Wake at 8.15 with Hugo licking my face. Such a sweet dog he is. Have eggs and bacon for breakfast, and set out for north London in pouring rain to do a days work. Spend an hour up to our ankles in deep mud before John calls off the work and we leave for Windsor.
Hear on the 12.30 news that the Duke of Gloucester is to be buried in St George's Chapel later this week - which means that he's either dead or they've decided to dispose of him without waiting for him to go. Every time I come to Windsor a member of the Royal Family dies.
Me and the "Two Johns" go to Beaconsfield, where we tidy a garden up for a couple of hours, having a laugh with a horrible machine which is supposed to collect the mown grass - it nearly kills Uncle John. Back to Windsor at 6 for an evening meal of chicken with Sheila. Chicken. Mum rings at 6.30 and I speak to her for 4 or 5 minutes - they had a good time in Norfolk and I promise to ring them tomorrow. See the 9 o'clock news. The Duke of Gloucester is to be buried in Windsor on Friday - which should, in Uncle John's words - be 'something to write home about'. Also hear that the new duchess is pregnant - though it is as yet unofficial. Go to the Vansittart Arms with Uncle J and J, where the elder J tells us his life story. Back at 10.30. Bed at 11.30.
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The journal of a Yorkshire lad from the age of 17 in 1973 through several decades .... Transcribing from handwritten volume to blog may take some time ...
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Tuesday February 11, 1986
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