Monday July 28, 1975

Lovely hot day. Summer is back again. The papers are harping on about the Prince of Wales's latest girlfriend. However, I'm not even going to mention it, because it's obvious to all intelligent life forms on earth, that these women who are frequently linked romantically with the prince are nothing of the kind.

I am going to say something about another guest of the Queen at Windsor this weekend. Namely Princess Elizabeth of Yugoslavia, the biggest royal t**t this side of Nell Gwynn. I know she's a relative of the Duke of Edinburgh, but I fail to see why Her Majesty should wish to be seen associating publicly with her. I can't see the logic. They don't go near the Harewoods at all, and he's only been divorced once. Princess Elizabeth has had one divorce and her 2nd marriage to Neil Balfour can hardly be called happy and stable. Tut, tut, Ma'am.

Home at 5.30 after a miserable day at the YP. It's now obvious that Sarah is impassioned by another, so to speak, because I laid a bet on with myself that she wouldn't patronise my party and she's cooled off thoroughly in her approach to me. However, I am not going to worry about it.

Carole rang from St Ives at about 7 o'clock and I wasn't very polite with her because I had just overheard Peter telling Sue that he'd seen her in the Fox with another bloke last Thursday. I'm not the jealous type, but it is a crafty, underhanded move on her part: especially after she got on at me so much because I said I liked going about with Sarah occasionally.

Dave B, Peter, 'George' all come round, and I give 'George' a guided tour of the garden. Mum and Dad ring later. They've been in Cromer today. They seem to be having a good time.

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