Saturday May 19, 1979

_. Graham woke us first at about 9am. He was one his way to a piss-up at Heathrow Airport. Pete & I stayed in bed until about 11. We lads are in Graham's room which resembles a hospital ward with beds lined across the room. David isn't feeling at all well and he stayed in his bed until about 1 o'clock.

We went down to the Plough Inn at Itchen Abbas, and onto another pub at Ovington (the Bush?) David joined us at the second pub, in the garden, where we had ploughman's lunches and drank iced Pernod. We joked about Lynn's pregnancy and the baby has already been christened 'Hylda Baker'.

At 2:30 we went into Winchester to buy a bottle of Pernod for tonight's party. Alison and I walked huddled together like doves much to the amusement of Lynn who views our new found friendship with scepticism.

Back to Alison's where we sprawled on the lawn. Out at 7:30 to the party which was held at the home of her boss, Graham Smith, and partner Charlotte, in Winchester. On arrival we found Charlotte reclining on a sofa, cat on knee, allowing the feline to drink the contents of her wine glass. A foul display.

Most of the guests seemed to be considerably older than us. Even geriatric in some cases. Ate and drank to bursting point. Lynn was the life and soul of the evening. We left at about 4am for Alison's. She was furious about the evening._______. At Chillandham Cross we couldn't get in the house. We fell about in the garden quite hopelessly. Inside, we listened to records, drank tomato soup, and a bottle of gin in the space of 45 minutes.

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Friday May 18, 1979

_. Heavy rain. Took a half-day. Met Jacq at 12 and went to the Ostler's for a few drinks, sharing her gaily coloured umbrella. She can read me like a book, and says I only want a girl with whom to go out and get totally pissed with.

On to the HMV record shop where I bought a Three Degrees LP for Ally. Then to Len's Bar until 3. Felt quite pissed afterwards. Jacq drove me home in her wreck of a car and stayed to tea.

At 5:30 after chucking a few things into a bag I set off with Sue and Peter to Ally's in Winchester. Had a terrific hangover en route and felt quite ghastly. We broke the journey at a pub called 'Crossroads' down near Northampton. Arrived at Martyr Worthy at 11:30. It was a delight to see Ally again. She gave me headache pills, and then played the Three Degrees album. Lynn & David arrived at midnight and after a period of nudging, giggles and whispers they announced that Lynn is probably expecting a baby in January. Had a few dinks. We were all entertained by Graham Dixon's endless chatter. Bed by 2am --ish.

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Thursday May 17, 1979

_. I vowed to Dave Wainwright that the next time he saw me at Oakwood Hall I would be accompanied by something called a 'girlfriend' ~ and I meant every word of my vow.

Jim and Margaret came at 9, with Julie. Watched a Rock Hudson film on BBC2. To bed with Richard III.

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Wednesday May 16, 1979

_. John Wayne, the great American actor, and something of an institution, is dying. He probably won't see the end of the month. Our friends in America, it seems, are becoming quite hysterical at the thought of Mr Wayne's coming departure to that great big cattle ranch in the sky. A growing dread is seizing everyone. I do find his films very likeable, and his roles are always endearing but he is no Laurence Olivier, is he?  Just imagine John Wayne playing Richard III or that nice gentleman in 'Pride and Prejudice'  - Mr Darcy.

Goodnight. To bed with Richard III.

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Tuesday May 15, 1979

_. Had a headache this afternoon. A rarity for me. I am reminded of when I was an small child because on reflection my young boyhood was one of throbbing pain in the head. In fact, I was a sickly, little individual.

It was the State Opening of Parliament this morning. The Queen looks odd wearing spectacles and the Imperial State Crown. One would think HM might lay hands on contact lenses. As to the contents of the speech, I completely agree with Margaret's package. The budget is set for June 12, and the tax cuts will be revealed on that date. I am so happy about everything. The Labour party is now in chaos and disarray. Callaghan may still be the party leader, but for how long? Already we have Wedgwood Benn baying from the Left and to be honest I do hope he succeeds in his ambition to take the party leadership because who, at the next election, could cast a vote for Labour with the knowledge that Tony Benn could be put into No. 10? He has set Labours chances back 20 years.

Dave G phoned. He cannot make it to Alison's 21st at the weekend. To bed with Richard III. Fuming that  the BBC didn't show a re-run of the state opening in full in the evening, for the benefit of the masses at work. The pageant was of course televised live, but who could possibly be at home to watch other than a few under fives and the men on social security?

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Monday May 14, 1979

_. At 1pm I met Jacq and handed over a blouse that she'd purchased from mum's catalogue. She has just returned from Salou with Cheryl. "It's like Ibiza" she said. "Nowehere can possibly be like Ibiza" quoth I.

I am sure that when I have an entry in 'Who's Who' the section stating recreations will simply say 'Ibiza'.

Queen Silvia of Sweden gave birth to a son yesterday but the poor boy will never be king due to an alteration to the Swedish constitution which has made his 2 year-old sister, Victoria, the crown princess. The idea of the first born inheriting the crown will play havoc with the dynasty, and feel sure it is a big mistake. King Carl Gustav can hardly agree with this new fangled idea because he has four older sisters. The eldest, Princess Margaretha, is married to a Bradford chap, John Ambler.

