Monday February 23, 1976

To Leeds with Jim Rawnsley and we have to endure the boring procrastinations of Donald Best, Esq, the local magistrate & do-gooder. With him in the car it's always a pleasure to get out after the 25 minute journey.

See in the Sunday People, or News of the World - I can't remember which - that Princess Margaret is holidaying in Mustique with Roddy Llewellyn, who can, I think, now be regarded as her lover. I found the article disturbing, especially because it was illustrated by seductive pictures of HRH on a sun scorched beach with her arms clasped firmly round the 27 year-old waist of Mr Llewellyn, the 'ear-ringed' fair-haired son of Colonel Harry Llewellyn, the showjumper. This romance may well develop into something big and if (Lord) Snowdon doesn't watch out he could find himself without a studio at Kensington Palace and a bed for that matter because the princess does appear to be enraptured with Roddy. Could the nation tolerate the monarch's sister in the divorce courts? Watch this space.

A busy day without Kathleen who never works Mondays, and Carol J who has the 'flu. The painter L.S. Lowry died today, and so too did Angela Baddeley, the actress. Other items in the news include several government resignations over the Chancellor's public expenditure cuts, and it looks as though Harold's second anniversary in No. 10 is going to be a stormy one. Will Margaret Thatcher be Prime Minister? Are we going to see a Tory government this year? Will Rod Stewart marry Britt Ekland? Oh, the excitement of it all is too much.

John and Maria go see Delia Collis tonight about the flowers for the wedding. I watched TV with Mum, Dad, Lynn, Sue & Peter. Carole didn't ring because I rang her this morning to tell her that one of the 'Supremes' (an ancient band of Negro singers), has died at the grand old age of 32. Other than this, I can report little else until tomorrow and so it leaves me only to say 'Goodnight'.

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Tuesday February 3, 1976

Busy day at work. Kathleen gets on my nerves at times. She fusses over such ridiculous things. Frustrated - that's what she is. A man would do her the world of good. Maybe a little crude, but true.

Sarah says Delia is planning for the day when I move into her place as a lodger. I thought they were having me on about this, but I actually think they would like me to stay there Monday-Friday when Mum & Dad go to Kirby Malzeard. That's if they ever do go to the Henry Jenkins Inn.

Carole rings this evening - 8.50 actually. She has one of her headaches. These crop up every couple of months or so. I can't figure it out how they keep recurring.

George Waite calls in to see John & is surprised to hear that J is going to beat him to the altar. George is getting married on June 19.

See "Fawlty Towers" starring John Cleese which is fantastically funny. Much better than 'Monty Python' because it's much more mature.

This Jeremy Thorpe affair makes me laugh. I'll write more on the subject later, but you mark my words when I say Jeremy is more involved than he cares to admit. Much, much more.

Bed at about 11.30.



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Monday February 2, 1976

Up at 7.50 to discover my hair is standing on end and jutting out in all directions as though I've been electrocuted. No amount of brushing or combing restores it to the norm. Hell, it was only cut on Thursday!

Monday is usually quite busy with Sundays national newspapers and the rest, but by 2.30 I manage to have everything under control.

Delia Collis sent an estimate for John & Maria's flowers and it's very good really. Maria's bouquet will be £6 and Libby's, Lynn's and Sue's will be £3. Delia will do a good job.

See in the EP that Dorothy, Countess of Halifax died today aged 90. The old girl once lived at Hickleton Hall, near Goldthorpe, where Mrs Wagstaffe worked as a domestic servant 60 or 70 years ago. (Mrs Wagstaffe was our aged next door neighbour at Goldthorpe 10 years ago). Old Lord Halifax was Foreign Secretary at the time of Munich and almost became Prime Minister in May 1940 instead of Churchill.

Carole rang at lunchtime and we had a nice chat.

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Wednesday January 28, 1976

John and Maria come round this evening to discuss the wedding plans and things. Peter and Dave also came up, but I'm not seeing Carole until tomorrow.

