Tuesday August 15, 1978

A humid, thundery day. The morning papers have photographs of Princess Anne and Peter Phillips spread thickly about, on this HRH's 28th birthday. It is a disgrace that Her Majesty's grandson is of no higher rank than a British Railways ticket collector or lowly road sweeper. Even the cleaning lady with 50 years' service at Montague Burton's and awarded the B.E.M is of greater rank. Poor little chap. However, it is a sign of the times I do suppose.

Sarah was in a strange mood today. I saw her laughing and squealing in the company of John Mac. God knows what became of this so-called estrangement.

Met Jacq at lunchtime and we had a couple of drinks at the Ostlers. She gave me some Royal Albert china for mother. I told her I'm working on Friday night. At least we'll have a cheap weekend. On Saturday we plan to see Lord Olivier in 'The Betsy' a film from the Harold Robbins book of the same name. I read the book about six years ago. Sir Laurence plays his first movie sex scenes with 'Roxanne' the French maid. Whatever next?

Tonight I went with Jim Nason to Lawn Road and bashed around on the staircase for a couple of hours. Lynn, Dave, Mum and Dad went to the Cow & Calf Hotel to sort out the wedding reception and Jim and I met them at the Red Lion for a couple of drinks at 10:15. Lynn was slightly pissed and went straight up to bed on her arrival home.

Wedding fever is choking us all. I'm sure Lynn's sickness this evening was just as just excitement as alcohol. A man in a Jag followed her at walking pace down the lane this morning with eyes and everything else bulging, heavy breathing, &c. The pervert obviously needs his extremities hacking off.

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