Thursday May 4, 1978

Ascension Day ~ Holy Thursday

A wet, deluged day. At 4pm I was in the predicament of having no transport (at least until a train at 5:17) and so Sarah ferried me to the polling station at Hawksworth where I cast my vote for Willie Hudson, the current Lord Mayor. The rain will ensure that the Conservatives are re-elected (Council elections).

At 5 we went back to Sarah's where we had haddock flan for tea with Delia and Granny Ireson. Bill Collis was in residence but he said very little. We discussed Llandudno (of all places) and he advised me never to venture into Wales, adding with emphasis: 'it isn't worth it.'

It is incredible just how incompatible Delia, Bill, Sarah and family are together.They'd all kill one another without a minutes hesitation if it wasn't for the fact it's so convenient for them to carry on under the same roof. ________.

Delia remains at the top of my favourite 'Ladies Over 45' list. From this lofty height she will never fall.

I cancelled a dental appointment scheduled for this evening to sample a slice of Delia's 'nice piece of haddock' (bought in case you're interested at Cowley's fishmongers in Headingley).

At 8, Sarah, Delia, Mrs Whittington (yes, "Turn again, Dick" and all that)went to the pub in Wetherby where we had a riot last September after the 'do' at Harewood House.

Home, very sober, at 11 to find the whole house in uproarious, drunken revelry. The Nasons, Edith & Ernest, David B's Uncle Tony (Baker) from Nigeria, and a very drunken Lynn.

Bed at 4am after listening to records using the headphones.

-=-

Monday April 24, 1978

Up to Rawdon to see old Hough (dentist). As usual I need a couple of teeth filling and have to go back on May 4.

Sarah took me to Rawdon in Delia's car, which was good of her. I'm supposed to be going to tea with them both next week. Whether I shall or not depends on the movements of Mr W.A. Collis, because I'm never entertained there when he's lodging at home. He hates me.

Jacq started work today at Dacre, Son & Hartley. I phoned her tonight to see how things went. She says OK. The money is ghastly after London but that's the way things are. It's Dacre's dinner dance on Saturday and I'm accompanying Jacq. More expense!

We are going for a quick drink on Wednesday lunchtime, not before. She is attempting to manage my financial affairs. I have every intention of achieving solvency by August or September.

Sandy Denny, the singer, is dead.



Christine phoned. Goodnight.

-=-

Monday March 20, 1978

Work was busy. Sarah should have been back from her revolting week with the equally revolting Welsh but poor Delia broke her arm yesterday, falling over the telephone, and is, by all accounts, in a terrible state. Sarah will be tied up now playing Dr Kildare for weeks on end.

Peter James Nason is twenty today. Sue and I had tea quite alone and then Peter came and carried her off for a drink somewhere. Lynn got in later and we watched a comedy film on the BBC which gave us a good laugh. In one scene Leslie Phillips was in the bath with a steaming hot pressure cooker trying to get at the contents.

We had a few glasses of wine to celebrate Peter's birthday, and when they came back at 11 the three of us (Lynn having retired to her boudoir) cooked a meal and noshed away like pigs. Really enjoyable. They say that a camping jaunt is organised for Hawes at the weekend and I am invited with some gusto. No doubt to 'chaperone' my little sister who will otherwise be the sole girl in a tent on some windswept heath with fifteen drunken males. I agreed to join the party.

The thought of the Fox and Hounds with all those happy, smiling faces featured greatly in my decision making. Anyway, I'll have no money to speak of and the delights of darling Christine cannot be obtained free of charge. Do not, dear reader, assume that I am paying the above mentioned dear lady for carnal delights. I'm just pointing out that vodka does not grow on trees.

-=-

Sunday November 20, 1977

Ernest Blackwell.

Last after Trinity. Out to the Commercial just after twelve. Sue, Pete, Chippy and me that is. Had three or four drinks and came back to Pine Tops where Susan attempted to make lunch. I went to Edith's to ask what flour is required to make Yorkshire pudding and remained there for one and a half hours with Ernest in his kitchen drinking his lager (from the barrel) and grape wine.

On returning home I found the mortal remains of my lunch over a pan of hot water and no sooner had I started to eat it when Mum and Dad appeared. Mum was in one of her foul moods and not at all nice to Sue. I think they expected a cooked lunch on the table and the sight of a chicken skeleton and three cold Brussels sprouts cannot have been a heart warming sight.

