Wednesday October 22, 1980

_. Dark, damp, misty. Up at 7:10 with Dad. He went off to Otley to guard prisoners who would otherwise be left to their own devices owing to a prison officers 'go slow'.

To Leeds with Jim who, for two days now, has been relating the tale of 'Les Miserables' to little Jennie.

Aghast at the news that Lord Thomson of Fleet is selling The Times newspaper next year. This must be a death warrant for this fine newspaper. I am grief stricken. Before long we'll have nothing but 'The Sun'.

Sarah is miserable these days. ____________. Chippy saw her in the Shoulder last Thursday. _____.

Home at 6. Mama and I had dinner by candlelight, and Dad, the jailer, joined us just as we finished. Later, sat clutching Clementine Churchill, I was brought from my stupor by sweet Ally on the blower informing me that she needed to see me immediately. She arrived at 7:45 and out we went to the New Inn at 9:30. Our departure was delayed due to Prokoviev on the telly, with the added attraction of Princess Michael of Kent, who was briefly in view. George Howard, of the BBC, resembles a paraplegic toad.

To the New Inn at 9:30 with £2.60 in my pocket, but this went within half an hour. I was reduced to drinking half pints. Ally was treated [sic] to a packet of roast oxen crisps.

Home at 10:30 to see John Cleese interviewed by Michael Parkinson. He is playing Petruchio tomorrow and I cannot help feeling this might be a mistake. Will it be a 16th century Fawlty Towers?

-=-