Tuesday May 20, 1975

Hot day. At lunchtime I have a few photographs taken for my ten year passport. They look really grotty, but not all that bad when you think it costs about £2 to be photographed by a cravat-wearing Old Etonian with a lisp and double-barrelled name for something very similar, but probably a bit more glossy. Don't take this as an insult to Lord Snowdon please, because nothing was further from my mind. OK, he may be an Old Etonian with a camera, but he doesn't lisp, and hasn't worn a cravat in donkey's years.

At 4.30 armed with a bottle of Lucozade I marched on Leeds Infirmary and threw myself upon my ailing aunt, the one and only Mabel Paine. I didn't recognise her at first because she seems to have lost a good deal of weight since we last met, but otherwise she was very cheerful. The thought of having cancer worried her to death (Oops) of course, but they've assured her now that it's all clear. No more treatment required, and by Sunday she'll be a free woman again. I really despise hospitals. The smells and the general lay-out make me weak at the knees. It was so nice to get out into the fresh air at about 6 o'clock - away from the stench of death and illness. I only hope to God that I'll never have to spend any length of time in such a place. Mind you, by the time I'm 60 they'll have done away with hospitals and they'll be injecting OAPs with cyanide. The nice, easy way out.

See 'Edward VII' at 9 o'clock, and retire at 11.

-==-

Tuesday March 11, 1975

It's even more noisy in the bloody office today. Kathleen had headphones on all day.

Read an interesting article in the recent News of the World re Lord Snowdon and Lady Jacqueline Rufus Isaacs. It says that Lady Jackie, the daughter of Lord Reading, was "very much in love" with Lord Snowdon, and that the affair had started in 1969 when the couple sat at the same table in a West End club. Evidently, his Lordship visited Lady Jackie's flat two or three times a week under the pretext of calling on her brother, Viscount Erleigh,and they managed to see each other frequently in 1970 without more than a handful of people knowing. When the story was grabbed by the Press in 1971 the affair had to cease. It says Lord Snowdon never visited the Reading family home again, and Princess Margaret ignores Lady Jackie when they occasionally meet at parties.

The beloved Prime Minister is 59 years old today. He celebrates at Dublin Castle where the EEC talks are going on, and never again will I say nasty things about him because he's done so much for the Queen's pay rises and the Civil List. He's a decent old sport really, and I don't suppose it's his fault that he was born with all these confused ideas about politics. Someone really should discover an antedote for socialism, because when that day comes Harold Wilson will require a sizeable injection.

-==-

Thursday January 30, 1975

Whilst messing around with the EP at work I see that the headlines of last night's paper concerned Lord Snowdon and Mr Hamilton, the repulsive Labour MP who should have been shot years ago. It appears that Lord Snowdon has written to the publishers of Hamilton's new book 'My Queen and I', and has has asked him not to publish it. Obviously, he's been instructed to do this by Her Majesty herself or by Princess Margaret, who receives some obnoxious insults in the vile publication, and it is quite understandable that the Royal Family are hurt by it. I for one, absolutely refuse to read it. William Hamilton is so disgustingly low, it would be impossible for most normal people, even certain Labour members of Parliament, to stoop to his level.

Home at 6 o'clock to discover that I've mislaid £2 since last night. After a frantic search I fail to discover it, and sit about moping, pestering myself with worry, and tearing out large chunks of hair, screaming and biting my nails off. Quite upset really. Chris rings at 8.30 to say we may have got in somewhere for the holidays. The travel agent in question is ringing him back at 9.30. So I'll report on the details later. My fingers are crossed with expectancy.

Three hundred and twenty six years ago this day King Charles I was brutally murdered by his captors. A foul day ineed that was. What with William Hamilton's new book and this anniversary I cannot envisage much joy and happiness at Sandringham this week.Her Majesty may well be quaking in her boots.

Chris rings at 9.30 to say we have managed to get a place in Majorca for the weeks we wanted. Not too happy about Majorca, but Chris was assured it's a good place where we're going. More developments tomorrow.

-==-

Monday June 17, 1974

Beautifully warm day. John and I take Hugo on the 'Long Walk', in order to avoid all the crowds who have flocked to Windsor to get a glimpse of the Garter ceremony. See Princess Anne in her speedy, little car and she smiled at John and I as she passed us on the Long Walk. Whilst recovering from seeing HRH, Lord Snowdon races past with a young lady in the passenger seat - not Princess Margaret either.