To make matters worse I invited Edith and Ernest to come round at 4:30 and they arrived on time with bottles of wine. Mum complained of feeling tired and was far from sociable. We drank until about 8 when I evacuated the lounge and let go of my pent up frustrations on Delia's pheasant. I, with the aid of David, removed it of it's feathers and innards and conveyed the pathetic bird back into the house. I do not suppose it will make a decent meal. In fact, it strongly resembled a Vietnamese refugee. Nevertheless, one shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth ... or gift pheasant in the beak.

Mum and Dad enjoyed Norfolk but are far too grumpy for my liking. Saw a film and retired to bed at 12. Still battling on with our mutual friend 'The Count of Monte Cristo'.

-=-

Friday November 11, 1977

Met Jacqui at 4.45 at the bus station and the weekend began disastrously when the bus broke down and we got caught up in a snow storm. By the time we arrived at Guiseley after 6pm it was so bad we were compelled to seek refuge at the Station Hotel where I phoned for assistance from home and we both had half of lager. I was carrying a pheasant (courtesy of Delia, who did not desire removing it of its feathers and innards) and the bird's beak poked through the polythene bag, dripping blood over the pub carpet.

Dad collected us. He says Mum may have a kidney stone. Dr Mellor says she must shed a stone in weight. Her blood pressure is high. She is pale and ill.

Jacqui.

The rain, snow and gales persist and at 8 Sue, Pete, Janet Simon and Chippy take Jacqui and I to the Fox & Hounds. They then leave the two of us alone and we saw none of the usual Friday night visitors. No Tony, Martyn or 'Piss and Crete'. We had a few at the Fox and then went to see Judith R and Kathryn at the Hare where I became quite pissed. I blame the vivacious Miss Young entirely for my condition. We sat in the Tudor Bar until midnight and then I ran around in the car park with my 'inflated' umbrella until it was smashed to pieces in the high winds. It disintegrated into a warped mass of fractured metal and plastic.

At home the two of us drank 2 bottles of Beaujolais and listened to the record player at a very low volume until about 5am. Nobody could possibly have heard us. Sue and Pete slept on the settee - snoring contentedly - until I had the foresight to awaken them after 3. Poor Pete dashed off home. He's working at 7.30am.

-=-

Saturday September 17, 1977

I have very strange thoughts about the events of last night. Sarah became so ridiculously miserable _______. From what I remember of our visit to Wetherby Delia and I were eating carnations and slapping turkeys before we left for home. (For some reason a very large, uncooked turkey was sitting in the bath in the upstairs loo of the private flat of the pub where we made merry).

Turkey slapping ....

I was up at 9.30 and expected a call from Delia about returning to Harewood for coffee, but the summons never arrived. Had a bath and left at 12.30 for Stockport.

I was in Manchester by 2.30 and managed to get through the blockade of Manchester Utd fans who were attempting to sabotage the Lord Mayor's Parade. I got lost in Stockport and arrived at the Hollywood after 4pm. Dave G was awakened from his afternoon slumbers and he greeted me with yawns and bleariness of eye.

Tonight to Stockport County Club with Dave, Steve B, Garry B, and Bill (Wright). Bill is one of the most hilarious people I have ever met. We just acted wild and really daft. At one point an act on the stage just stopped to watch us lads performing. In tears laughing. Mind you, it doesn't take Agatha Christie to fathom that the drink intake was at the bottom of the cause of this revelry. Back to the Hollywood at 2.30 not that I can remember anything about it. Stockport always guarantees severe intoxication and in most cases, paralysis. Visits here should perhaps be banned. Perhaps Margaret Thatcher will put a stop to it all next autumn.

-=-

Friday September 16, 1977

Mixed with the posh people this evening at Harewood House. Sarah and I went straight to Horsforth from the YP and at 6.30 we went with Mrs Cinzano to Harewood where we met Delia. She is in a temper and informs us that his miserable lordship will not be attending the function due to the death of Maria Callas, a connection which I fail to see. Blimey, I went in to the office on August 17 even though Elvis Presley had passed on.

Countess of Harewood.

For a start we got on the wrong side of the Countess of Harewood. Whilst she was showing Brigadier Hargreaves the music room, Delia and a band of renegades including Sarah and I, raided the dining room and made a start on the wondrous chicken buffet. Lady H entered the room ten minutes after us expecting to be served first and almost fell over us in the doorway. Delia and Brian Halliday had even flopped down on the Chippendale sofa and were joking about Carol J ____________. Lady Harewood gave us dirty looks for the remainder of the evening but we didn't care. We laughed and I dared Delia to approach Her Ladyship and call her 'Marion', who was of course George's first spouse. Lady H is a snobby, ridiculously coiffured Aussie who was previously married to a Schmidt, and posed for Australian TV commercials in the 1940s, I believe. She made a very bad impression altogether and only spoke to the Hargreaves contingent and his feeble Lane Fox of a wife, who looked positively sick.

