Thursday February 15, 1979

_. Like most Britons I am now suffering from 'pnuemocallaghanicosis'. I have taken to my warm bed with a book.

Meanwhile, outside we are heading for a second ice-age. Giant mammoths & fur clad sabre tooth beasts are roaming around, and are quite the vogue. Old age pensioners, clutching red pension books, are being encased in glacial formations. Archaeologists in the year 4062 will be gasping and falling over themselves with delight on finding these perfectly preserved, if solid OAPs.

Debbie Harry.

Snuggled all day with the tale of Mrs Jordan and the Duke of Clarence, aka King William IV by Jean Plaidy. I will have to look at some serious work on this very interesting subject. I did read something years ago, before the ice came. I did emerge from my pit at tea time and later sat looking interested and alert with Jim and Margaret.

Saw Debbie Harry on Top of the Pops on the BBC and have decided that Miss Harry is perhaps the most perfect specimen of the female sex ever to have walked the planet. She is the twentieth century's answer to Helen of Troy, Lillie Langtry and Bessie Braddock.

To bed feeling slightly better but resolved not to attempt the YP tomorrow.






-=-

Monday May 15, 1978

Moon's first quarter 08:40

(It's 7:45pm) Lynn is downstairs playing a nauseating Frank Sinatra LP on the record player. Don't get me wrong, Frank is no monster or gargoyle, but actually purchasing one of his LPs is something I could never do. I think it mirrors Lynn's frame of mind at this time, the close of her free existence and passing youth. No doubt Frank will be at the forefront of her 'record playing' list when she's 30, or even 40. Her character is now moulded and cast and I foresee no drastic alterations in the coming years. When she's a little, old lady in 50 years time I do suppose she won't have changed one bit. Oh dear. Frank's OK, but long live James Brown, Wild Cherry, Judge Dread, the Sex Pistols, Debbie Harry, Ian Dury, and Bianca Jagger.