Saturday February 20, 1982

 Sunny ansd bright. Masses of crumpets at breakfast time. Out at 12:30 to Bramley cemetery where we found John Rhodes's grave. After years of searching I have finally made contact with great-grandpapa. It was biting cold and so we didn't linger at the cemetery. We went to Hyde Terrace at 2 after looking at the antique shops on Burley Road and we found Susie looking well and glamorous. Lynn, Dave and Frances came too and we sat on the bed making noises at the baby, red faced and cheeky. Susie's teeth are shining bright and she told us that she cleans then eight times a day! She says Pete is now leaning towards Claire for a girl. She seems to think that the little beggar is female.

On to Thackley with Lynn, Dave and a snoozing Frances to Cheap 'n Cheerful. Not very good this week as most of the decent stuff has been sold. Lynn took a fancy to a wash stand but Dave wasn't enthusiastic. Back to Ash Tree Cottage for a quick change, &c. Out at 7:30 to see Dave Porritt about the wedding video. Then on to the Commercial [at Esholt] at 8 to join Lynn and Dave in the bar. Dave and Elaine Allinson came in until 11. As usual Elaine dominated the goings on and talked about everything from sex to sex. Lynn looked embarrassed. The booze flowed and we endured tales of Elaine's sexual antics and debated whether her 10 year-old daughter Samantha was about to menstruate for the first time. A dull looking couple on the next table sat spell-bound listening to tales of hanky panky from Rawdon to Menorca. My trousers saw fit to burst open [the fly is knackered] and I spent some time with a safety pin fumbling in the darkness of the gents toilet. 

To the Allinsons at Over Lane, Rawdon at 11 for corned beef sandwiches and more booze. I put back a quantity of Scotch and clowned around wrapping everyone in toilet paper. My recollections of the latter part of the evening are lost forever in the mists of oblivion. Ally was appalled at my behaviour and brought me home at 2am. I vomited in the garden and again later in the bath. I am a revolting and disgusting specimen.

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Friday February 19, 1982

 Cold and wet. Prince Andrew celebrates his twenty second birthday today on the high seas. The Union flag at the YP hung limp and wet. Let us hope that HRH is not similarly displayed.

Mum phoned to say that she and Papa are visiting Sue this lunchtime and so I decided not to go. Besides, it was raining, and the walk to Hyde Terrace holds no excitement.

News: The Times newspaper is knackered. Rupert Murdoch [a Jim Rawnsley look-alike] has tired of his ownership of England's greatest newspaper and has asked for 600 redundancies. Obviously, the [trade] unions are not too happy about this.

The future Marquess of Abergavenny, Guy Nevill, aged 35, has married Lady Beatrix Lambton, 32, daughter of the reprobate and lecher Antony Lambton, who disclaimed the earldom of Durham in 1970.

Home at 6:15 frozen solid. Ally, a vision in red, was waiting for my arrival. We ate avocado and prawns, homemade tomato soup, and lasagne, followed by chocolate 'Angel Delight'. Oh, then cheese and biscuits. A splendid and luxurious dinner. 

Watched some TV. Ally finished 'Woman in White' by Wilkie Collins. Splashed in the bath [together] and to bed.

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Thursday February 18, 1982

 No desire to get out of bed, but I forced myself. It's no good giving in at twenty six. On the bus a chap in front of me was reading a tabloid newspaper. I raged at the sight of the Princess of Wales, clad in a bikini, walking on a beach on the Caribbean holiday island where she and the prince are staying with the Romseys. Of course it was the Daily Star. Such an invasion of their privacy is unspeakable. The poor princess must be hurt deeply by the constant battering from the gutter press.

No visit to Sue today. They clean the ward on Mondays and Thursdays. I went to buy a demijohn at Boot's and escaped at 4, thanks to Ray Buckton and his friends.

At home a letter awaiting me from Michael English, MP. It reads: 'Thank you for your letter of February 9. Actually you may recall that the Swedish monarchy, like the pre-16th century English monarchy did not allow women to succeed at all. In the matter of equality of the sexes ours was far in advance of theirs until three years ago when they changed their laws and brought it completely up to date by, in addition to doing what we already do, making it completely equal as between the two sexes. I note your views but think that in this day and age it can only be regarded as unfair that a girl born as heir to Prince Charles and ultimately to the Crown, should perhaps [their is no certainty about these things] should be pushed out of the succession by the subsequent birth of a younger brother, maybe many years later. Yours sincerely, Michael English'.