The food was good and we put away gallons of white wine. Delia and I wandered out in search of the conveniences and we ended up having hysterics over the Epstein statue of Adam - truly grotesque. My God, the things Delia was doing with his penis, and a stone one too, were mind boggling.

We left for a pub at Wetherby at 9.30 as the Harewood butler stood at the entrance of the house yelling for 'Mrs Collis'. The summons from the countess had come too bloody late. "If she'd wanted to speak to me she could have do so hours ago", screeched Delia.

-=-

Saturday September 3, 1977

Eileen and Michael's wedding day. David B and I went to see Sarah & Delia at 12 and we took photos of the dogs on the Collis's spacious lawn. From here we went to the Queen's Arms just for one solitary drink. I haven't been in the Queen's for a couple of years, in fact since the pub crawl with Sarah and Carol J when I proposed marriage, amongst other things, to Miss Collis.

Left David at about 1pm and went to the YP to collect Kathleen. Together we went to Mirfield and the Dusty Miller pub for a few more. We arrived at the church at 2 o'clock just as Eileen arrived on the arm of her father. By 2.30 they were married. At the reception I was on a table with Delia, Sarah, Kathleen and Steve (the lad from the stag party). Eileen looked very happy.

Delia brought me home at 5.30 and tonight Dave B and I went to the Malt Shovel at Baildon. Joined by Tony and Martyn and at 11.30 we collected Naomi and went to a barbecue at Carlton. John and Maria were there. On to Il Trovatore where Naomi and I danced with a string of tinsel. When she brought me home at 2.30 we put up the Christmas decorations.

-=-

Sunday July 31, 1977

Delia Collis.

8th after Trinity. Luncheon party at Sarah's. I went at about 1 o'clock. A hot afternoon with wine, and plenty of it. Delia's food was wonderful as usual. Haddock flan, pizza pie, salmon mousse, cheesecake, &c. Delia is a marvellous woman. She knows I'm a good friend to Sarah. She says we have so much in common. I have always thought so. Sarah must think the same. Saw the new shih tzu dog, Sophie. Delia had wanted to call it Daisy May.

Went for a dip in Richard's swimming pool next door and John MacMurray ferried me to the YP at 5. Coming home the taxi was late. Didn't get in until nearly 1am.

-=-

Saturday July 9, 1977

Delia Collis.

Delia's champagne and strawberry party. Not really my scene - old ladies with blue rinses and flashy rings. Delia was fabulous as usual.

Got home at about 5pm with Eileen and Michael (Robertshaw) and within minutes Tony, Linda and Martyn were here to take me off on holiday for 14 bloody days!

Night out at the Poca-a-Poca in sunny Stockport and then waved bye bye to Tony and Linda. To the Hollywood quite pissed up.





-=-

Friday June 24, 1977

Met Dave B at 1 o'clock and went to Parker's (wine bar) where we see Delia, Sarah, Marilyn and Barbara Wheeler. We had a couple of drinks. Dave chats with Stephanie Ferguson who is in with Linda Shaw and Jo, the editor's 'fallen secretary', who leaves this afternoon.

Duchess: pregnant at 44.

Sarah and I went back to the office at 2 to relieve Carol J who also went over to Parker's to annoy Jo, and no doubt get pissed up. I intended having a quiet afternoon but the phone rang and Sarah spoke to the York Office who want everything we've got on the Duchess of Kent. They say she's pregnant. I just do not believe it. The woman is 44 years-old. Speak to the news desk and yes it is confirmed. Three royal babies before next February. Quite startling really but great news to the ears of one who relishes the spread of the Royal House of Windsor.

Tony returned from the wilds of Hampshire today. He and Martyn came up tonight and the three of us went off to the Bod. Sue (WH Smith of Bradford Sue), Michelle and Co. are in the pub but I'm not too communicative. Michelle tells me she is going to Morocco tomorrow. I just smile and say "nice" but really think going to such a place can only be a mistake. She could end up in the harem of King Hassan. Poor child, she is so naive too.

Tony is fit and cheerful. Pete M, Chris and Steve Hudson came in at 10.30. We left at 11.

