Thursday October 29, 1981

 _. It wasn't as wet today, but the rain came down at the vital moments when I was outside scantily clad. When I say vital, I of course mean crucial. 

Saw in the Times that Denys Gravenor Rhodes has died. Distantly related, no doubt. He was married to the Hon Margaret Elphinstone, the Queen's cousin and bridesmaid. She is one of the few Rhodeses in the peerage, with the exception of the Rhodes baronet and Lord Rhodes of Saddleworth, KG [who is a life peer].

Brisk walk at lunch. I spotted Christine Braithwaite in Albion Street, but she had gone before we could speak. 

Mum phoned me at 4. Dave called in to see them yesterday evening and then Lynn phoned her at 8 and was chatty and normal but made no apology for her peculiar behaviour. Today Mum and Susie lunched at Burley, and so the breach might be healed.

Spaghetti with Ally. She's still wearing my woollen sweater. 

News: The Princess of Wales received the freedom of Cardiff and made a speech, partly in Welsh. I must say what a fortunate young man the Prince of Wales is.

-=-

Wednesday October 28, 1981

 _. A dark, wet day. Spent some time with Bob Cockroft. I gave him a good story for the People column.  Lady Ropner, wife of Sir John Ropner, of Thorp Perrow, has given birth to a son and heir in London. Sir John, 44, has four daughters and the baronetcy is now saved from extinction.

Stayed in the office at lunchtime. Something of a fast day, because I forgot to bring sandwiches, and because Margot is off we had no regular supply of tea and coffee. Have I said why Margot is missing? She is in hospital having her toe nails removed. Ugh. Shazzo called in and I invited her to ours on Saturday.

Home at 6, half drowned. Ally's wet clothes were piled in the doorway, and various items were trailed across the house. She was in a heap on the settee in one of my woolly pullovers, and nothing else. We had a fried concoction. 

The royal Welsh, or perhaps squelch programme continues. Despite heavy rain the Welsh have given the Waleses a great welcome. Diana looked splendid in limp ostrich feathers very much in the style of the Queen Mother.

-=-

Tuesday October 27, 1981

 _. New Moon.

Pepys.

Why do I keep a journal? They say it's done for reasons of vanity, and so I certainly must be vain. I remember feeling such a thrill last August [1980 that is] when I returned from Ibiza to be told that Uncle Bert had stumbled upon my journal whilst staying at Pine Tops, and found it enjoyable reading. Most people would feel affronted or embarrassed to have had their journal discovered and read, but because Uncle Bert had found it interesting I felt quite the opposite. This is vanity. And of course I love wallowing in the past and what better way can one do this than by keeping a journal? I have undertaken a mathematical exercise. Selecting a typical day in July I counted all the words of the page and multiplied them by 365 and then multiplied that number by 9. It transpires that since January 1, 1973, I have have written approximately 1,235,160 words. Looking at the introduction of the Pepys Diary I see that in nine and a half years old Sam wrote approximately 1,250,000 words. I have spent nine years writing about nothing and Samuel Pepys had such great tales to tell. What have I had to offer? I repeat the same old complaints year after year, and tell the same tale of drudgery with increasing regularity.

Today the office was slightly more tolerable. Sarah slightly better. Took a brisk walk at lunch time. Traversing Park Square. 

Home in one piece, which was almost not the case when two Bradford lasses started brawling on the upper deck of the bus. Handbags were flying. Some of these Bradford girls are like rugby prop forwards.

We had a stew and dumplings and watched 'Brideshead Revisited'. Read Baldwin. 

Spoke to Mum at 8:30. Still no word from Lynn. Dad is marvellous about Jack Andrews and says he will go alone one afternoon.

The Prince and Princess of Wales are in Wales on a three day tour of the principality. The princess seemed overwhelmed. They had a tumultuous welcome, which included a visit to Carnarvon Castle and a meeting with Lord Snowdon.

Bed by 11.

-=-

Monday October 26, 1981

 _. Bank Holiday in the Republic of Ireland

Unspeakable day at the YP. You have no idea how hideous it is working in an office full of women. I'd love to get out, but in these days of 27 million unemployed I'm in no position to quit. 

Saw Jacq in town. She's coming to ours on Saturday.

Ally phoned Mum, back from Northumberland, and was caught in the act and reprimanded by Derek [Jenkins] for making a private call. Ally has asked Papa to accompany her to Jack Andrews garage and look savage and menacing. He has agreed, but first he wants us to draw up a history of the saga of our dealings with the Citroen garage. It makes frightening reading. Frank has been consulted. Audrey has got to go. We are going to be carless. Is this the start of our fall into mediocrity? Are we to be trapped in Bradford 7 forever?

Home at 6 to a depressed Ally. She's sick of Derek, sick of the car and sick of Lynn's behaviour. We had chicken [again]. Phoned Mum and Dad at 6:30.

News: a terrorist bomb in London's Oxford Street has killed a bomb disposal PC. Diana starts work tomorrow with a visit to Wales. The poor princess has received her first bad press with the recent stag killing mularkey. She must be a worried girl with such responsibilities at 20. How many people could withstand it? Mrs Thatcher is still PM. I have no idea where the snake Geoffrey Rippon is lurking tonight.

-=-