Thursday April 19, 1979

_. To Leeds with Jim R bearing my red suitcase packed with nearly all my possessions. At lunchtime I bought a ticket and passed the afternoon hanging around in readiness. It was unfortunate really because the coach to Manchester didn't leave until 6pm.

I had a pleasant chat with Ursula before marching out of the office at 5:30. Slept all the way to Manchester on the boring M62 and then got a bus to Stockport arriving there at about 8pm. I managed to get lost. The statue to Queen Victoria was facing one way, and I walked in the opposite direction. Billy told me to follow the old Queen. Dave was out searching for me and so I sat at the bar in the Hollywood with a heap of tongue sandwiches and a pint of lager, chatting with Mrs Glynn. An old boy leaning on the bar was reminiscing about the British pulling out of Malta in WW2, which was really interesting. We then discussed the pros and cons of marrying for money, and we decided it was quite acceptable. I did say that the fortune would have to be considerable before I could contemplate such a move.

Dave G came in at 8:30 followed by Bill [Wright] & Garry [Barratt]. The lads seemed quiet and subdued. Neil arrived with two other Bournemouth trippers and we sat drinking ale until 11. _________.

-=-

Wednesday January 17, 1979

Deep snow this morning. Got in Jim Rawnsley's car at 8:10 & we didn't get to the YP until after 10. Two bloody hours just to go 10 feeble miles. I do believe I have walked home from the centre of Leeds in a similar length of time.

Little Jennie is improving and becoming more tolerable, but it may be because I've resigned myself to the fact.

I failed to mention that David G returned to Stockport on Monday by the 9:30 coach from Leeds.

At the YP: the NUJ are returning to work on Monday and the prospects are not thrilling. Our card playing afternoons in the cathedral~like atmosphere of what was a busy newsroom are sadly, numbered. Kathleen is aware of our latest craze and Sarah thinks our beloved boss is saving up her accusations until a suitable day of reckoning can be chosen. _________.

Malcolm Barker: rocketed in my estimation.

Malcolm Barker has rocketed in my estimation since the beginning oh hostilities with the NUJ. No longer will I regard him as an ale swilling hyper-thyroid editor full of his own importance. Malcolm is indeed a saint, and I for one am 100 per cent behind him. Three cheers and all that. Indeed, we chatter away now like old pals. He's no longer the terrifying boss of my youth.



Home at 5pm. Snow has given way to pouring rain. Eat moussaka, heavily laden with garlic. Poor Susan complained about the after-effects all night.  One thing's for certain, Count Dracula won't be taking her for his gruesome band this dark evening.

Alison Dixon is coming up on Friday, but it's all a big secret from Lynn & Dave. It will be great to see her again. Mum, who spoke to her today, says she sounded cheerful. Retired to bed at 11:37pm. Early eh?

-=-

Thursday January 4, 1979

Money. It seems an eternity since I saw a wage packet.

A Cold day, but the snow held off. To work with Jim {Rawnsley} who tells me that Muriel's mother is to be cremated tomorrow. Obviously, she must have died. In fact she departed this life last Friday. The poor old thing was only 68 and had a tumour as big as a tennis ball on her brain. Nauseating thought, eh?

Tonight: out with Pete (Nason), Chippy, Gus, Frank, Dave W, Micky Hebden, Kathryn Chaffer, &c, &c to the Shoulder of Mutton, Highroyds social club and then Oakwood Hall. Had a good dance and didn't get horribly pissed for a change. It is the last Thursday night out for Gus and Frank who are heading out to the Sinai Desert or the Golan Heights, next week. I suppose Gus will disrupt Mr Begin's peace talks and a flare up of the Middle East war must now be on the cards. General Dayan is definitely in for a rough time.

Actually I am not too sure how they will get on in the middle east and my wish is that they stick it out and benefit from the experience.

Chippy _____________________________.

He (Chippy) looked pained when I suggested that the manic Thursday nights will capsize now two prominent members are departing. He almost wept and said that he and Peter will still be out and about. Just the three of us? He says Dave W isn't really a member of the gang, but he always seems to be there when I am around. Chippy always has to be right.

-=-

Wednesday December 6, 1978

On safari with Deborah ...

I fear my father suffers from chronic indigestion. You'd be surprised by some of the noises which cry out in the night and at times awaken me with sweat on my brow imagining I'm out on safari in Kenya with Deborah Kerr. Highly peculiar, trumpeting noises can be heard at all times of the day and night and people from miles around gather at our gate with cassette tape recorders and cameras to catch a specimen sample of Daddy's spectacular performances. He is to flatulence what Kathleen Ferrier was to opera.

Warmer today and no bloody fog. Jenny Rawnsley made a record at school yesterday afternoon and so Jim now has orders to purchase a "music centre". I don't like this description of a record player. It sounds to me as though he's going to put in a take~over bid for EMI  or the Rank Organisation. Poor, eccentric James. He could so easily have stepped from the pages of a Jane Austen novel. (I think Jane's "Five Go Off in a Caravan" is her masterpiece ~ Ed.)

