Derek Naylor comes laughing into the office saying the future Queen of England is a "scrubber". Sarah laughs at this whimsy, but I'm far too contemplative. One would think that an experienced journalist [as Derek is] would realise that the things one picks up in the Sunday [news]papers cannot be believed, and the papers are only fit to wrap ones fish and chips in. Derek seems to be eaten away with mock disgust at the tales of Miss Sheffield's sexual escapades with old-Etonian James Beard, brother of the Countess of Normanton. How do we know that this woman will even marry the prince? And perhaps more importantly, even if she and HRH settle down in wedlock by the time comes for her to be crowned Queen Consort will she have anything to be Queen Consort of? One things for sure, the crown jewels will have gone. The Pakistanis want the Koh-I-Noor diamond back, and it's only a matter of time before the Welsh National party demand the return of the Welsh gold used for generations by members of the Royal Family in wedding rings. Davina really ought to give it serious thought.
Lynne rings at 7.30 to enquire after Maria. She is having a boring time in Bradford and mentioned something about an argument with Peter at Thornton-le-Dale over the weekend. [She's] not too happy really. Arrange to meet on Thursday. Tony rings to see if I want to go out with him and Stuart on Thursday. He mentions something about a change of job in Smith's. Seems as though he got it straight away.
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