Wednesday November 15, 1978

Phoned Christine and asked her what she was planning to do next Monday. Unfortunately, she has been invited to a party, but the sadness soon turned to joy and thanksgiving when we discovered ~ to our delight ~ that we have been invited to one and the same function. The so-called buxom Jill ~ whoever she is ~ deserves some kind of payment for managing to throw CB and me together on a Monday evening.

Lynn phoned me. __________________________.

Jacq and I went to the Ostler's at 1pm for revolting toasted cheese sandwiches and warm lager. __________________.

John phoned tonight. It was good to hear him. He was cheerful and blustery. The caravan is bearing up and hasn't collapsed yet. He wanted to know when we are going north to see him. Susan and Pete always decline to discuss the venture. We really must go before December.

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Tuesday November 14, 1978

Full Moon 20:00 Birthday of the Prince of Wales

Thirtieth Birthday if His Royal Highness The Prince of Wales. Once again the poor guy is being bombarded by the Press and tv on the painful subject of Her future Royal Highness The Princess of Wales. It's quite obvious that the prince is biding his time and if you ask me I believe he has yet to meet the love of his life. Once he finds her I am sure he won't dither for long because the press will soon sniff her out. Come home Davina Sheffield ~ all is forgiven. She was my favourite. Poor old Wales, he must be totally sick of this idle nattering and speculation.

At the YP Kathleen remarked that I was being quiet and subdued. Why is this depression hanging so heavily over my over~worked brain? ___________________. Jacq phoned at 11. We are meeting at the Ostler's tomorrow.

Sue gave me an invitation from Naomi's friend Jill to attend her 21st (birthday party) at the Elmer next Monday night. I believe Jill is the large, well~made buxom maiden, with the big, pink, flaccid spectacles. (Ah, you thought I was going to say thighs, didn't you?)

Which lucky lady will have the honour of acting as my escort? Christine is an obvious candidate, but sadly she knows nothing of my plans as yet. Things could prove awkward, for instance, if she's down to work at the Fox (and Hounds) or is committed to a previous engagement with one of the many fellows would could be called rivals if it wasn't for the fact that Michael Rhodes has no rivals. The Philip Birdgarden's of this world grovel in the mud and slime at the foot of the colossus of my column. However, in the event of Christine making the wrong decision I could always see if Sarah will come along. She'd like the Elmer I'm sure, and I do believe Mondays are quite free (entry).

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Monday November 13, 1978

Bright, windy day. Sarah and I decided we should do something exciting and so at 12 we went to Da Mario's Pizzeria and noshed our heads off. Yes, dining out, lunching out ~ call it what you will ~ on a bloody Monday! It only cost us £1.70 each which is no great loss. Afterwards we both had our footwear repaired at the cobbler next to the restaurant, and we stood around, both bare foot, until about 1. My boots were re~vamped for £3.25. Bloody Hell, I'm going through money like Howard Hughes. (Did he actually spend money, or was he just a recluse? Oh, go on then, I'll say Paul Getty, just to be on the safe side). Money is still something of a novelty to me, and so you'll have to forgive me frittering it away so eagerly. Let's hope the passion will die before very long.

Speaking of passion ~ and who isn't these days? ~ Christine phoned this afternoon and we exchanged weekend reminiscences. Her coach, which left Victoria at about 5:30, went north via Sheffield, and they didn't get into Leeds until well after 11. How weird of our beloved National Coach service.

Tonight we endured three hours of the Royal Variety Performance which was transmitted live. It was in the presence of Queen Elizabeth The Queen Mother and at the finale she seemed to be touched by the loyalty and emotion of the generally nauseating cast. It worried me slightly. It looked like some sort of semi-official 'send off'. Does Lord Delfont think that perhaps Her Majesty won't be in a fit state to attend 1979's offering?

To bed at 12:31am

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