Left the YP at 2pm due to the lack of work due to the strike. Malcolm Barker and I are now firm friends. He stood with me this morning showing me the EP copy as though I am the EP news editor or even ~ dare I say it ~ Helen Atha. Blimey I am becoming big~headed and fanciful.

Home at 3. Just ate and watched TV tonight.  "Edward and Mrs Simpson" was good. Cynthia Harris plays the duchess as a power~mad, selfish, calculating hag. Peggy Ashcroft is good as Queen Mary, and the girl who plays the young Duchess of York bears a remarkable likeness to her.

To bed at 12:40 after watching an interview with Woody Allen on the BBC. He really is the funniest man in the world, and so ugly too. I could listen to him for hours. Sat in bed with nothing to read. However, I won't let it get me down.

The mystery King of England in yesterday's competition was born today.

-=-

Wednesday September 13, 1978

Donald Best got a lift with me and Jim this morning. He says the appointment of the Queen Mother as Lord Warden of the Cinque Ports is a ridiculous idea, and that Edward Heath, a Kentish man, with naval associations, would have been a more appropriate appointment. I cannot disagree more. The dear old Queen Mother will carry out the ceremonial like no one else. Donald is always very sarcastic about the Royal Family.

At 1pm I met Dave near the Poly and we walked across town to the Hofbräuhaus, where some of the lads from his course were assembled. It is a dark, smoke~filled cavern, full of people eating pork pies and mushy peas. We sat on the heavy trestle tables supping soapy ale from large jugs, and then it happened. Yes, on came the stripper. Yes, I know you are shocked and horrified, nay stunned, by this gross act of sexual perversion on my part, but that's what dissipated youngsters are doing these days. She wasn't much good and her dancing was moderate but what can you expect for 10p each? I will never listen to T-Connection again without breaking out into a cold sweat...... not.


-=-

Wednesday April 19, 1978

Another busy day at the YP.

Jacq and I went to the Central at lunchtime where we had just one miserable drink. We discussed my job and I vowed that by the beginning of August I'll be in new employment. We discussed all possibilities from milkman, to brain surgeon and ITN newscaster. Jacq has just spent £15 on a new pair of shoes which consist of three straps of cream leather with heels at one end. Nice though. She is sceptical about the weekend arrangements. She isn't acquainted with John (Pinder) and Alison and fails to see how easily we are going to obtain lodgings for Saturday night and thinks it impossible that our intended hosts will chauffeur us back to London on Sunday. I have greater faith in John William Hutchinson Pinder, Esq, and Miss Alison Mary Dixon.

Got a lift back to Guiseley with Jim. In fact this evening I was summoned to his office at the Civic Hall where I waited for him to terminate another conference on the banning of the NF march in Leeds on Saturday. I was home for just after 6.

This evening sport dominated the television but I didn't watch thanks to the mysterious grip of Samuel Pepys. I have read 122 pages. I find it all very fascinating.King Charles II is preparing to return to his kingdom from exile at Breda.

On the 9 o'clock news I saw Prince Andrew make his parachute drop over some misty, southern county. He said he had enjoyed it very much. It's the first time I've heard the 18 year-old prince speak. All the women go quite mad over him. Even mother casts James Garner, the American actor, aside at the sight of Her Majesty's second son scrambling across a turnip field all entangled in his rip cord.

Bed at midnight with Samuel Pepys.


Samuel Pepys's diary.

The family tell me that I look pale and in some cases yellow. Sunken eyes were mentioned. Blimey, is my age showing at last?

-=-

Tuesday April 18, 1978

Jacq's secured a job in Leeds at the Royal Exchange House. She phoned today with the news that she's going to be an audio typist secretary or something for a company the name of which I have forgotten. Lynn took the call and said: "Hello, Sarah". Oh dear. I will always remember Vera Mather saying "Oh, hello Stephen" to me when I'd been 'walking out' with Lynne M for about six months.

Tonight I walked to the Civic Hall at 5pm to meet Jim but he was nowhere in sight, and having spent my fare money on scampi and coleslaw salad at lunchtime you can imagine my predicament. Penniless in the centre of a bustling metropolis. However, having no infirmities of any kind (other than mental ones) I put my best foot forward and marched in a homeward direction. Passing Kirkstall Abbey I secured a lift from a gentlemanly Menstonian who brought me all the way to Guiseley. He told me of the horrors of running a business in the midst of public transport chaos. I pitied him greatly.

At the foot of Hawksworth Lane I was picked up by Jim showering me (yet again) with profuse apologies. He was late because his car had been delayed having a service at Appleyard's.

Home for tea at 6:35. On the BBC news I saw the Prince of Wales and Prince Andrew training to make a parachute jump at RAF Brize Norton. My blood ran cold at the thought of a communist parachute packer hacking away with pinking shears at the royal baggage. Surely the princes do not intend leaping from the same plane at the same time? If so, the consequences could mean we have a King Edward IX, and Lady Sarah Spencer's anorexia nervosa suffering a relapse.


