Monday October 1, 1979

_. Read in a Sunday newspaper that Sabrina Guinness is to accompany the Prince of Wales to a ball at Wilton House on October 27. Miss Guinness, they say, was recently observed renting a tiara from the royal jewellers. Is this it, perhaps? Is Guinness good for him? Geddit? Are we going to have an Irish Queen? [Well, she's probably a Londoner, but of Irish stock]. The opinion in the office is that she is going to be the one. However, all HRHs affairs follow a similar pattern. We will all be in the dark until an announcement is made by Buckingham Palace and then the balloon will go up.

The revolting 'Horse of the Year Show' dominates the tv every night, driving innocent people to the pubs and restaurants.

[Crossing out] Sorry about that. I don't like crossing out. I was going to say that Maria brought the children to see us this evening, but that wouldn't have been true. We saw nothing of her or the children.

-=-

Sunday September 18, 1977

15th after Trinity. Felt incredibly revolting again. Mrs Glynn made Dave and I a massive, greasy but glorious breakfast, and at 12 we set out for what was for all intents and purposes, a walk. The brightness of the sun was hideous and we sought solace in a pub with a loud juke box and friendly barmaid, even though she was a bit rough. "I've been married four times but never divorced" she proudly told us as she pulled the Guinness and went on to say she'd thrown one of her wedding rings in the river Mersey and "one in the bloody river on the Isle of Man", which due to my lack of geographical knowledge remains anonymous. Don't we mix with a nice kind of woman?

Dave G.

Dave says he thinks we are going to have a wedding in the family and so I just could not contain myself and revealed all. He was jubilant and plans sending an hilarious card on Sept 28. He likes Lynn and Dave immensely and jokes about being on the top table at the wedding. It turned into another session and by 2pm we were marching back to the Hollywood canned yet again.

Roast lamb for lunch. Afterwards we slept in our armchairs. At 8pm he saw me off from Stockport Station for Manchester. Coach back to Leeds and home for 10.30. The family were watching TV and eating a Chinese meal. I felt half starved but nobody had thought to put some grub on one side for me. Disgusting treatment when I had been many miles away for the weekend.

Watched the expurgated version of 'Soldier Blue' on the BBC which was quite boring. I feel a cold coming on. Blocked head, nose, ears, &c.

-=-

Tuesday May 17, 1977

Feel grotty all day. Stomach ache mainly, and anorexia. All the same I forced down two sandwiches and a pea and ham soup - but could easily have done without. You don't want me collapsing at work do you?

Kathleen suggested that I ought to go home early, but like King Charles I (you know, him with the ginger hair and no head) I decided to be a martyr instead.

Carole: grandmother's accident

Carole rang at 3 and we decided to go out again on Thursday, again to Oakwood (Hall). I asked whether her mother had been knocked down, the victim of a road traffic accident and she laughed saying: "Oh no...
it 's my grandmother". It seems that the old lady fell in the path of a van belonging to the Gas Board and passed a night in Otley Hospital emerging with three stitches. Carole's attitude is quite frightening and she insists that the sight of ones beloved Grandmama disappearing beneath the wheels of a bright yellow NEGAS van isn't half as horrific as it sounds. Having no living grandmother myself I can never experience such a phenomenon.

Spent an evening in front of the television. The headlines on the 9 o'clock news was the royal visit to Scotland. It's the first of the 'Jubilee tours'. The BBC must have taken leave of their senses. A royal item to be the first item on the news? Surely the first such thing to occur since the abdication Edward VIII.

Took a bath after the royal spectacular and then returned to the drawing room to find Mama reclining on a sofa sipping delicately at her glass of Guinness. No other exercise whatsoever is allowed - Dr Jacques's orders.

Sit with a mug of cocoa and decide I feel much better. My bowels have improved tremendously since tea time. I cannot help thinking that Uncle Bert might have brought a virus with him from darkest Nottingham. Dearest Uncle will get his head kicked in if I find this to be so.

-=-