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Wednesday March 12, 1980

_. A wet morning. To Leeds with Jim. He asked me to research information of the early life of William Hudson, Lord Mayor of Leeds 1977-8, whom he tells me in strictest confidence, has been nominated for an honour in the Queen's Birthday Honours list in June. He also says that the betting shop tycoon Jim Windsor, is also in the running for a gong from the fount of all honour. I have always assumed that one had to suck up to the prime minister when one fancied ones chances for an MBE, or life peerage, but evidently it's been James Rawnsley, Esq, all along.

I would never accept an MBE, or OBE for that matter. Such trinkets I associate with long serving executives at the local water authority, or school caretakers. And as for life peerages I'd no sooner join the likes of Lord George-Brown and Joe Kagan, than fly. Gone are the days when honours really were honours. It's the poor Queen I feel sorry for. How ghastly must it be for her, with those endless queues of social workers, and canteen supervisors, lining up for recognition?

I posted a letter to John and Maria telling them of my Easter plans. It was pouring with rain and so John MacMurray kindly offered to post it for me as he left the office.

Typed a letter to Ally tonight. She wanted information on the subject of George III's children.

At 9 I watched a new drama on BBC2 starring Kate Nelligan. Lots of bare buttock fondling.

Mum and Dad borrowed Pete's car and went to Morrison's.

-=-


Tuesday March 11, 1980

_. Jennie brought a magic set with her on the journey to Leeds this morning, and so we, her captured audience in the car, endured a Paul Daniels-like display. You know the sort I mean. Card tricks, and under which cup will you find the ball. Jim was so proud of her. The glow of pride on his face was so reminiscent of the shining adoration Winifred Wagner had for Adolf Hitler. Blinded by devotion. I do sincerely hope that when my time comes I will not be blinded by the faults and blemishes of my offspring.

YP uneventful. Lynne Bateson was very kind and tactful on the subject of Ally vomiting on her continental quilt last weekend. Lynne denies suffering any inconvenience because of it. I cannot help thinking that she is just being very kind. Anyway, I have invited her to Club St on April 5, and so she can seek vengeance there if she wishes.

A letter from Maria includes a couple of pages of scribble from JPH. The little lad is obsessed with lists, and I think he may have been severely influenced by the numerous shopping lists he's observed his mother writing. Dad collided with Molly somewhere in Guiseley today and she reminded him that Maria and the children and coming back to Yorkshire for Easter, without John. This means John will miss my 'silver jubilee' birthday party.

Good television this evening. A documentary on Graham Sutherland, the artist, whose painting of Winston so 'delighted' Winnie and Clem back in the 50s - not. The chap is obsessed by thorns and holes in drystonewalls. At 11:30 - an interview with Kingman Brewster, the US Ambassador to the Court of St James's. A excellent speaker. I decided that he should get on the next plane to Washington and put himself forward as a candidate in the coming presidential election. Surely, a better alternative to Ronald Reagan?

To bed at 12 o'clock.

-=-

Monday March 10, 1980

_. Up at 7. The central heating bangs and clatters these days and so I was brought to consciousness by a serenade of brass. Ally makes a perfect sleeping beauty. Coffee. To Leeds with Jim R and Jennie. Jim pays a small fortune to have his daughter privately educated, She is educated. One cannot deny that.

Uneventful day at the YP. President Tito 'Clings On'. The daughter born last week to the Duchess of Gloucester is to be called Lady Rose Victoria Birgitta Louise Windsor. The infant is twelfth in line of succession to the throne. The only other Rose in the Royal Family is of course Princess Margaret Rose, who was named after her aunt, Lady Rose Bowes Lyon, wife of Earl Granville.

Lounged in a hot bath to avoid a boring Panorama programme about civil defence.

-=-

Wednesday May 9, 1984

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds, &c Still dull outside. Who cares? Our alarm clock is on the blink and refuses to sound off. Samuel laid patiently...