Thursday January 14, 1982

 Still cold. YP fun. Rail strike Day 2, and so left at 3:45 again. Saw Delia in the foyer who kissed me ____________. 

Home for 5. Ally and I went to Morrison's early for our weekly provisions. Back at 6:30 we had curry and noodles on trays in front of the TV. Top of the Pops, David Attenborough talking about hedgehogs [very good], and Shoestring. Finally, Lord Harewood talking about his apparently dismal life. _______. George Harewood said, referring to his relationship with his first wife, that they get on quite amicably and met recently at 'my third sons wedding'. That's another Lascelles offspring to marry in secret. James Lascelles married a Yank in 1973, and produced a daughter, Sophie, six months later. Viscount Lascelles married the mother of his two children in 1978, and now Jeremy has wed, but to who?

Phoned Cousin Jackie at 7 and arranged to go over next Tuesday. She has a new boyfriend, Barry, a weight-lifter in the building trade.

To bed by 11:30.

-=-

Wednesday January 13, 1982

 Frost and ice again. National train strike, and so I set off slightly earlier prepared to do battle on the buses but found they were not overcrowded.

Worked through at lunchtime so enabling me to escape at 4pm. The bus was fully of schoolboys with greasy hair and spots effing and blinding.

Home before Ally and to pass the time I peeled potatoes and bashed around in the kitchen like a gourmet.

Mark Thatcher: lost

News: The prime minister's son is missing in the Sahara desert with no water and a French tart. Denis Thatcher has flown to Algiers to join the search and poor Mrs T is in Downing Street 'strained and red eyed'. The boy hasn't been heard or seen of since Friday and his fate does indeed look bleak. These Thatchers are a funny lot. The girl, Carol, writes for an obscure Aussie rag and rarely comes home, and Mark hasn't done a decent days work since mummy assumed the mantle of Tory leader. Mind you, I suppose it's better than a Baldwin situation. Poor Stanley had his own sons facing him across the Commons on the Labour opposition benches.

The TV is diabolical. Night after night of endless quiz and chat shows aimed at the old and greedy. The same old mundane faces of so-called superstars in the shape of Ted Rogers, Arthur Askey, Roy Jenkins and Jimmy Tarbuck, &c. I could be physically sick. Ah well, I suppose it helps to take our minds off the continuing decline of our great country. Sarah announced she is going to commit suicide when the miners go on strike and bring on the dark nights with power cuts. I am looking forward to the long dark nights, when the TV stands cold and young couples have little else to do but climb beneath the sheets to keep warm. Perhaps the population will receive a much needed boost because by the look of the '81 census the population is declining and we'll soon be going the same way as the dinosaur.

We had dinner by candlelight and afterwards Ally went up to the bathroom to shave her legs. She likened them to those of a giant panda. Her cold is subsiding but the catarrh and phlegm is still evident.

We giggled on the sofa, behaving like fools. She has an infectious giggle. I just collapse amongst the cushions when she gets going.

-=-

Tuesday January 12, 1982

 Warmer day, but still freezing though. We lingered in bed and only struggled out at 7:30 for our boiled eggs and toast.

Ally is sproggy, but feeling better than last night. She complains that she is permamently ill with one thing or another and I put it down to our circumstances. The after effects of marriage. 

Rabbit pie?

Bessie has told Ally that eating rabbit can be the cause of miscarriages in pregnancy, and that a doctor told a friend of hers with gynaecological problems to abstain from the bunny, and sure enough she produced a healthy offspring. We don't believe a word of it, but it has put us off rabbit pie for life.

YP the same. Kathleen is going through another trauma. An aunt has collapsed and is near to death with an exploded duodenal ulcer, and to make matters worse, on Saturday she took her mother to the MFI warehouse to look at hideous modern furniture, and to take her mind off the sick aunt, only for the hapless mother to fall head long into a kitchen unit knocking herself insensible. Should both mother and aunt be called to that great formica warehouse in the sky it will be goodbye to Kathleen until at least October.

Phoned Susie at 1pm. She was lunching with Mum, Dad and Pete. She thanked me for the list of Christian names and she surprised me by saying she has drawn up a short list from it which will accompany her to Hyde Terrace. I had a word with Mum and she says the four of them will come for dinner on Friday. It will be the last time we see Sue at Club Street before her confinement.

News: the papers are empty and dull. Lord Poltimore is engaged. So too is the Hon Paul Chetwynd-Talbot, who sounds very much like an Evelyn Waugh character.

Home to a fried creation at 5:45. Whilst I was in the bath Mum phoned Ally and announced that Uncle Tony and Tim are to be made redundant. Poor Tony. Tim too, newly married, and now joining the ranks of the 47,000,000 unemployed.

Have I said that Ally is keeping a journal too? We are both writing furiously at this moment. How will they compare, I wonder?

We went up with our books again and snuggled down. Bliss.

-=-

Monday January 11, 1982

 Deep frost. Up at 7:20. Couldn't get out of bed. Ate piping hot porridge and went out to de-ice the car which was hidden beneath six inches of solid ice. Kissed Ally goodbye and went off with my cheese sandwich at 8:00. YP late.  

Thinning Diana? Poppycock.

News: See in the hideous trashy papers that the Princess of Wales is refusing to eat a proper meal for the fear of putting on too much weight and, according to Princess Michael of Kent, the Royal Family are extremely worried about a thinning Diana and her unborn child. Poppycock. She seems to be a sensible girl and I'm sure she wouldn't be placing the baby HRH in jeopardy. Besides, they wouldn't let her. 

Peregrine Worsthorne, in the Sunday Telegraph, says that at the death of George VI, 30 years ago next month, panic set in when his widow, the Queen Mother at 51 thought she might be pregnant. We would have had a 'pregnant pause' for six or seven months, and if she had given birth to a son then the infant would have succeeded to the throne, displacing Elizabeth II. I bet they were shrieking with laughter at Sandringham over that one. Yes, women can give birth at 51, but not the Queen Mother and certainly not after a gap of 21 years after the previous confinement.

Other news: Sir Roy Jenkins [Prime Minister 1984-2001] has been offered Glasgow Hillhead as an Alliance candidate. The by-election is caused by the death of Lord Strathclyde's heir, Sir Thomas Galbraith, who was knighted on Jan 1 and who died on Jan 2. It will be the first foray of the SDP into Scotland and may not be the landslide in Woy's direction as they seem to think. Watched the news and felt sick watching Woy grinning like the Cheshire Cat. Shirley Williams is now on crutches after an incident with a sleigh on Christmas Day. I suppose the SDP publicity machine is hinting that our Shirl is one of Santa Claus's little helpers. A Yuletide fairy. 

Spoke to Mum this afternoon. They are showing interest in the purchase of a pub at Cattall, near York.

Susie has high blood pressure and is suffering from dizzy spells. Mum says they'll have her in hospital and bring on the baby if this continues. Not a good thing.

Had a gin and tonic and took to our bed at 11:30 with Agatha Christie and Princess Margaret. Ally feeling groggy. Not sure whether it's the after effects of the gin or catarrh. Her eyes are heavy and she is decidedly pale.

-=-