Friday May 30, 1980

_. A healthy day considering we had the usual disgusting Thursday night. Hot day. Met Dave G from his train at 5:10pm and we walked across town to the Eagle on North St to be the first on the scene for Paul Vallely's farewell party. We crossed the threshold at 5:30 and remained until almost eleven in an assorted company ranging from the sweet Penny Wark to the mercenary, and tarty _______, fresh from a the Halifax Gossip or whatever, and a sordid affair with the exiled Lord Kagan. Spent some time chatting about the village of Dent with Geoff Winter, who was in the company of his common-law niece, Sue Tirpitz. Such a pleasant, drunken night. Onward to Paul's house at 11 with Dave, Penny and her boyfriend Paul, from Southampton. It was good to see Steve Sharp again. We stayed until one and we got a lift to Guiseley with the kindly John MacMurray [the best man Sarah Collis found and gave up]. He gave me a copy of Nasty Media's 'Spiked Copy'.

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Thursday May 29, 1980

_. Oak Apple Day

Sitting at my desk this morning my thoughts turned to Charles the Second on this, his 350th birthday. Sad that I found no sprig of oak to adorn my person on this occasion. He [Charles] hid in the boughs of an oak on this day in 1651 following his defeat at the Battle of Worcester. Until the mid Victorian period 'Oak Apple Day' was a day of celebration, but it's now largely forgotten.

To Ally's for steak this evening. She met me at 4:30 in Leeds [she'd been in town buying a birthday present for Catherine]. We went on to Rue Club via Pine Tops allowing me to gather a few personal effects to carry on to Bradford. After dinner we went to Oakwood Hall. A dull night really. The bar staff were serving dry Martini in a one sixth of a gill measure instead of the proper one third of a gill measure, and to make matters worse a fight broke out between a guy who looked like one of the Bee Gees and a skinhead type, and all because of a misplaced ice-cube. Home to Rue Club at 2:30. Bed. Lemonade.

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Wednesday May 28, 1980

_. Derek Naylor thinks that perhaps the Queen Mother is a bastard. I must have mellowed with the passing years because in times gone by I would have called Naylor out to fight a duel, or reeled in nausea. But Derek makes his comments in such a way that one cannot help but smile.

Ally is unwell. Her stomach is at fault. She slept through two hours of constant bombardment from me on the phone. She came over to ours at 5 to dine with Mama and Papa. No sooner had she eaten that she felt ill, again, and took to a bed in Sue's room for a couple of hours, leaving me with the journals of William Bagshaw Stevens.

Watched a Swedish epic [with sub-titles] on BBC2, and retired to bed with Stevens.

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Tuesday May 27, 1980

_. A batch of photographs arrived this morning. Met Ally in the Central at 1:45. No Kathleen or Sarah today. Delia is judging at the Wetherby Show, or something.

Prince Andrew has arrived at RAF Leeming near York for five months training. He is a midshipman learning to fly. Is it something royal princes should be doing? Remember William of Gloucester.

A royal mystery. It appears that the Earl of Strathmore, father of the Queen Mother, lied, for some inexplicable reason, when registering the birth of his daughter, in September, 1900. It is recorded on her birth certificate that Elizabeth Bowes Lyon was born at St Paul's Walden, Hertfordshire. This has been HM's acknowledged place of birth in all works of reference since. Her Majesty has even unveiled a plaque commemorating her birth at the church there. Now Clarence House has announced that in fact HM was born in London, at an undisclosed address. All the more intriguing because they don't reveal exactly where. They probably have no idea. Was the dear lady, the greatest Queen Consort this nation has ever known, perhaps born above a Chinese laundry in Wapping?

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