-==-

Wednesday May 4, 1977

A nice morning for a change. The birds actually lowered themselves to give us a tune and the rain managed to hold off until I was safely encased in the Jim-mobile. No Sarah today. Auntie Delia informed me that the poor girl is suffering from dizzy spells and such like. I like Auntie tremendously and we are still promising one another tea or an evening meal but she is always bogged down with (flower arranging) classes.

YP was dead. Worked through lunch and went home at my usual time - 4.30. Horrible meal this evening. Mother is still behaving positively rude and childishly, which encourages me to a certain extent. Her attitude won't get her anywhere at all.

Queen: speech to the Lords & Commons

On the 6 o'clock news saw the Queen and the Royal Family in Westminster Hall receiving the thanks of the Lords and Commons for 25 dedicated years, &c. HM made a controversial statement about devolution saying she had been crowned Queen of England, Scotland and Northern Ireland and intended remaining so. The Scottish Nationalists are aggravated by it but I think it was a tremendous thing for her to say it. At least one person in the land wants to keep the United Kingdom intact.

To be quite honest I'm getting cheesed off with the complete lack of patriotism at the moment. Dear mother is a leading advocate and her attitude about a Silver Jubilee party astounds me. How she had the bloody nerve to pay me £2.50 for her share in Robert Lacey's 'Majesty' God only knows! About as patriotic as Willie Hamilton's left buttock she is. I could become quite violent on the subject if I tried hard enough. I expect that all the flag waving and cheering will take place on June 7 and then everyone will forget about it. It's about time the Queen used her influence to rally nationalism.

Out with Judith to the Hare and back to her place until almost 3am.Discuss purchasing the Sun. How much would it take to make a box for it?

-==-

Saturday April 23, 1977

St George's Day. Up at 11 and after ten minutes or so a panic-stricken Sarah rang to say Kathleen will shortly be ringing to put a new scheme to me about working Friday nights in future following another "Mrs J Incident" yesterday afternoon when she apparently spent her working hours in a Bacchanalian orgy in the editor's office. Kathleen is now intending to work no night shifts because these disgraceful incidents only ever occur when she isn't in the office.

Kathleen rang at 11.30 but Mum told her I was out. Good old Mum who never tells lies. She did it quite convincingly too. If she insists on pushing this Friday night lark I shall go.

I rang Sarah but only Delia was in. She had me in stitches about the Harrogate Flower Show disaster. The marquee collapsed and hundreds of pounds worth of damage was caused. Queer sense of humour don't you think?

Chat with Lynn about relationships. _______.

New Knights of the Garter are the Earl of Cromer and Lord Elworthy. No one sensational like Tommy Docherty or George Best ever get it.

Peter.

Peter M came at lunchtime. He announced that Chris isn't socialising today because of forthcoming examinations and so he came to pester me for a change. We went to see Tony in Ilkley and decided to go out in a foursome tonight - Linda included.

Back for tea at 5.30. John and Maria were just leaving for their country retreat on Ridgeway and Mum and Dad head off to Wath for dinner. Susan and Peter go to Flashman's. They return with tales of wonderment but  I cannot see anything taking the place of dear Wikis.

Pete arrived at 8 and Tony and Linda half an hour later. To the Bod in Bradford. A very good pub. Packed out with females. Laughed with Linda until my sides ached. Peter M and I were more than a little pissed. He came back home and had coffee and played the record player at full belt. The others were still out. Lynn and Dave went to see the new Barbra Streisand film.

Pete said he'd enjoyed himself for the first time in ages. _______.

-==

Wednesday March 30, 1977

Princess Marie-Astrid.

More in the papers about the Prince of Wales and Princess Marie-Astrid of Luxembourg. The Daily Mail announces that Misses Sheffield and Eastwood and Lady Jane Wellesley are all 'decoys' and that the prince has been 'in love' with Marie-Astrid for a number of years. A load of bullshit. The very organ that has led us to believe that the prince is having an affair with Davina Sheffield is now saying we've all been fooled. You wait and see, the next time HRH is within six hundred yards of anyone remotely female the Daily Mail will be ringing wedding bells and proclaiming 'this is it!'.

The princess is of course very eligible. Granddaughter of Leopold III, King of the Belgians; daughter of the ruler of Luxembourg, but Roman Catholic. Dr Cobweb, the Archbishop of Canterbury is meeting Pope Paul next month. What will crop up in their discussions?  Comment from Mama: "Oh he will marry a princess - it's as plain as the nose on my face."

