Wednesday May 2, 1979

_. Yes, to get back to David Steel. His father, the Venerable Enoch Steel, was Moderator of the General Assembly of the Church of Scotland, 1974-75. Margaret Thatcher's dad was a Lincolnshire grocer, and of course Jim Callaghan didn't have a father. Well, of course, he did have a father, but it seems that Mr Callaghan Snr, a naval man, had a woman in every port.

The Queen will be chewing on her royal finger nails today. Will it be Jim or Margaret? I suppose she'd like it to be dear old Alec [Douglas] Home tottering up the steps into the palace every Tuesday, or even Sir Harold [Wilson]. I believe she was quite fond of that pipe-smoking vagabond in the Gannex raincoat.

Sleet and snow again. December-type weather, in fact. Delia sent me a blue carnation to wear in my coat. Poor Sarah C's view of politics is that "they are all as bad as each other" but I'm sure she'd rather sleep with Max Bygraves than vote Labour. She'd also have David Steel castrated.

David G phoned. I suggested they come over on Saturday. Alison D will be here for the weekend because she is having an interview at Bradford Area Health Authority next Tuesday. So what looked like a tranquil weekend ahead is now developing into a full-scale orgy of booze and blondes. I'm not complaining though.

Dearest mother was in one of her foul, offensive, almost Mussolini-like tempers and I had little to do with her this evening. Mrs Thatcher isn't the only Iron Lady around here. Mother is more formidable than Leonid Brezhnev, Amy Carter, Lena Zavaroni, and President Tito all put together.

To bed at 11:50pm. Dad is going to wake me at 6am because I want to be the first in out polling station. Hip Hip.

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