This is all very well, but it doesn't answer my probing letter and just skirts over the issue. It was good of him to answer. I now eagerly await the PMs answer.

To Morrison's at 5. We spent £14 on provisions. Home at 7 to watch 'Top of the Pops' while devouring salad sandwiches.

Dave G phoned enquiring about Susie. Garry, he says, is now a postman, and no doubt growing a large moustache and cultivating militant tendencies. Better than the dole.

Ally went off to bed exhausted at 9:20 leaving me watching Cliff Michelmore making a programme about 'Tonight', a news programme which ran from 1957 to 1965. I remember that John as a child was obsessed with the theme tune. Bed 10:30.

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Wednesday February 17, 1982

 Cold and frosty. Went off to Leeds on a smoke-filled bus. YP even more dismal. Kathleen was dark and pensive. It's obvious that Carol J has told K[athleen] of our coming absence to attend Sarah & Trevor's wedding.

Sat with my cup of tea reading the Times. Margaret Thatcher had her weekly audience with Her Majesty last night, no doubt taking along my letter on the succession bill in her handbag. If I fail to receive any satisfactory answers from the MPs I'll go right to the top and communicate with the poor, overworked monarch.

Wernt to see Sue at 2. She was busy making toys. So far she's knitted a blue elephant and a bright red, squinting rabbit. She informed me that she may only be five days over her due date, and not two weeks as she first suspected. This means they may well leave her until February 26 before inducing the little terror. On top of this she looked bright. We laughed at the pigeons on her hospital window sill. Even they looked pregnant.

Home at 6 to fish in a shrimp sauce with Piglet. Our tranquility was disrupted at 7:30 by Paul Calvert, who burst in with a colleague armed with boxes of gadgets, and they spent two hours trying to sell us a Kirby vacuum cleaner which also shampoos carpets, hangs pictures, converts into a speedboat, plays 'the Blue Danube' and mixes a good vodka-based cocktail, and all for a mere £400. It was very uncomfortable. I didn't enjoy the evening. I do not like salesmen. Ally bubbled and asked many delving questions, whilst I sat mute. We opened some lager and got the chaps pissed, well slightly anyway. They went off at about 11 without a sale. We took to our bed.

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Tuesday February 16, 1982

 Cold and frosty. Gloom at the YP. Well, not so much gloom as just bloody boredom. The frost had also penetrated the library because Kathleen senses the re-emergence of Mrs Slocombe in Sarah's affections. It's like Louis XIV's court with all the intrigue. Can't do with it myself.

Went to see Susie at 2pm. She was spread, like a beached walrus, upon a bed with headphones clamped over her ears soaking up Radio One. She was pleased to see me and is bearing up remarkably after almost a fortnight of incarceration. I had some prawn cocktail crisps, and she had pop-corn. Her blood pressure remains disgustingly high, and she had been waiting to see a doctor since 9am. I had to leave her at 3 and she waddled to the lift to see me off the premises. When will baby Nason come?

Back to the YP for afternoon tea at 3, and escaped at 4:30. I had to walk to the bus station to get out of Leeds. The continuing and apparently endless rail strike goes on. It was all on the news tonight, but I do not understand. 

Horrified to read in the Daily Telegraph that Canada say they will give equal rights to women with regard to the proposed succession to the throne changes even if Britain does not go ahead, so that one day Canada and Britain could have different monarchs. We won't dare risk the break up of the Commonwealth and so  I suppose this threat is a good weapon for Michael English to wield. Meanwhile, the Prince and Princess of Wales are off to the Bahamas for a holiday, traveling incognito as Mr and Mrs Hardy.

Home at 6:15 slightly ruffled by the journey. Dined by candlelight with Possum. Ally tired tonight. We have been over doing things somewhat. We watched a good Australian film at 7 and seriously thought about bed afterwards. 

Mum and Dad are furious at Lynn's indecision about the house at Pool. Dad came out with 'a woman's word is her bond'. All good stuff. We sat and ate Ally's chocolate heart and went off to bed to avoid the 'Play for Today' on the BBC which looked horrendous.

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