Thursday February 10, 1983

 Phoned John. He says he will collect us at 7:30-ish tomorrow. He hasn't been in a pub for a week and a half. Janette was bright and cheerful. I hope they are happy.

I have a headache - a rare thing for me. Crumpets and lashings of tea. Ally is going to 'The Fiddler's' at lunchtime because Shirley is off to Ottawa to be a nanny.

A momentous day at the YP. I is rumoured that 18 journalists from across the YP and EP are to be given the chop. We are all summoned to a meeting next Tuesday to discuss the company affairs. Probably 10 per cent redundancies from across the board. I said gleefully that I would willingly go for redundancy. My colleagues were appalled by my flippancy, but of course they have no idea of my plans. Sarah went to pieces and left at 4 looking drawn and tense. Kathleen says she doesn't want me to leave, but knows Ally and I want to work together saying "why don't you get your names down on the waiting list with breweries?" I nearly dissolved. I suppose I should have said.

I am going to keep a list of things that our own 'Mrs Slocombe' is ignorant of. Two weeks ago it was badgers, and today it was Peter Tatchell, the _____ Militant Tendency Labour candidate for Bermondsey. How can someone who regularly indexes the YP not know Peter Tatchell? It terrifies me.

Home with a throbbing head. Ally on the settee with a white face and eyes like saucers. Not feeling too bright. We grovelled on the rug and contemplated food. Is it eggs again or sausages and beans? It's the latter. Ally, though tired, couldn't resist setting about ironing with her usual gusto. This week she must have ironed everything in the house. Afterwards we watched A.J. Cronin's 'The Citadel'.

We have forgotten most birthdays this year. Tomorrow (Uncle) John celebrates in Lanzarote. I do wish we could have remembered that one.

See on the news that a mass murderer in Muswell Hill has shoved sixteen bodies into a sewer outside his home. A proper good old fashioned murder for a change.

Should I be showing some concern for Prince Andrew's leaning towards the affections of buxom tarts? I do hope that the young chap is having a good time and doesn't intend making one the next Duchess of York. Koo Stark isn't bad.

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Wednesday February 9, 1983

 A letter arrived from Viking Taverns asking us to attend an interview at Hipperholme next Wednesday. My knees rattled together as I went off to my daily labours feeling much excitement. Poor Ally doesn't have any days owing and will have to approach the nauseating Derek. I sat smugly at the YP. I am going whether I get the Viking job or not. I have always vowed to be gone from the YP before my tenth anniversary, and that auspicious event occurs in October. Ally phoned this morning and spent ten minutes trying to persuade the switchboard to put her through. It's now policy to put no calls through to the library before 2pm - except for branch office calls. Such a bore.

To Greenhead's book shop. I'm obsessed with diaries: Leo Amery, Beatrice Webb, Noel Coward, Joseph Goebbels - I want them all. 

Today is National 'No Smoking' Day and to mark the occasion Mrs Slocombe sat blowing out smoke like the Vatican chimney on election night. Sarah's (illegible) is becoming too tiresome.

Tonight we ate baked potatoes with cheese and shrimps and yes, salad again. Goose pimples thinking about our interview. She hasn't told Derek yet.

Old Dame Eva Turner was the subject of 'This Is Your Life'. I escaped to the bathroom to avoid 'Dallas' and Ally took out the iron again. We are like a laundry here.

I don't discuss current affairs and my opinion of them these days, do I? Well, I'm very anti CND, and very anti Andropov, Foot and Haughey. I also fail to see why the kidnapping of a racehorse should be the main item on the 9 o'clock news. The forthcoming nuclear holocaust has been pushed into the background by this Irish 'equestriana'. The missing horse belongs to the Aga Khan. George Bush has been to see the PM. Should Ronald Reagan, 72, die in his sleep he'd be the most powerful chap to walk the earth since Michael Parkinson.

And so to bed.

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Tuesday February 8, 1983

 Snow on the ground though nothing drastic. I was laughing about something and Ally said I look like Jimmy Tarbuck. Oh dear. To the YP. I was summoned to the office of Mr Malcolm Barker _________. He wanted all the details on the Earl of Halifax and his offspring. (The Princess of Wales was last night at Garrowby to attend a charity function). I filled him in with the facts and he said, of the princess, "she is of course a cousin of Halifax, isn't she?" I said yes, but went away frowning. All the top aristocratic families can of course be linked somewhere. I snatched up Burke's (Peerage) and found that HRH and Halifax are 6th cousins both having a common ancestor in a Duke of Gordon, and in the 2nd Earl Grey, prime minister and KG, &c.

Mrs Slocombe came in after lunch and sat frantically humming. She only does this when in a highly nervous state. Her face-lift is planned for March 1. The humming is always without rhythm and completely void of musical sensitivity.

Tonight I asked Ally to take down Burke's from the shelf and I asked her to select a peer at random and then I would find a relationship with that random peer and the Princess of Wales. She selected Earl Nelson. He is descended from the Duke of Marlborough, and so too is Diana. She then picked a Munro baronet, who has an Ogilvy up his tree back in the 13th century. That's enough for me.

Ally stood ironing and we watched a prehistoric science fiction film about worlds colliding. She grumbles that my taste in films isn't up to much and wanted to tune into 'Brookside' Channel 4's answer to 'Crossroads'. She may well win. When it comes to squabbling about the TV I always give in.

Talk about Saturdays party at Waltergarth _______.

Ally, still with iron in hand, says the Princess of Wales isn't as pretty as she once was. She has lost 'that' look. I think I know what she means. The Sun has a large photo of one of Prince Andrew's so-called aquaintances flashing her tits. It's just too much. The paper also states that the prince is to visit Koo Stark in the states very soon. Awful scandal mongering. Princess Margaret is still going about town with Derek Deane, principal dancer of the Royal Ballet, but this doesn't create the storm it would have done 5 years ago. Funny how things change?

Off to bed. Ally is reading Nancy Mitford and I nothing. I lay watching the damp creeping down the walls. Hurry Mr O'Connor (the roofer). We need you.

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