Tuesday November 10, 1981

 _. At the YP. Gloom. Kathleen was sneezing and so the library was a major quarantine area. Surgical masks. I kid you not. 

Morning papers: The Princess of Wales has been 'under the weather' since her Cenotaph appearance. The EP is treating it very seriously - a tragedy in the making. I did some mournful research for them. Diana's great-grandmother, Margaret, Viscountess Althorp [1869-1906] died in childbirth. The baby survived and married Henry Douglas-Home.

Home at 6. Laid the stair carpet and made the place look a bit less like a Polish refugee camp, or an Afghan guerilla base in the foothills. I placed an old copy of the Times on each step to give the carpet added thickness. It's just like an Axminster now. 

At 11:30pm the phone rang. A voice said: 'Hello Sir. It's Buckingham Palace on the line. Will you accept a call?' It was Steve S. Tim then came on [pissed] to a background of noises reminiscent of Belle Vue Zoo. He was phoning to thank us for the birthday card.

Bed at 12.

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Monday November 9, 1981

 _.To the Central Library at lunchtime. More art books.

No donkey jacket?

The brouhaha over Michael Foot's Cenotaph gaffe received marvellous coverage in the morning papers. One publication likened Foot to an 'Irish navvy' which as you can imagine has upset all the Irish MPs. Mrs Foot, defending her husband, is of the opinion that all great men throughout history have been generally of scruffy appearance. Unsure about this. Did we ever see Napoleon in a donkey jacket and wellies? Cleopatra in pre-shrunk faded jeans? [I was tempted to suggest snakeskin trousers, but that would have been unfair]. Louis XIV was always at home in a boiler suit too. [That's enough scruffy historical figures - Ed].

Home at 6. Continued painting flowers - a vast improvement. Still painting the hallway too. Dave G phoned at 8. He asked us to go to Stockport on Dec 12 to dine at Steak Kebabs.

Bed with Stanley Baldwin.

-=-

Sunday November 8, 1981

 _. 21st Sunday after Trinity - Remembrance Sunday

The phone woke us at 10:30. It was Mum reminding us to watch the remembrance service from the Cenotaph. We sat with eggs on toast watching the age-old ritual from London. The Queen laying yet another wreath. The Princess of Wales was in animated conversation with King Olav of Norway on the balcony of the Home Office. The Queen Mother always has a wistful, teary look on these occasions. The pin-striped Cabinet ministers had front row positions but it was Michael Foot's spectacular appearance upon which every eye focused. The Leader of Her Majesty's Opposition was wearing a shabby duffle coat, buttoned up wrong, and checked tie. And was he wearing Hush Puppies? If his appearance wasn't bad enough, he walked away from the Cenotaph after placing his wreath in the manner of a man leaving a parking meter. No court bow. No reverence. This is the Labour party for you. 

Harry.

Spent the day painting the hall and staircase. Broke off at 4:30 to watch an old film. Henry Fonda [aged 17] in 'Jesse James' [1939]. 

I must say something about Uncle Harry. Last week Uncle Bert went up to Whitehaven from Nottingham to see his brother [Harry], only to find he was away for the weekend with his 25 year-old girlfriend. Harry is 59 and he's apparently taken up with a comely Cumbrian yoga teacher. On finding Harry's mobile home unoccupied Bert didn't hesitate to break in and spend a solitary weekend on Harry's hospitality. Dad says we shouldn't put too much emphasis on Bert's version of events and details of Harry's new love. Uncle Bert isn't the most reliable news agency.

Dined on mounds of steak and kidney pudding, and collapsed afterwards. Ally phoned Bessie. They are going to Cyprus on Nov 11. Ally's cousin Kathryn Mogford gave birth to a son Adam, recently. Not an obnoxious name.

-=-