5, Club Street, Lidget Green
Ice, wind, rain, &c. Not a typical July. We waited all day for the Philips engineer to come to look at our washing machine. He didn't appear until 4pm when Ally and I were watching a tape of the Royal wedding and laughing at the puerile commentary of the great broadcaster Sir Alastair Burnet. He should really be horsewhipped ... along with the Philips engineer, who charged me £30 just to tighten up the points and connections and did nothing but moan about the inaccessibility of the appliance. British workmen. God Bless 'em. However, the machine was going again and within minutes of his departure the nappies were spinning furiously. All two dozen of them. Ally wrote a couple of thank you letters. Auntie Annie Wilkinson sent £15 and Aunt Elsie a dress. I sat over my D. Telegraph reading of furore over Michael Shea. The man should go. The palace is standing by Mr Shea and his is defended by Sir W. Heseltine, the private sec, but to quieten things down his head should roll. Damage has been done to Her Majesty and the PM over this. Heseltine has a letter in the Times today which makes it clear that the Queen accepts Mr Shea's version of events and not that of the Sunday Times, who published an article alleging HM was dismayed by Mrs Thatcher's policies. HM wouldn't be so unprofessional. My blood boils. The poor maligned sovereign.
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