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Tuesday September 26, 1978

Very wet day. Christine phoned me twice today ~ on both occasions she was bored to tears. Her latest escort gave her the push over the weekend. Nothing much else was gleaned. She was in good form, which is more than can be said of her behaviour last Monday when we were out with David L and Jacq.

A bit of royal news now I think: The Daily Mail gossip columnist Mr Dempster said today that the gorgeous Princess Michael of Kent is wearing maternity clothes and looking radiant with it. She and Prince Michael were married as recently as June 30 and I can't see anything occurring quite so soon. It's not even three months.

The Prince of Wales and Countess Angelika Lazansky have been together at Balmoral recently. The Daily Mail says the Czech exile is a girlfriend of the Earl of Cawdor. I cannot see the prince marrying a 30 year~old Roman Catholic lady. The Prince of Wales really should take more notice of young English beauties. Elizabeth Diana Manners, for instance. She's a niece of the Duke of Rutland. For the time being at least I think we will have a bachelor Prince of Wales.

Saw the second part of "Roots" on the BBC and retired to bed with Adolf at 11 o'clock.

-=-

Monday September 25, 1978

John's 22nd birthday. In Stranraer ~ no doubt knee deep in heather, haggis and Moira Anderson. I couldn't think of a more ghastly fate. He received his birthday parcel because Dad ran into Molly and she told him they'd been to Ayr Races and had called to see John and Maria at Lochans at the weekend and his presents were displayed in the caravan. __________.

I met Jacq on Wellington Street at lunchtime and she handed over Sue's shoes and trousers, borrowed on various occasions after 'orgious' activities, &c.

We are going to Lawn Road for tea on Wednesday. Mum and Dad spent the evening with Lynn & Dave tonight, while Sue, Pete and I sat bunched in front of the TV here. I buried myself in Toland's 'Adolf Hitler'. I'm reading about his escapades in the 1920s at the moment.

I poked around in the kitchen undecided about just what to devour and finally gulped down a jar of glacé cherries. To bed at 11.

Note: I knew that Mary Malcolm, the ancient broadcaster, was a granddaughter of Lillie Langtry, but had no idea that Mary's grandfather was H.S.H. Prince Louis of Battenberg, 1st Marquess of Milford Haven.

-=-

Sunday September 24, 1978

We had breakfast at Pine Tops on our arrival home and then collapsed until about 11. Lynn and Dave arrived for Sunday dinner and we spent the whole day relaxing with Mother.

Jacq looked ridiculous in her Pontypool rugby shirt, and we laughed a good deal about poor cider~stained, bedraggled Eric the Tit, all forlorn and damp upstairs.

Saw "Lillie Langtry" on TV ~ another historical drama ~ starring Francesca Annis as the Victorian beauty. Jacq left at 9:30 and an hour later I was in bed with Adolf Hitler.

-=-

Saturday September 23, 1978

Sun rises 06:48 sun sets 18:58

Not too happy today. Could have had a good fight with anyone who cared to try it on. Lying in my bed this morning I decided to go to this so~called fancy dress party as a Harewood House Bird Garden attendant, with one of Delia's stuffed birds stitched to my left shoulder. Ingenious, eh? I spent a couple of hours busily sewing Eric (the little Tit) onto an old white t-shirt.

Susie and Peter took me to Leeds at 8:30 and we joined Jacq and Hayden at Len's Bar, where a few other fancy~dress goers were gathered. I could see a couple of French maids, the odd clown and a very poor imitation of Queen Victoria.

Eric the Blue Tit created a sensation. I was a bit cool with Jacq (who was dressed in a Pontypool rugby shirt and footless tights masquerading as a punk rocker) and found her constant chatter with Milky Bar Kid Haydn (yes, it's spelt the same way as the famed composer) somewhat irritating.

Sue and Pete left for a disco at 10 and Jacq, the Milky Bar Kid and a female Mexican Bandit and I left to get a taxi to the Railway Station. What seems like hours of hilarity followed. We didn't get to the party until after midnight. We laid on an hours free entertainment for tired British Rail passengers, performing a circus act upon a luggage trolley and giving an adequate rendering of "Singin' in the Rain".

Stanmoor Drive was our destination and a bemused taxi driver found it quite easily. We were met by the hostess (the French Maid) but to our horror the booze was already running dry and our couple of bottles of cider looked pathetic.

