Wednesday January 7, 1987

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

Prince Edward quits marines.

Cop a load of this about Prince Edward. Obviously it means curtains for the armed services and I back HRH all the way. Why should all the males of our Royal House always have to give such a macho image? Leaping from planes and running with Gurkhas, &? Why is it always a military career for 10 years or so? Princess Anne went straight from school into the royal routine, and just look at the Duke of Gloucester. He even wears spectacles. He doesn't give a sod.

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Tuesday January 6, 1987

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

Obituary. Viscount Lifford.

Epiphany

Feast of the Epiphany. We Three Kings of Orient Are, &c.

Excuse the news cuttings (glued herein). It is the new lay-out of my 1987 journal. Better than nothing. Starved of my Burke's Peerage I'll glue appropriate cuttings here from the Daily Telegraph. I've been too bust to keep an old style diary since the arrival of Clementine. Life's been so frantic and running at a fast pace. Will I see 32? 

Leslie Gledhill came in beaming & joyful. Our Christmas takings were fantastic.

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Monday January 5, 1987

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

Clementine cannot find contentment at all and lays scratching and writhing pitifully. We are taking her up to the doctor tomorrow. She had another jab at the clinic today and screamed . A doctor inoculated her in the thigh. Surely, buttocks are best? I picked up Samuel from the nursery and joined Ally at the clinic where Sam played on a battered rocking horse, the walls covered in AIDS posters. Poor boy. What will the world be like when he is my age?

News: The 1st Earl of Stockton was buried at Horsted Keynes, Sussex, at noon. His grandson, bearded and looking delighted with himself, announced that the former PM's last words were: "I think I'll go to sleep now."

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Sunday January 4, 1987

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

3rd Sunday after Christmas

Not too hungover. I avoided beer and lager and stuck faithfully to drinking 'shorts'. Up for 10. Yes, 10. Ally had taken Bev to work at 8 and brought me my morning tea. We had two staff 12-2 and so Ally and Sam went to bed and I sat reading about 'Supermac' in the Sunday Times. My God, the former PM isn't even buried yet and already they are beginning to print all sorts of claptrap. I slept from 1:30 to 3pm and then did a roast lamb lunch. The children were particularly vociferous. The lamb was a £3.60 joint. Clementine, the little treasure, knows just how to wail that bit too much.

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Saturday January 3, 1987

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

Picked up the phone and it was Katie Davina - four today - talking from Kilmacolm. A sweet little girl. Tonight at 9 Ally and I went over to the Stone Trough at Rawdon for Chris Ratcliffe's annual (sic) bash, where I thoroughly and unexpectedly enjoyed myself. Pissed of course. Saw John, Janette, MM, Marita, Chris, Andy and Linda Graham, Carol Smith, Christine Dibb, Laura and Dave Pattison, Jacq, Ian, Tony and Margaret Brotherwood, Martyn and Fay Cole &c. Back to Chris's on Canada Rd (or drive). All stripped pine, and cottage-like. I did my usual 'ice bucket down the trousers' routine, much to Ally's chagrin. Ally sank a fair few Martinis. We dropped the Matthewses at home at 3am.

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Friday January 2 1987

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

Bank Holiday in Scotland

Dad enters the 54th year of his age looking well, with fresh complexion, but almost white hair. Everyone says he looks years younger (my customers say that but they are debauched, wrinkled, town-dwellers. Dad kept going until 5am on New Years Day and the women flock to him. Mary Knight would have him tomorrow. No, today, in half an hour. We found a bottle of Asti spumante and had it with our boiled eggs for breakfast. Dad stayed until lunchtime and then went on to Guiseley. Tonight he went out with Sue, Pete, John & Janette to the Indian restaurant at White Cross. _________.

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