Friday December 22, 1978

Moon's last quarter 17:41

Not going to tell you much. Work was over by 1:30 and we went across to Parker's Wine Bar ~ which was ridiculous. So cramped and over crowded. Surely a danger and a fire risk? Tarts abounded. Champagne gushed everywhere at £8 a bottle. Most of the men in the place were dressed like Shirley Bassey ~ I think they were heading off to a fancy dress party.

At about 4 o'clock Carol J took Sarah and I to Ivory Towers {really Ivory Dene, West End Lane, Horsforth}, where we ate beans on toast and drank whisky.

November '63: Jack or Bobby?

Auntie Delia brought me home at 7 and came in to use our phone. She wanted to contact Bill (Collis) ~ the phones at Ivory Towers are out of order.

My throat is on fire. I think my cold is returning. By 8:30 I'm in bed and undergo a hideous night of delirium and sweat. At one point, in my dream, I was about to assassinate Senator Robert Kennedy, but couldn't understand why my calendar said it was November, 1963. I went out on the "grassy knoll" trying to tell people that it was his brother, John, who should be assassinated, not Bobby. Nobody believed me.

Yes, I'm stoned out of my miserable brain.





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Monday November 22, 1976

Arrive at the YP and decide I want a half-day. Do all my routine work for 12 and leave for home. Musing on the way out about Mrs Johnson. Evidently, her 'lover' from Salvo's on Friday evening stayed the night at the flat. Good God, isn't she a tart? She never shows any signs of embarrassment after these sexual escapades with most of the men in the Leeds area [most of the sexually deprived and desperate men anyway]. Get home simultaneously with the arrival of our new deep-freeze and spin drier. After lunch Papa spends the afternoon demolishing walls in the garage to make way for the new long needed gadgets.

Finish reading 'Edward VIII' by Lady Donaldson. It was especially moving to read about the lying-in-state and the funeral. I was there and remember seeing the Duchess of Windsor peeping from the behind the net curtains at Buckingham Palace as the Queen left to troop the Colour and pay homage to her uncle.

See TV all evening. 'I, Claudius' is especially good. Mum and Dad go out for a drink and Lynn and I watch a programme dedicated to November 22, 1963 - thirteen years ago today since Kennedy was assassinated. I recall Mum coming into my bedroom and telling John & I of this. I was eight years old. The film of the event was agonising and scenes of weeping people outside the hospital at Dallas brought a lump to my throat. Jackie Onassis can be forgiven for going off the tracks somewhat after the horrific incident. Even the passage of thirteen years does not fade the tragedy of it all.

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