Work unspectacular. No Sarah. Spoke to Delia on the phone and she reminded me about my birthday tea next week. Yes, 22 years - aarrghh! Who cares anyway? Moses supposedly lived a long and active life and died at the grand old age of 450 or something.

Ruth: 24 years old

Sit in front of the television until 10.45pm when the England v. Luxembourg football match drives me from the room to the sanctity of my chambers.

Nothing on the news. Saw Sir Geoffrey Howe make a reply to Denis Healey's Budget. No phone calls tonight. Tony told me, on the quiet, that Ruth is 24 and has been separated from her husband for 2 years. Blimey, the girl only looks 18. Martyn has yet to be informed of this. Does Ruth know that Martyn is only 18? Age doesn't matter though.

Have a P.G. Wodehouse session after wallowing in the bath. Must write to David of Gloucester.

-==-

Tuesday March 22, 1977

Not discussing work other than to say we've been having some bother with Carol.

Margaret Thatcher: I don't fancy the idea of a woman PM

A good cartoon in the Daily Mail this morning on the subject of Margaret Thatcher, the Prime Minister and Mrs Indira Gandhi. Tomorrow we will know for certain whether we're in for a general election or not.

I don't fancy the idea of a woman PM but anything will be better than Callaghan. Even a gorilla will do. A right-wing gorilla though.

Spoke to Delia Collis this afternoon on the phone. She has invited me to tea on an date yet unknown but in the near future. Should be a laugh.

Chris Monckton: future Tory whip?

To the dentist at 5pm. I need a couple of fillings. No appointment until September. I can think of nothing worse than dentists. They should all be herded together and shipped to the Maldives, or perhaps the Outer Hebrides. On reflection it's probably a silly idea, but I'm not here merely to be sensible. Blimey, I'm not standing for parliament.

Chris Monckton is departing from the YP to become a PRO with the Conservative party. Should suit him well. One day I bet he's a Tory whip - in more ways than one. On the subject of the peerage, a duke saw fit to make an exit from his mortal role yesterday. Namely the Duke of Portland who was 84. Strangely enough the successor to this title is only a slip of a lad himself. In fact he's 88.

11:30pm. Nothing much more to report. The BBC is, at this very moment, going on and on about the revolting government. It angers me more and more. James Callaghan is no politician. How he has the cheek to crawl round the Liberal party at this stage is quite amazing. No, obscene is the word. Even Dad says it's disgusting. The shoddy way this country is governed! If I was an MP I'd admit defeat when it it staring me right in the face.

To bed with P.G. Wodehouse. An amusing book. No telephone calls tonight. Must ring the lads tomorrow.

-=-

Tuesday March 1, 1977

St David's Day. I do hope my Welsh readers have their flags flying today. It was a tiresome day at the YP keeping the conversation away from the subject of Martha Reeves and the Vandellas and Batley Variety Club. Somehow I think Carol J must suspect something because she didn't once mention the subject of tickets to Ursula.

Delia rang at 2.30 to say she is making her TV debut today at 3.45 on YTV (re her flowering arranging genius). She added that she'd just had four of five gin and tonics in the YTV bar and was tipsy. Carol, Sarah and I gathered round the office TV at the pre-arranged time and sure enough Delia emerged onto the 12inch square set in glorious black and white. She was marvellous - her usual hilarious self. I really must get an autograph or signed photo.

Home at 5.30pm for chicken, &c. See in the Daily Mirror - if such a newspaper is to be believed -that Davina Sheffield has taken in a lodger at her London home. Today is her 26th birthday and it may well mark the decline of her liaison with the Prince of Wales. Who knows? Nothing more of vast importance going on in the big, wide world.

Martha Reeves & the Vandellas ...

I am afraid that the month of March is going to be a month of costly entertainment. Numerous birthdays, and an unseemly batch of orgies coming up. How am I going to last until April?

Leave for Batley at 8.30 with Tony & Martyn. Well, what can I say about Batley (Variety Club)? The seats were revoltingly uncomfortable. Either designed by a retarded chimpanzee or Sir Basil Spence. The heat was unbearable and the drinks ridiculously priced. Martha Reeves, though quite good, didn't emerge onto the floor until after 11, and she'd gone by 12. I may have made it sound a depressing night, but it wasn't. Quite good for a Tuesday.





