Monday March 22, 1976

It is rumoured that Uncle Harold (Wilson) will receive the Garter when he steps down from the premiership in two weeks time. The 'customary' earldom will not be accepted by the dear old thing because he's intending to carry on as an MP on the back benches.

I place customary in inverted commas because the Press always assumes that the Queen always offers an earldom to an outgoing Prime Minister at their final weekly tete a tete. This is not so. Church declined a dukedom but took the Garter, whilst Eden took the Garter plus the earldom. Macmillan refused all honours in 1963, and Home did 10 years in the Commons after his stint in No. 10. The old boy did return to the Lords as a cheap life peer a couple of years ago. Heath, I feel sure, won't have been offered anything because his relationship with Our Gracious Sovereign Lady was not a happy one - again, that is if the Press is to be believed. What is more, the circumstances of Heath's departure from that high office cannot have pleased Her Majesty.

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Sunday March 21, 1976

3rd in Lent. The clocks were altered again early this morning and so we all lost an hour in bed and I emerged at about 11.30, I think. Throwing back the curtains I received a shock indeed. Snow is coming down by the bucket full and a massive white mass is the only thing to confront ones eye-balls. Yes, it is the first day of Spring.

Dave, Pete and John all exchanged cars this morning. John sold his spitfire to David and David sold his 'Baker Mobile' to Peter - who has yet to take driving lessons, but hopes to start shortly. I feel so sorry for John, who is now carless.

After piles of porridge and greasy bacon and fried sausage I look at the Sunday papers. The Queen and Princess Margaret had a meeting at Royal Lodge yesterday to discuss the separation. Who'd have believed it? And who is willing to bet that within the next three or four years we will be reading of 'The Princess Margaret, Mrs Roderic Llewellyn' in the Court Circular? But to be serious, the whole thing is a great tragedy especially for the poor Queen who has dedicated her whole life to building the House of Windsor into a secure dynasty only to have her 25 years on the throne marred by her sisters marital problems.

All afternoon and until 11 o'clock tonight Carole and I sort out Mum's photo collection and re-bind the lot. Exhausted ans short tempered by the end of it.

David takes Carole home in the spitfire. I come to bed and mess around looking for something to read. The library days seem so long ago.

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Saturday March 20, 1976

A joint vendetta by Mrs Phillips and 'Cocky' her parrot, bring me out of my slumbers at the crack of dawn. I am very much afraid that Carole's mother isn't all that she should be, and this is blatantly obvious, when one sees her rushing about the house at 10 o'clock on a Spring morning working herself into a frenzy of excitement due to the fact that a 1967 'Man from U.N.C.L.E' film is on YTV in ten minutes time.
Horribly insane.

It is a beautiful morning but I feel shattered and my head is thumping like the clappers. At 12 o'clock Carole and I get the Bradford bus. I get off at Hawksworth Lane and head home to see the beloved Queen Mother who must be wondering in despair as to my whereabouts. Carole goes on to Bradford to buy me a bomber jacket for my birthday.

Mum was concerned at my whereabouts because she knows I never sleep at Carole's but she was soon calmed. I retired to bed until 4.20 and awake feeling greatly refreshed. Peter arrived to woo Sue and I congratulated him on his 18th birthday.

This evening Mum, Dad, Lynn, Dave, Sue, Pete, Carole and I go off for a meal to a restaurant in Headingley which is nice but hardly worth venturing all that distance for when one can enjoy virtually the same meal on our own doorstep - namely the Hare & Hounds.

Carole stays the night and beds down in the girls room. David sleeps in the dining room in a sleeping bag and Peter has the bottom bunk in my room.

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Friday March 19, 1976

Uncle Jack's funeral. A sombre, wet, horrible day. I get up at 8am and attire myself in one of Dad's black ties and my new suit. Mum and Dad go to Shipley at 9 o'clock to collect some of Auntie Mabel's friends and I hang about for ten minutes waiting for John. He comes in the spitfire and it's the first real chance I have had to have a chat with him since the weekend. He too borrows a black tie, and at 9.20 we set out for Auntie Mabel's place. Only half an hours journey. Uncle Peter arrives simultaneously.

