_. Warm day for the time of year, don't you think? Certain organs allegedly reporting the meteorological office say we are in for a 'White Christmas'. The last serious white Christmas was in 1970. John and I were doing paper rounds for James Bywater at the Quality House newsagent. We both fell off our bicycles in the ice on Hillway, Tranmere Park. Mum, that year, had a large party at which both Wilson and Rhodes relatives flocked. It was one of the last times I saw my cousin Sam. Uncle Harry and Mavis split up in February '71, and I haven't laid eyes on her since. Where is Uncle H? I really do miss him.
Busy day. No Kathleen. Sarah took a half-day. Spent the afternoon typing up the files of Foot's Shadow Cabinet appointments. I shudder at the thought of what damage this mob could do if they ever found office. Anthony Wedgwood Benn is conspicuous by his absence and I'm very easy uneasy about this. Like a phoenix he'll rise again. Most of Foot's appointments appear to be Welshmen. Will they LEEK some of Labour's secrets to the press? [Geddit?]
Spoke twice to Ally after work. I phoned her at 7 and she rang me at 8:30 to tell me that she had just heard on the radio that the Prince of Wales has taken up residence at Highgrove. At the mention of Buckingham Palace poor Ally almost fainted with expectancy thinking it was the engagement to Lady D.F.S.
Sat with Mum until Dad came in off duty at 10. She is sick and tired of his unsociable hours of work. They both pray for September 1982, when he retires.
In the news: 48 million IRA prisoners in Ulster are starving themselves to death because Mrs Thatcher has refused to give them the status of political prisoners. Let them die, that's what I say. The penultimate Duke of Portland has died only to be succeeded by his 83 year-old kid brother. Not a healthy situation.
To bed at 11:45 with Thomas Hardy.
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