Saturday August 25, 1979

_. Last night we decided to visit Broadlands, home of Lord Mountbatten, today. It's only a few miles away at Romsey.

Woke up at 9 to see Graham, as black as the ace of spades. He had arrived home from Corfu in the early hours and was preparing to go off with Gill to her holiday cottage in the Isle of Wight.

It was pouring with rain when we left for Broadlands at about 12. The exterior looked tatty, but the rooms were interesting if only for their royal associations. The house was packed out with geriatrics, and Ally was depressed by the bustling 'sardine' atmosphere. We didn't linger, because of the pounding rain. Earl Mountbatten wasn't at home but we watched a film in his private cinema showing photographs of scenes from his colourful life.

At 2-ish we found bedraggled refuge in a pub in Romsey. We spent a fortune shovelling money into the juke box, which is becoming a habit these days.

Tonight Ally and I had a pizza in Southampton. We then met her friends Mark Forbes, Tony, and Pete [?] and found a disco called Fridays. The doorman wanted my ID. It's an over 25s club. Left at about 1am for Martyr Worthy.

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Sunday April 23, 1978

Full Moon 05:11 4th Sunday after Easter St George (England)

I was awakened at 9:30 by Alison who was waking John (in another bed in the room) in order to get him to work on time. That poor boy seems to do little else. Graham Dixon, Alison's brother, was also in a third bed in the room, and was introduced to me for the first time. Shaking hands with somebody in bed doesn't seem quite right somehow. He is quite scarred after a recent car accident.

A really beautiful day. Open top car weather, shirt sleeves, and all that. Alison took Jacq and I on a pub crawl of the area and we knocked back Pernod in a way that brought the beaches of Ibiza to the forefront of my pickled mind. The pubs included the Cart & Horses at Kings Worthy, the Plough at Itchen Abbas, the Bush at Ovington, the Globe at Alresford, &c. Most of the inns appear to be packed with over fed stockbrokers, retired field marshals and accompanying ladies.


Hurtling through Hampshire with Alison.

Back at Alison's I met Mr & Mrs Dixon for the first time. Very amiable folk. We contemplated staying until tonight but on phoning Victoria we are told we cannot exchange our tickets unless we go there in person, which defeats the object. So at 3:30 we spent £7 for the two of us to go from Winchester to London Waterloo by train. It took just an hour. We larked about on the Embankment and in Parliament Square which took us to 6pm and home time. I took a picture of Jacq dancing next to a statue of Jan Christian Smuts - it should be quite good. It looked as if the old boy was tap dancing too.


Jacq dancing with Jan Christian Smuts

A long coach journey. We were an hour late in Leeds. Jacq only just made it to the hostel on time and I was certain I wouldn't get a bus home. Daddy was phoned and he and Mama collected me at 11:30. Back for supper and a hot bath. By 1am I was in bed with Samuel Pepys.


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Saturday July 26, 1975

I didn't really have enough space yesterday to go into any more detail about 'George's' party. At one stage 'George' and I got carried away and we fell on the band, but all in all we returned without any injury. After the meal we came back to the Macdonald's for a few more drinks - champagne and cigars - and we staggered off home, or perhaps I should say we drove off home, and staggered up to bed.

Six or seven hours later we were out of bed and waving bye bye to Mum and Dad, who are going down to Ruby and Arthur's in Norfolk. Mum wasn't too pleased about me having a party tonight but Lynn used her charm and convinced her that all will be well. However, I was feeling terrible. A hot bath, which normally clears hangovers for me, didn't do so, and I thought the end had come.

'George' and Carole came round at 11am and I insisted on playing Rachmaninov's 2nd piano concerto and lying quite still on the settee. Carole isn't my type at all really and I don't see how we've managed to keep up the pretence for so long. She leaves at 12 and I won't see her until the end of August. Dave B managed to deflate her umberella (see foot of July 23) and I think it could be symbolic of our relationship.

The party: all went to the Hare at 8. Me in new trousers. Stayed there until about 10 o'clock. Stand with Dave L and Christine B all night. Dave is still my best pal after all these years and it's quite incredible how well we get on. The three of us come back to Pine Tops before the mob and we make a start on the drinks. All the usual come, other than Miss Carol Smith, and the only strangers were a few Durham University students who came with Ray. MM and Marita came looking like a pair of blacks and were quite jolly. Dave passed out upstairs just after 12, and the next to go was Lynn, who was violently sick, &c. Poor Christine drank vodka until it spewed out of her ears and she did nothing but cry. I took her for a walk at about 2am up on the common, and she lost her ear-rings. That didn't help matters, and it beats me how she always manages to lose expensive jewelry when she's drunk. The Braithwaite collection must have dwindled somewhat since Christine started drinking.

Al Dixon's brother, Graham, was also having a party, and Dave B, Martyn Cole, Al, and me went up for half an hour. It was completely dead and useless. On our return home I bedded down in the dining room next to a snoring Christine B, who looked like (in Dave L's words) a Japanese Mud Wrestler.

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