manages very well behind the bar. She appears drawn and pale and lacking in that famous zest. Martyn didn't seem to notice anything odd. I told him _____________. A sad thing to have to say but inevitable. __________.

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Tuesday March 1, 1977

St David's Day. I do hope my Welsh readers have their flags flying today. It was a tiresome day at the YP keeping the conversation away from the subject of Martha Reeves and the Vandellas and Batley Variety Club. Somehow I think Carol J must suspect something because she didn't once mention the subject of tickets to Ursula.

Delia rang at 2.30 to say she is making her TV debut today at 3.45 on YTV (re her flowering arranging genius). She added that she'd just had four of five gin and tonics in the YTV bar and was tipsy. Carol, Sarah and I gathered round the office TV at the pre-arranged time and sure enough Delia emerged onto the 12inch square set in glorious black and white. She was marvellous - her usual hilarious self. I really must get an autograph or signed photo.

Home at 5.30pm for chicken, &c. See in the Daily Mirror - if such a newspaper is to be believed -that Davina Sheffield has taken in a lodger at her London home. Today is her 26th birthday and it may well mark the decline of her liaison with the Prince of Wales. Who knows? Nothing more of vast importance going on in the big, wide world.

Martha Reeves & the Vandellas ...

I am afraid that the month of March is going to be a month of costly entertainment. Numerous birthdays, and an unseemly batch of orgies coming up. How am I going to last until April?

Leave for Batley at 8.30 with Tony & Martyn. Well, what can I say about Batley (Variety Club)? The seats were revoltingly uncomfortable. Either designed by a retarded chimpanzee or Sir Basil Spence. The heat was unbearable and the drinks ridiculously priced. Martha Reeves, though quite good, didn't emerge onto the floor until after 11, and she'd gone by 12. I may have made it sound a depressing night, but it wasn't. Quite good for a Tuesday.





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Thursday February 3, 1977

Busy day at the YP again. At lunchtime I went to Schofield's to claim Mama's repaired coffee perculator which I carry off without having to pay anything. Look in Austick's and run my fingers through 'Majesty' by Robert Lacey. I shall have to buy it.

Ring Lynne. She's getting a cold, pneumonia, or something. I feel bored and utterly flattened. I fancy having a passionate, close, sexy romance with a lusty bombshell. Lynne just isn't up to it. Where will it all end?

Jim Callaghan: Scottish referendum

To Yeadon cinema with Lynne to see 'The Omen' (Yes, I've seen it before). It is good. Lee Remick especially. She goes off to Roundhay at 11pm in a gust of wind, hail and conglomoration of other elements.

Sit with a Scotch in front of the TV watching one of President Carter's fireside chats to the Universe from his White House parlour. Greasy little man. Never trust a president with gold fillings and Mohair pullovers that's what I say.

Quake in my socks at the late night news with Miss (Angela) Rippon. Evidently, Scotland, Wales and other bits of the UK are going to have one of those referendums in November to decide whether they want to get out of the Empire or not. We under-privileged English do not have a say in the matter. The tartan maniacs and mean leek-growing sods can pull out on us at any time but we English do not have the right to say whether we want  them to go or not.  Jim Callaghan really is the bloody limit. We should have a referendum asking the simple question: "Don't you think it's about time the Labour Government resigned? Answer 'Definately' or 'Yes'.

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Thursday October 7, 1976

Painting everything in sight until 8.30pm or so. CB rings at 6 o'clock to see if I'm going out on the town. I say no. Not like me at all, is it?

See Frankie Howerd on TV and then have a few drinks with Mum & Dad who come back from the Commercial saying Carol has suddenly returned to the USA without warning. What can have happened between her and Raymond? We did try to warn them about holidaying in Wales. ___________________________________.

Retire to bed....

after supping my lager..... tits...... hanging about in all direction.....shagged ......Precisely, he said, with the end of his fist thrust firmly.....

HRH The Duke of Kent is 41 on Saturday!

Good Old Duke. Edward Nicholas Paul Patrick David George William Bill Ernest Frederick..... or something like that.

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Sunday September 12, 1976

13th after Trinity. Awakened at 12.45pm by the survivors of last night's knees-up. Just time to leap into some clothes and it's back to the Commercial once again for a liquid luncheon. The cast of 'Emmerdale Farm' are still in the carpark and Frazer Hines and the YTV wardrobe man are in the bar. Pissed on stella artois. Talk to Lynn and Sam. Sam is certainly taken with Lynn and he keeps telling me so. Marita & MM come in with a girl but stand at the other end of the pub. Marita comes over and asks about Maria. Joined also by Raymond [Bond] again. He and Carol are going to Rhyll next week and Dad proceeds to give them a run down of the bad points of Welsh life and of the of the Welsh peasants. Since Carnarvon in July 1969 father has harboured a massive loathing for the Welsh people and all they stand for. Home at 2.30. I am sick. All that lager proved too much for me.

Sit chatting about family history with Harry, Sam & Dad. Goings on in the family 50 years ago seem like something from a different world now.

The Sunday papers have decided that Davina Sheffield will be the bride of the Prince of Wales. I'm still in the air about this. No point in discussing it until an engagement is announced. After tea of salad, trifle and cakes we all watch the film 'The Go Between' which isn't particularly a good film. The house is full of drink but I just couldn't touch alcohol at all. Unbelievable I know, but true.

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Wednesday August 4, 1976

Get a postcard from Lynne M in Wales. It's a place I've never had any desire to visit really. I do suppose it has its nice parts - just like most boring places do if you look hard enough. The Welsh people don't do a lot for me either. Harry Secombe and Richard Burton are supposedly Welsh. The pubs don't open at weekends, or on Monday or Tuesday, or when the month has "R" in it. So, it puts me right off. See Wales, and die. I hope Lynne likes it anyway.

The good old Queen Mother is 76 today. I cannot help thinking about what Edith's opinion is of her. Does the Queen Mother really 'fancy herself' ? I don't know, but I'll tell you this - if anybody deserves to fancy herself it's the Queen Mum. 53 years of service to the Crown as a member of the Royal Family. If the adoration of eight billion people hasn't turned HM's head, then she wouldn't be bloody normal. Goodnight.

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Wednesday November 26, 1975

A wet day again. To Leeds with Jim Rawnsley. He says that in ten years time we'll be in the same situation with Scotland as we are with Ireland now. I shudder with horror. The Irish Republic Army attacking from the right, the Scottish Republicans from top, and the Welsh Nationalists from below the knees. What will become of us all?

The Scots will keep all the North Sea Oil for themselves, and England's economic future will be non-existent. The Financial Times will have to close down due to lack of business, &c.

Carol J and I go down to photographic to look at the negs of yesterdays Royal Visit. We see at least three negs with us with the duchess, and order them. I'll have them enlarged and glued on my bedroom wall.


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