Home at 5. Went down the lane wearing leather gloves and carrying a large plastic bucket. For what, you ask? Well, I gathered a load of fresh nettle heads and set about making a gallon of nettle wine. The house stank of rotting vegetation, and the pan was stained by the heavy green sludge. I am sure the finished wine will be exquisite.

Whilst devouring our dinner something quite dreadful occurred. Papa discovered the remains of a boiled centipede in his cauliflower cheese. The discovery of this apparently insignificant myriapod caused nausea and panic to reign. The four of us clamoured for the door, leaving the half eaten dinner on the table top, and of course the corpse of our dear friend, Clarence.

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Sunday May 13, 1979

_. 4th Sunday after Easter.

Sat in a deckchair in the garden reading 'Richard III' swinging my ancient knees. I cut the lawns, which took me just over an hour. Tortuous endurance. It was about six inches long .... the grass that is.

Mum baked herself all day in the sun and by tea time she resembled something of a mix between a lobster and the Rev Ian Paisley.

Sue and Pete were out all day no doubt copulating in some remote Yorkshire dale, or boosting the profits of some local ale-house.

Relieved that I'm not living in England in the 1480s. The horror of Reginald Reginald Bosanquet reading 'News at 10' and Esther Rantzen's ugly mush pale into insignificance when one thinks of the life and times Edward V endured.

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Saturday May 12, 1979

_. At noon I went into Bradford and paid Michelle £650 for four holidays to sunny Ibiza. Took cheques with me because the cash would have been far too tempting. I could easily have ended up with a second hand Datsun and three Chinese prostitutes, which I might have regretted later. The girls in WH Smith's Travel are sweet and they giggle and titter like fifth formers. They say Denise is in the Greek islands on business. Home at 2pm.

Watched Arsenal beat Manchester United in the FA Cup final (3-2) at which the Prince of Wales put in an appearance. Countess Desiree Rosenborg, a cousin of the Queen of Denmark, is now rumoured to be the 'ideal' match for HRH. whether Charles has ever met his Danish kinswoman I don't suppose matters to the gentlemen of the Press.

Read 'Richard III' and watched a 1930s Erroll Flynn epic 'Captain Blood'. Is it true what they say about Erroll Flynn?

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Friday May 11, 1979

_. Mum phoned me at the office to say my national savings certificates arrived this morning and at 12:45 she and Dad brought them to Leeds so that I can cash them. That's £120 towards Ibiza '79.

Spent some time in the library and took out a couple of sizeable volumes. "Richard III" by Paul Murray Kendall and "Bloody Mary" by Carolly Erickson, a biography of Mary I.

Later I started on Richard III which is a very interesting account. He wasn't the crippled monster one imagines. Bloody Shakespeare should have thrown all his considerable energies into bricklaying or dabbling in watercolours because his historical plays have maligned more innocent characters and distorted history on a massive scale. Especially Plantagenet history, which was so blackened in the Tudor era, and this has stuck down the centuries.

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Thursday May 10, 1979

_. Cold day. Wet too. The soggy daffodils are retreating at speed back into their bulbs. Old Wordsworth would have beheld a 'host of running, wet daffodils'.

Susan seems much improved. She tells me that staying at home with mother all day long is driving her crazy. Mother is quite insane. Edgar Allen Poe would have found material for a dark, gripping tale after spending a morning in the company of Nora Rhodes at Pine Tops.

Mrs Thatcher has been prime minister for a whole week. Lord Soames is the new Lord President of the Council, but who is the government chief whip?

To the dentist at 5pm (Rawdon) and find myself with a new dentist. What has become of old Hough? The young, moustachioed guy prodded around in my cavities and cleaned my crumbling teeth and charged me £2 for five minutes work. That's me until November. Left in pouring rain at 5:10 for home.

Jim, Margaret and Julie came at 9. Retired at 11:30.

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Wednesday May 9, 1979

_. I am putting on weight in the wrong places. The very thought of spending the rest of my life in rotund misery is much more frightening than the prospect of the coming holocaust due to the failure of Cyrus Vance's SALT2 agreement. For a one-time slim-line Adonis  it's harrowing watching the numbers on the bathroom scales moving up and up. So, the fight back begins today. I am cutting down on my lunches and my beer intake is to be reduced drastically. I want to be on top form for Ibiza in eight weeks time.

It was a warm and sunny day. Mum and Susan sat in the garden. At the YP I spent the day, again, adjusting the files with the new government appointments. Cabinet ministers were sworn in at the palace yesterday afternoon.

At 2pm I went over to the library in town, but after an hour came back unable to make a decision on which books to choose. Glanced at "The Lives of the Queens of England", an ancient tome, but decided against it. It's probably a volume of historic poofs down the ages. Oh, and on the subject of our gay friends, the trial of Jeremy Thorpe has started at the Old Bailey. My great fear is that old Mr Justice Cantley will not survive long enough to send the disgraced former MP to the gallows. (Well, why not? They hanged Mr Bhutto.)

I have it on good authority from a man on the YP that Marion Thorpe is a lesbian, and that the object of her obsession is none other than FW ______. If this is so I can see why Mrs Thorpe has behaved with an almost light hearted indifference through the period of Jeremy's humiliation and disgrace.

Poor Uncle Tony (Gadsby) failed in his quest to become a Liberal councillor - by about 150 votes. Poor man. He worked so hard too.

Mum and Dad went to dinner at Lynn & Dave's. I watched TV with Sue & Pete. Bed at 12:15am.

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