Thursday May 3, 1979

_. General Election. Dad got me out of bed at 5:40am and then went out on very early duty to guard the polling station at Oxford Road School.

At five minutes to seven I took Dad's large bicycle and pedalled to Hawksworth village and cast both my votes for the Conservative party. Giles Shaw the parliamentary candidate and old Mr Freeman, the municipal candidate. I was the first person to vote at the polling station. Cycled back to breakfast with Mother and Susan. Yes, my mother emerged from her bed. I haven't seen her up so early since Christmas.

To the YP with Jim (Rawnsley) and the delightful Jennie. An interesting day at the office. Kathleen is convinced that tomorrow we will have a hung parliament and is convinced that one party with a big, working majority will never happen again. "You have to face the facts, Michael," she intoned: "the vast majority of the British public want a middle-of-the-road type of government with a re-emergence of the Liberal party." I cannot see this wishy-washy attitude catching on at all.

Sarah and I went to Len's Bar for lunch. _________.

Home at 5pm in a snow storm. Yes, snow. Bought a bottle of Cinzano and twenty cigs and wished a 'Merry Christmas' to the silly sods out walking dogs. Quite freezing cold.

Mum was in a nasty temper and we argued like rat and dog (sic). Lynn and Dave B arrived at 6:30 followed by Jim N, Margaret and Julie N at 9 o'clock.

From the very start of the election programme on the BBC it was obvious to all that Margaret Thatcher will be prime minister tomorrow. The swing to the Conservative party was something in the region of five or six per cent throughout the nation. I didn't feel particularly pissed but throughout the night we consumed a vast reservoir of alcohol. Lynn was invited to stay the night, but they left at about 4:30am, and poor, dejected Labour supporter and Jim Callaghan fan Jim Nason went weeping on his way at 5:30. Mum and Dad went off to bed and I cleared some of the debris to the sound of screaming birds in the snow-covered trees. Then, as if empowered by some superior force, I grabbed my jacket, with the stuffed bird stitched to the shoulder, my Mark Phillips style flat cap, and bottle of 55p pomagne, and walked to Ivory Towers, about six miles away, for breakfast with Delia and Sarah.

(Now see the following entry)


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