Saturday March 24, 1984

 Moorhouse Inn

Extremely wet. Slept in. Maureen came in and found me in my lemon karate-style dressing gown. Did I spy a hint of lust beneath those old, mud-spattered spectacle frames? I lay abed with my wife, son and Daily Telegraph. The Tisdall girl who pinched a document from Michael Heseltine's office and passed it on to the ghastly Guardian has gone down for six months. There's an outcry at the harsh sentence! She wouldn't see the light of day again if I had been the judge.I am deliriously right-wing. Mike Brown says, and I'm sure I've repeated this before, that I am to the right of Genghis Khan.

Breakfast late. Went out at 10 and bought £10 of copper from the Post Office. Coming back I spied the vicar in his study preparing his sermon, and I called in to tell him that May 20 (for Samuel's christening) is quite out of the question. So, back to the drawing board. Apparently it requires a dispensation from the bishop to have Samuel baptized mid-afternoon. What hideous bureaucracy. 

Quiet afternoon. Ally and I sat in the bar with Terry (Egan). Ally and I have decided that we are perhaps too critical of bar staff. They are bloody good really, but living with people on a daily basis does highlight their faults. John phoned. They are not coming. Janette is going out and he is babysitting for Lynn and Dave.To Morrison's and spent £32. 

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