Jacq did a good deal of scrounging and we knocked back sherry, red wine, and home brewed champagne. Naturally, at about 4am I brought it all back up on some unfortunate cabbage patch on Stanmoor Drive, Burley, Leeds. To my surprise Carol J and Marilyn were in the throng, but they left early to go to another orgy in Horsforth. Marilyn drank my cheap cider and insisted on prodding Eric (the tit) before leaving. I must say I was the most original character in fancy dress. However, I switched from being a Harewood Bird Garden operative to being the Bird Man of Alcatraz.

Jacq and I were among the last to leave and we walked to Guiseley arriving at 7:30am. Jacq was fed up and exhausted on the journey and at one point was reduced to tears.

-=-




Friday September 22, 1978

Took a half day at 12:30 because I was dying for a drink and feeling more than slightly hungover. I met Sarah, Marilyn (Wheeler) and a girl whom I will refer to as Miss X, at Parker's Wine Bar at 1pm. Didn't enjoy it. Miss X sleeps with a different guy every night and I heard her telling Sarah she'd been to the clinic this morning adding "it's all cleared up now". Sarah wanted to be sick. I fixed my gaze onto Miss X's legs hoping to catch a glimpse of the cascading slime.

Later Sarah confided in me that she loathes and despises the current surge in immorality. I do agree. Far too much is made of sex, don't you think? Sarah's new beau, Andy, came into see her and poured white wine into her until 2:45, no doubt hoping to have his wicked way with her. She was only supposed to have an hour for lunch. Carol J and Eileen were far from amused back at the office.

At about 3pm I left the love~birds and caught an omnibus to Guiseley. It was back to Leeds again at 7 o'clock to meet Jacq at the ABC cinema. We went to see 'Heaven Can Wait' starring Warren Beatty, Julie Christie and Dyan Cannon. A good, amusing and delightful film and far more entertaining than I would have ever imagined. Undoubtedly a classic. Home alone at 11:30.

-=-

Thursday September 21, 1978

St Matthew

Pay day but all the money is gone before the packet has been open for ten minutes. I met Jacq at 1pm and we went shopping for a present for John, who is 22 on Monday. I bought him a pair of tartan socks from Schofield's, and a ridiculous, nauseating birthday card. Mum's wrapping all the gifts in one big parcel and despatching it to Stranraer in the morning.

Tonight I went to the Shoulder of Mutton, picked up on the way by Pete N with Dave W, Chippy and Gus. Dave says I look like Phil Lynott of 'Thin Lizzy' fame. Gus pokes fun at my woolly tie. Chippy makes his usual disgusting remarks. A sensational evening in the pub. At one point we had 25 pints of beer on the table because we purchased four rounds in one go because of the crowding and shortage of glasses.

Oakwood Hall wasn't enjoyable. I felt over nostalgic about the place. It was even worse when I wandered into the garden, because it reminded me of my life with Carole, and that seems such a long time ago. I put all this wallowing down to the fact I was too pissed up. Unhealthy really. Dave W picked up a nurse from Halifax, and Pete was chatting up a 15 year~old blond piece. I don't like to see him flirting with another woman when he's supposed to be attached to my sister.

-=-

Wednesday September 20, 1978

One day when a National Front dictatorship rules over these islands led by a short, enfeebled geezer with a Charlie Chaplin moustache, I only hope I am a tax exile in Zurich, or somewhere. I simply don't like the idea. I do suppose it's up to people like me to put a stop to this growth of fascism before it gets out of hand because looking at the Germany of the 1920s the masses didn't see the danger in Mr Hitler. Pete Lazenby is now a leading activist in the Anti-Nazi League, and he is busy recruiting all the time, but I fear that his legions are made up of blood~red communists, who'd like nothing better than to see the likes of the Hon Mrs Angus Ogilvy, and her more important relatives, hanging by their necks from the turrets of Tower Bridge. It's always from one extreme to the other, don't you think?

Retired to bed with Adolf Hitler and these gloomy thoughts at 10:30.

-=-

Sunday April 1, 1984

 4th Sunday in Lent Mothering Sunday New Moon Sunny, bright, &c. Smothering Sunday. All Fool's Day. Busy. Rob came and so too did th...