One year ago today I split my trousers in the gents of the Fleece in Horsforth, and I vowed to send June a safety pin on the anniversary of the occasion until either one of us ceased to be. I don't think she's dead so I'll have to send her one.

-==-

Friday May 10, 1974

Wake up at 10.45 with the alarm clock ringing merrily.(Excuse the handwriting but I am sitting up in bed resting the volume on my knees - not a very satisfactory method at all). Doing nothing until Mother comes home for lunch, then she surprises me by saying she is having a driving lesson at 2 - which means this is the second one this week. She gets so nervous about drivming, so much so that she makes everyone else petrified too.

Go to the YP by train at 4.20. Arrive early as all the girls are just leaving. I have a very good night and finish all my routine work by 8.20! Judith Rushworth rings at 9 and we talk for 15 minutes about nothing in particular. I ring Mum but Sue tells me they're out and I joke with her and Lynn for a further quarter of an hour or so.

Read through the Duke of Windsor's file and am especially interested in the abdication period. The poor Duke of York hated the idea of kingship and from newspaper accounts it seems as though the king and his brother finished up deadly enemies. The refusal to give the duchess the style and title of 'HRH' stems from this rivalry. Anyway, I was very glad to see that Princess Margaret and Lord Snowdon, now visiting Canada, found time to call on the old Duchess of Windsor, who is visiting New York. Margaret and Edward VIII have a lot in common.

My taxi came at 12 and I was in Wikis at a quarter past. Meet dear Denny at the top of the stairs and she is worried about John, who disappeared about ten minutes before my arrival. I go check the lavatory but he is nowhere to be seen. Have a good deal to drink and have fun with Denny. Judith, the Alfa Romeo girl, comes over and sits with me and I act with great civility considering the way I have been treated. She gives me a lift home and we cry with laughter to see John staggering up the lane at 2.30. Where had he been? I follow him in and discover he'd slept on a wall behind Wikis, after going outside to get some fresh air. A likely tale, but it must be true. Bed at 3am.

-==-

Tuesday March 19, 1974

Lovely Spring day - all sunshine and cool breezes. The EP certainly has a shock in store for us all this evening. The front page is splattered with silly rumours of a possible divorce between Princess Margaret and the Earl of Snowdon. Utter poppycock! We are all aware that the princess and Tony lead separate existences, but divorce is out of the question. The sister of the Queen of England would be unable to divorce and remain in line to the Crown - and the annuity would be out straight away. Let's face it - Tony is a Casanova and always will be - his current mistress is the notorious Lady Harlech, and his infatuation with Lady Jackie Rufus-Isaacs is a known thing. Evidently, the princess is still in the far flung reaches of the West Indies where she winters on herv own little island with the middle-aged heir of Lord Glenconner.

Driving lesson at 6.30 - quite good. Lynn and I go to the CW at 7.30 - I sit with Sue watching tv and chatting about old times until 10. The baby is fabulous - not at all like either parents. He was just how I imagined he would be. Tucked up in his own room surrounded by millions of cuddly elephantsand Teddy bears - completely spoilt. Home at 10.30.

-==-

Wednesday January 3, 1973

Several of the morning newspapers contain stories of a romance between Princess Anne and Mark Phillips. The Sun says they're engaged. Mum says he's a good looking chap and hopes they're in love. I'd prefer HRH to marry some titled chap. We can't have the daughter of the Queen going round calling herself Mrs Phillips. Princess Margaret married a Mr Jones - but HM soon put a stop to that (i.e. Lord Snowdon).
1st day back at school since Dec 19, 1972. Dave, Denise and Chris and I are all going to somebodys party at Dunkeswick. I don't know the girl throwing the party and have never heard of Dunkeswick - supposedly a village near Bramhope or Otley.
We arrived at about 9.30. The venue was a tiny cottage. Excuse me if the writing is horrible but it's now 12.30 and I'm awfully drunk. Several wealthy girls were there, including someone called Debbie, daughter of a millionaire. I drank almost a full bottle of whisky - which accounts for the deterioration of the handwriting. I am in love with Denise.



---