-==-

Monday December 6, 1976

Not as cold today, everyone. Leave Thornton-le-Dale at 7.30 but don't get to Leeds until 10 o'clock. The car is knackered and we have to drive without the radio and heat, and a terrible noise came from the engine. A silent, pondering journey gazing out at the bleak North Yorkshire countryside - my thoughts turn to Edward Heath and his devolution speech and the more serious matter of my festering in-growing right toe-nail. Lynne sits, tightly wrapped, in a rain-coat looking straight ahead whilst these important issues pass before my eyes. My thoughts also turn to another weird dream I had last night. It was about Miss C.P. I become quite depressed just thinking about it.

Don't get to the YP until 10. A quiet, miserable day. Sarah is off of course, and Mrs Johnson tells me tales of wild activities over the weekend with several of her 'clients'. God only knows what she's trying to prove. Get a bus in pouring rain to Sarah's at 4.30. [It] takes about an hour to travel six miles, or however far it is these days from Leeds to Horsforth. 'Aunt' Delia is in high spirits and she presents me with a couple of [flower] arrangements for Mama and one for Lynne's mum. £3.50 each.
Delia shows me some photos of her with Lord & Lady Bath and other great aristocrats. Keith Michell too. Stay until about 6.30 when Sarah drives me home. I'm sure Sarah fancies me. I'm not one to fantasize am I?

Lynne comes over at 8.30. She stays 210.6 seconds. Not seeing her again until Thursday. Can't say I'm going to die of a broken heart before that wondrous meeting. See Woody Allen in the film 'Bananas' which is great and then retire to bed contemplating my rotting toe. Dad doesn't panic when he sees it and he advises me to bathe it. This I do.

-==-

Sunday November 7, 1976

21st after Trinity. Straight to Sarah's residence at 12.30. Don't propose to go into great detail but if I mention Rolls Royces, caviare, Delia, wine, &c, &c, you'll know what I mean. A brilliant occasion somewhat reminiscent of those grand Edwardian days which expired in August, 1914 when Europe erupted in the holocaust of World War. Wonderful, truly wonderful. [The whole thing was captured on photograph and so if you want to study the event in pictures don't hesitate to take down one of my old albums, will you?]. Lynne, Sarah, Peter B and I did most of the washing up and then staggered to the Fox & Hounds at Bramhope. Peter and Sarah both made comment on the quantity of alcoholic liquid refreshment consumed by my good self, and when I looked in Lynne's direction for some support to my horror I found that she agreed with them. They're quite right, I do suppose. Home at 10.30 with a thumping head. What a day! Lynne disappears in the general direction of Roundhay and I collapse into my bed.

--==-

Monday October 25, 1976

Work at 9.30. Sarah isn't too well. Bugger about and manage to finish for 2.30 or so. Home by 5.15. Have a bath and then Lynne comes up at 8 o'clock with my luggage. Put on my new trousers, red shirt and cardigan. Just the two of us to the Hare & Hounds at 8.30 for an hour. She goes home afterwards [to Gipton Wood Crescent that is] because Aunt Lil has her evening meal ready. Quite a good night at the Hare. We are becoming more and more close I think. [We are] staying over here this coming weekend. She's coming on Friday and going straight to Thornton-le-Dale after we've been out. The weekend after I'm going to Thornton-le-D with her on Friday [Nov] 5, and coming back on Sunday [Nov] 7, to go to Auntie Delia's luncheon.

See the Queen on TV at 11 o'clock tonight officially opening the National Theatre, on the South Bank. [The South Bank of what? Not of the Ouse, I think]. A modern, updated version of the National Anthem was played at the opening and, in my opinion, I think that perhaps the composer should be hanged with piano wire. Nauseating it really was. Bed at midnight.

Oh, by the way. Auntie Mabel, Marlene and Frank, Mark & Debbie came at 6.30 for an hour. Sorry, I forgot to mention it earlier.

-==-

Sunday October 3, 1976

16th after Trinity. Don't get up until very late. Do bugger all this afternoon and we all have a very late Sunday dinner at 5.30. Too listless to go out tonight & so I attempt to get Tony's phone number by ringing Auntie Delia in order to get Carol J's number and thus, eventually, discover Mr Brotherwood's. Delia says she wants some decorating doing and I immediately offer my services. A few extra quid wouldn't go amiss. Anyway, Carol says she doesn't have Tony's phone number and I get the distinct impression that I've put my dirty great foot in it. He rings me at 6 o'clock and I tell him not to bother coming up. We're going to see 'The Omen' in Leeds tomorrow.

See 'Fawlty Towers' and a film about German POWs attempting to escape from a camp in Scotland followed by a Sophia Loren film which takes us through to midnight. No news from John today but we presume Maria is now safely housed at Otley [Hospital].

-==-