They discuss the usual things, viz bridesmaids, flowers and cards and I suggest Delia Collis (Sarah's mum) for the flowers, because she's something of an expert in the flower arranging department. I will get an estimate from Sarah tomorrow.

I am confirmed as the 'best man' and feel nervous already at the prospect of giving a speech to the assembled multitude on March 13.

I say they should hire a Rolls-Royce for the occasion, but Maria astounds me by saying a Rolls costs £50 an hour to rent.

I depart to bed at 12. Everyone is in high spirits about the wedding.

P.S. My future sister-in-law is a Scot. She was born in Glasgow. You'll all be thrilled by that morsel of information.

P.P.S. Saw Marita on the bus at 4.20 and informed her of the engagement. It will be her 21st on Saturday.

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Thursday December 18, 1975

The great unveiling of Lucy Collis's new kennel.

John and I go up to West End Lane at about 7.30, and Sarah and I stand about while John bangs, brays, hammers and attacks Mrs Collis's kitchen like something not right. We entertain Mrs C's mother with a fine demonstration of the Yorkshire accent, which absolutely delighted her. These Northamptonshire breeds aren't all that up on dialects.

We leave at 9.30 and I get to Carole's a hour and a half late. She isn't going round the bend or anything and is quite normal.

Maria takes a different attitude and when John brings her down to the Hare she's sulking and has a face like a wet weekend.

I got the last bus home and retired to bed immediately on my arrival at the ancestral pile.

You're very lucky to be reading this, because I nearly didn't bother getting the old pen out today. You may be even luckier tomorrow.

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Friday June 27, 1975

Feel grotty and ill for the best part of the day. Like a bloody fool, I took two more tablets with my breakfast, and they didn't agree with me at all. However, having upset Mum already, I didn't want to worry her even more, so I left for work without mentioning to her just how ill I felt.

Sarah was beautiful today. She always makes a fuss of me, and was an absolute angel about me feeling bad.

Eileen was back from Spain, all white and pickled with alcohol - and so I delegated a lot of my powers to her.

Home at 6 feeling a lot better. A bath and a brush up brings me round, and I prepare to set out for Horsforth to meet Sarah and Mrs Johnson. We attempt to do the whole of Town Street, starting at the Old Ball. But we end up four pubs further on at the Brown Cow at 10.30. Still, it gives us the excuse to do it all again next weekend.

After leaving Carol at 10.30 I walk Sarah home to West End Lane. It's lovely to get my arms around her, and I'm sure she feels a little something for me too. I met 'Auntie' Delia for the first time. Not at all what I expected, but somehow Sarah is a bit like her in character. Her Dad just walked into the room and belched, but he's endearing in a funny sort of way. I kept saying I'd walk home, but 'Auntie' protested and offered me a lift in the car. Sarah and her Mum brought me home, and I hadn't so much as laid a lip on her all night. I'll have luck one day though, you mark my words.

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Friday November 15, 1974

Quite busy at the YP. Mrs Collis rings in the morning to say Sarah is ill in bed. My delightful Sarah unwell!
Later: Have a fantastic time in the Commercial after starting off at the Hare & Hounds of course. Lynn and Dave, Carol, Phyllis Whitethighs, Keith, John and myself all stood in a bundle near the bar, laughing and joking. Phyllis kept saying it was her 19th birthday. I kissed her that number of times on the lips, and so did Keith, but he really did believe it was her birthday, so he's got some excuse at least. I drink campari and lager until we get to Wikis when I switch to bitter, which is quite putrifying. Very boring at Wikis, and I'm sick of seeing ______trying to grab all she can get in the idiotic stupor she's regularly in these days. To avoid the hideousness of drunken females I switched tables and sat until 2am with little Helen Willis, and three other unknown couples. Gillian Barker was of course near at hand. At 2 I escorted Helen to the door, but conveniently having no coat I am unable to walk her home. It's a cold night and I obtain a lift with John - Christine Dibb occupying the back seat. John and I argue about drinks on our arrival home and we wake Mama from her slumbers. She's not at all pleased by our disturbing conversation. Bed at 2.30.

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