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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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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