Sunday August 26, 1979

_. 11th Sunday after Trinity

A beautiful hot day. The sun shone as though it might be summer. After a late breakfast it was down the lane to the Plough Inn for a lunchtime session. Midge, the landlady, looks even more like Ronnie Barker in drag, with her new hair do. Tony, her son, tells me that Earl Mountbatten has a 25 year-old girlfriend known only as Mary-Lou, who lives on the Broadlands estate in a 'grace and favour' cottage. I dispute this saying she must be a girlfriend of one of the grandsons, but he [Tony], resident in Romsey for years, says he knows full well what is going on.

At 2 Ally and I had a long walk by the River Itchen, and the scene was a romantic one. However, the constant sound of pounding water gave us the urge to create floods of our own, and we hurried back to the loo at Chillandham Cross over the meadows.

Luncheon consisted of prawn cocktail, roast turkey, late at 4pm, with Ally and Mr & Mrs D. Andrew was out playing cricket.

Graham [Smith] and Charlotte called in later. Back to the Plough until 2am. Locked in the lounge bar with Tony [who must be about 7ft tall]. We drank that Greek drink from Greece ~ Ouzo. Vomit on the way home at 2am followed by severe hiccoughs. I sat reading the Sunday Telegraph in bed, which eased the bilious attack and focused by bleary eyes. William Douglas Home's extracts from his forthcoming autobiography are very good.

Puzzled by a comment from one of Tony's friends who told us that his own mother lusts after him. Incest rearing its ugly head in Hampshire.

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Saturday August 25, 1979

_. Last night we decided to visit Broadlands, home of Lord Mountbatten, today. It's only a few miles away at Romsey.

Woke up at 9 to see Graham, as black as the ace of spades. He had arrived home from Corfu in the early hours and was preparing to go off with Gill to her holiday cottage in the Isle of Wight.

It was pouring with rain when we left for Broadlands at about 12. The exterior looked tatty, but the rooms were interesting if only for their royal associations. The house was packed out with geriatrics, and Ally was depressed by the bustling 'sardine' atmosphere. We didn't linger, because of the pounding rain. Earl Mountbatten wasn't at home but we watched a film in his private cinema showing photographs of scenes from his colourful life.

At 2-ish we found bedraggled refuge in a pub in Romsey. We spent a fortune shovelling money into the juke box, which is becoming a habit these days.

Tonight Ally and I had a pizza in Southampton. We then met her friends Mark Forbes, Tony, and Pete [?] and found a disco called Fridays. The doorman wanted my ID. It's an over 25s club. Left at about 1am for Martyr Worthy.

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