The curtains are drawn and flowers are piled everywhere.___________. Most of the Wilson clan gather and a rakish, motley bunch they are. See cousins Alan and Anne. They came in a Triumph Stag which excited John no end. Mum's brother Albert seems a decent sort. Eleanor, Hilda there and all the rest. It (the funeral) took place at Rawdon at 10.30. Awfully depressing. Weeping women, &c.

Back to Auntie Mabel's for tea (with a dose of whisky in it) until 11.45 when John gives me a lift to Horsforth where I get a bus back to Leeds.

Hear at 2.30 that the Snowdon break-up has been officially announced. Who'd have believed it? The EP is full of rubbish about Lord Snowdon renouncing his peerage - legally impossible -and tales of him emigrating to the Australian outback make me laugh.

Out to the Hare with Carole - the darling - and gang tonight. At 11 I go to Carole's for the night.

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Thursday March 18, 1976

Lord Snowdon and Princess Margaret are expected to announce something 'within the next 48 hours' says an official statement. Rumours that the Queen has been ringing Dr Coggan in Barbados, or wherever he's touring at the moment, have been denied, but he is aware of the situation and says that at times like this it's the children to whom we should show our sympathy. I don't see the couple washing their dirty linen in public before the Silver Jubilee, and it will mean a separation until after the celebrations next June. Divorce courts and custody cases this year will only tarnish the Silver extravaganza.

Carole comes up tonight. She says Princess Margaret looks young for her age. I know you're probably bored with Margaret & Tony gossip, but you must understand that we peasants revel in this sort of carnage. Anything is better than the Labour leadsership squabble which is an open and shut case if you ask me. Jim Callaghan is the next 1st Lord of the Treasury, amongst other things.

Watch TV with Carole. We've been going out for seven months now. She dotes on me and relies on me to make every decision for her her which is an awful responsibility at times I can assure you.

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Wednesday March 17, 1976

St Patrick's Day. Christine B's official birthday today. Yes, in this respect she's very much like the poor, worried old Queen.

Go down to Carole's at about 8 o'clock after standing around in fog. The pair of us (and we are a pair) meet Chris and Christine in the Hare & Hounds and have a fun time. Laura and Dave come in and we go down to Apperley Lane and The Queen's. We all got a bit pissed actually and it didn't feel like a Wednesday. Nobody mentioned Princess Margaret all evening which was nice of them. Chris and Christine complement each other so well. Sometimes I still feel that I fancy her.

The papers today are splattered with gossip about Princess Margaret and Lord Snowdon and other than that I'm saying nothing further today about the affair because I do not believe it is half as bad as the Daily Telegraph like to assume, and besides, if the princess fancies a bit on the side who am I to comment?

James Callaghan will probably be disappointed in the 'Premier Stakes' but all the papers automatically assume he'll be the next (Labour) leader. Things can't be as simple as this! Some little squirt like Eric Varley or Stanley Cohen will be the next Prime Minister. You mark my words.

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Tuesday March 16, 1976

Christine B, 20. A hectic day really. Upset by Uncle Jack's departure.

Just before lunchtime today I heard that Uncle Harold (Wilson) had resigned (as Prime Minister) and had consequently thrown the nation into utter chaos and turmoil the likes of which haven't been experienced since Pat Phoenix quit 'Coronation Street'. Everyone thought it was a big joke at first.

The very thought of life without little Harold Wilson doesn't bear thinking about. What will become of the economy? What about the pound in our pockets?

Home and have tea with Mum & Dad. They go and console Auntie Mabel whilst Lynn, Sue and I swap bedrooms. They take over the back bedroom which was home to John and I for about four years - horribly sad and nostalgic it was.

Carole came at 8.30 and John and Maria came back from Scotland and called in to see us. They have had a great time and look well for it. The build up to the wedding had got on everyones nerves somewhat and if it had come any later I'd have either shot myself or put myself up as a candidate in the Labour party leadership struggle that will undoubtedly occur within the next few days or so.

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