Thursday December 14, 1978

Full Moon 12:31

Christmas Carols: nostalgia ....

I am writing this entry by candlelight. The time, if it means anything to you, is 1:21am on December 15, 1978. I, your beloved narrator, am slightly pissed following a Jim and Margaret Nason session, but fear not for my sanity. Candles can be so hypnotic, can't they? I can sit and stare into the flames for hours ~ they bring such peace and tranquillity to a 20th century room. They have given an almost sacred appearance to our dining room. Margaret Nason's Christmas Carol LP is playing "Hark! The Herald Angels Sing" ~ it's one of my favourite hymns. Nostalgia really hits a peak when the wonderful carols come out at Christmas. (OK, you've made your bloody point.)

Guess what? I arrived home at 6 o'clock after an afternoon at the YP playing cards with Eileen and Mum said: "What about Lord Snowdon and Lucy, then?" She caught me by surprise. The Earl of Snowdon and Lucy Mary Lindsay-Hogg are to marry tomorrow in Kensington.  ______.

Capital punishment: debate

Jim and Margaret came here at 9 and stayed until about 1am. Peter came at about 11:30 in the midst of "As With Gladness Men of Old". We debated capital punishment (again) and the arming of the police. Quite a fiery argument.

It is now 1:59am and I'm going to clear things up. The house looks like a nuclear missile testing site.







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Tuesday June 28, 1977

Decent weather for a change. Going down the lane on my journey to the metropolis I was stunned by the sight of vast quantities of nettles in the hedgerows. I decided to set about making nettle wine. "Oh Goody!" I thought to myself: "I can hardly wait to get started!" Subsequently, after tea on this bright, sunny evening I marched out armed with protective rubber gloves and a red plastic bucket on my quest for the most succulent nettles. After half an hour I was more than laden and my wine-making began. In fact I was boiling nettles until long after sun-set and by midnight my part of the creation was complete and the rest was in the capable hands of Mother Nature.

Ruth Ellis.

I did manage to see a bit of television. A documentary on Rubens, the 16th century painter and decorator, and a documentary on Ruth Ellis, the last young lady to die by the rope in these weak-kneed Isles. If I had my way a good many more women would receive the distinction of swinging by the neck from the gallows. Those pretty IRA lady bombers would go for a start. No doubt about it, they knew how to treat criminals in the 1950s.

Retired to bed at about midnight with Burke's Peerage. Did you know that the Duchess of Kent is descended from Oliver Cromwell? (If not then you haven't studied these diaries carefully enough because I've told you before). Felt exhausted and fell to sleep with the bedroom light blazing, only to be discovered by Mama at 3.30am. What was she doing prowling around the house at that God forsaken time?

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Friday January 9, 1976

Something's happened to Carole. Yesterday everything was loveliness and rosy, but today I detect a marked change in her attitude.

She went round to Maria's straight from work. I was summoned to Ridgeway at 8 o'clock and walked in to find a conference drawing to a close. The girls and Mr Macdonald had been nattering about something and Carole was exceptionally cold and disinterested.

We caught the bus to the Hare, and if David hadn't been in it would have been unbearable.

We moved on to the Black Bull in Otley and then called in at the Junction, which is up for sale and under Mum and Dad's scrutiny. The place is an absolute wreck but could be made nice if a couple of million quid was to be lavished upon it.

Carole was acting like a moron and when everyone asked her what was wrong she replied that nothing was wrong.

At 11pm David was feeling hungry and so we all went to Headingley for a bit of something to eat. Carole's silence continued, and I was getting sick of it.

We all came back for coffee and Carole, as you've probably gathered by now, was the typical little chatter-box and life and soul of the party. Dave B took her home at about 12.30 which left David, Dad and me talking about capital punishment and the rest of the current debate points until after 2am. When Dad went up to bed Dave sat for a while and said, quite seriously, that Papa is the greatest speaker he's ever heard. Coming from David that certainly is a great complement.

David left at 2.30 and we think we're going to Oakwood Hall tomorrow - that's if Carole will lower herself to mutter a 'yes' or a 'no'.

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Sunday May 20, 1973

Got up at about 11 oclock. Had grapefruit for breakfast.Read Sunday papers. Did you realise you could still be hanged in the UK? To murder or conspire to murder the Queen or Lord Chancellor; to blow up a battleship or harbour? And many more. It's only theoretical of course. If someone were to kill Her Majesty I do suppose that the sod would only do six years, or spend a couple of years with a good probabtion officer. The penal system in this country has gone to pot anyway and I do suppose that murderers do not even consider the consequences. What fear does a Butlin's holiday camp type prison hold? Free meals, good wine list, persian carpets, etc, etc.

Go to the Emmotts with June at 8.30. MM and Chris and several of "other" Germans arrive. The manager asks a German whether he's 18 or not. He says: "Ja, Mein Herr." Such a laugh. June has new white shoes. Very nice. Come home in rain at 11.10. Got to bed after Lynn was being sick everywhere - she got drunk at Christine Dibb's. Mother very upset.

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