Wednesday February 4, 1976

Efficient day at the office because Kathleen is at the Doncaster office for the day visiting the Vivien Nicholson-type female who came over here for the week not too long ago.

Sarah is in high spirits and I may be thick - you've probably known all along - but I think that sometimes she quite fancies me. Don't get me wrong. I've no plans to involve myself with her. No plans at all. Carole is the one for me at the moment.

I write to Carole again (I wrote yesterday) and spend all lunchtime at it.

Sarah and Eileen leave at 4 o'clock and I work with Carol until 4.30.

Marita is on page 1 of the EP! Pictured with her postman. Evidently he sent her a card on her birthday, or something, and her Dad was so touched he wrote to Malcolm Barker, &c &c.

Jeremy Thorpe is asking to resign now (as leader of the Liberal party) and the whole business is becoming more and more involved.

I don't see why he should resign because he's homosexual. If we can have a woman leading the Conservative party and a man leading the Labour party it seems only right and proper that the leader of the Liberal party should be something in-between. The man is a fool for offering to resign in the first place. In these promiscuous times I can't see the public objecting to the sexual escapades of a politician. (I do really. Just trying to write something controversial).

But seriously, Jeremy Thorpe may be a first class politician and I feel sad that he shouldn't have to go simply because he fancies young men with nice legs. After all, just look at Edward Heath. He is as bent as a £12 note but most of the Tory party continue to idolise him two years after his death. They'll be telling us next that Margaret Thatcher is a lesbian.

Home for tea at 5.30 and attempt to get in the bath afterwards which is foolish because John and Susan are on the same caper and they show more cunning that I do.

Carole rings twice. The first time we just have a friendly chat, but on the second call she's near to tears complaining about the way her mother and father treat her. They really are a pair of swines and I tell her to be more ruthless with them. The poor thing is far too soft and servile to fight back. She is coming to tea tomorrow night and we're going out afterwards most likely.

I go to bed with a cup of cocoa at about 10.30 to escape the winter olympics on TV.

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