Wednesday February 23, 1977

Ash Wednesday. Nothing much to talk about other than politics. The Devolution Bill was defeated in the Commons yesterday and I had the misfortune to watch Margaret Thatcher discussing this on News at Ten. Let us pray to God she will never get to No 10, Downing Street. (Does my politics confuse you all? I don't aim to deceive you in any way, but please remember I don't vote or support 'personalities'. I shall always cast my vote with the Tories but as far as I'm concerned Margaret Thatcher is as capable of forming the next government as Queen Victoria Eugenie of Spain. So that settles that problem.) -=-

David Glynn.

I feel relieved about the content of this diary. If you lot think you're being badly done to enduring my scribblings, just consult the published journals of Evelyn Waugh. Positively sickening they are. You ought to take my volumes round to Sir George Weidenfeld and get them published. I am doing far better than the depraved Mr Waugh. Sadly however, I'm not a world-famous author or leading wit, am I? Well, not yet anyway. I have been notified by Papa that Mrs Margaret Phillips, mother of Carole, of ex-relationship with the author fame, appeared in court at Otley last Friday and was fined £40 or so for ______. I always said that Mrs P was a silly cow. Tony rings at 8. He and Martyn are off out with Miss Moorhouse and Naomi to the wine bar and he wants to know if I am endulging. I say 'no' because it's Barclaycard pay-up or bust day tomorrow. Dave G also phoned from Stockport to say he'll try to make it on April 2. He rang on Sunday when I was at the YP and again yesterday when I was at John & Maria's. Good lad is David.