The Prince of Wales and his brother parachute training.

Bed at 11:30

-=-

Monday April 17, 1978

The Leeds buses are on strike for some obscure reason and the traffic into the city was like hell today. I was of course travelling with Jim Rawnsley (who sprained his ankle on Saturday) and Jennie ______. Later this morning I received a phone call from Jim at the Civic Hall asking me to accompany him back to Guiseley this evening in the absence of public transport. Jim Rawnsley is a very good gentleman.

I collected a photo of young John with his grandmother from Betty (the YP photographic wizard who has framed an enlargement for me). It was taken on Dec 27 last year. I am very pleased with it.

I worked until 5:30 and then walked to the Civic Hall to meet Jim. He was in a meeting banning a march planned by the National Front in Leeds on Saturday, and didn't get away until 6:20 and so I sat on the wall near his car reading the newspapers. He was very apologetic.

I fear I have smashed one of my rear teeth on something I ate at Yeadon Fair on Saturday.

A quiet evening at home. Saw an film about Lee Harvey Oswald.

-=-

Thursday January 12, 1978

Horrible snow. To the YP with Jim and Jennie Rawnsley. I do believe that it is exactly one year to the day since the snow caused me to be three hours travelling home from Leeds. Let me say now that today was very much the same.

Churchill by Graham Sutherland.

The nation heard today that Clementine Churchill destroyed the portrait of Sir Winston by Graham Sutherland shortly after it was painted in 1954.  I find this infuriating and disgusting.  It's only twelve months since the old cow was moaning about having to part with her personal belongings in order to make ends meet. The picture (by Mr Sutherland) would have been worth something in excess of £50,000 today. Oh dear, so poor old Clem couldn't afford to pay the soddin' gas bill? Hard luck, that's what I say.

Tonight Jim and Margaret Nason came up and we drank Saki and such like until after 1am, or was it 2:00? Poor Margaret was blasted out of her mind. Sue and Pete joined us and we toasted their fourth 'anniversary' which falls tomorrow. I hope he intends making a honest woman of her. It would be nice to see my sister married this century at least.

-=-

Wednesday November 30, 1977

St Andrew's Day. A ghastly day. Just Kathleen and I in to do all the work. By 4:30 I was dead to the world. Didn't even have time to take a lunch break. I phoned Lynn this morning to enquire about acquiring a morning coat with tails from one of her mad associates. She settled it straight away and this saves me £8 or £9. Sisters can be very useful at times.

Striking firemen (1977).

______. This morning Jim Rawnsley gave a lecture on his view of the firemen's strike. He really let rip. He thinks all the striking firemen should be put up against a wall and shot. Blimey, we don't live in Chile or Argentina, Jim! (I almost said Spain here, but they are becoming more sensible and non-reactionary lately).

Got home at 5 o'clock. Mum and Dad are back from Luton. The funeral isn't until Tuesday and so they brought Edith & Ernest home too. They're going back on Monday.

I phoned John G in Rawtenstall. He is very well, in case you're interested.

Change of ink from red to black: I feel a little 'off it'. Almost as though I have a cold coming. In the bath at about 11. My neck aches. If it becomes any more painful I won't hesitate to chuck in work tomorrow.

-=-

Wednesday October 5, 1977

To work today with Jim and Jennie Rawnsley. I could almost see Jim shivering in terror as his eight year-old daughter commanded him to 'overtake the bright yellow car in front. It might be Miss Higginbottom, my history teacher'. ______.

Duchess: abortion.

The Duchess of Kent crisis continues. The Archbishop of Canterbury is now involved and keeps making short visits to the hospital, no doubt to persuade the religious duchess that it would not be wrong to under go some sort of procedure  to terminate her pregnancy. We know what the opinions the duchess has on the subject of abortion and I can understand the torment she must be going through. However, the life of the mother is far more important to that of an unborn child. All you Roman Catholics can now rip out this page and eat it.

Norman Conquests.

Just watched TV tonight. Saw an Alan Ayckbourn play 'The Norman Conquests' starring Penelope Keith and Richard Briers which is first class - for a change. The quality of television plays is usually disgustingly low and I was delighted to se something well done. I think Penelope Keith is marvellous and cannot understand where she's been hiding for the past 20 years. Isn't it strange how these actress, and not particularly young ones, suddenly emerge from obscurity overnight?

Wednesday May 4, 1977

A nice morning for a change. The birds actually lowered themselves to give us a tune and the rain managed to hold off until I was safely encased in the Jim-mobile. No Sarah today. Auntie Delia informed me that the poor girl is suffering from dizzy spells and such like. I like Auntie tremendously and we are still promising one another tea or an evening meal but she is always bogged down with (flower arranging) classes.

YP was dead. Worked through lunch and went home at my usual time - 4.30. Horrible meal this evening. Mother is still behaving positively rude and childishly, which encourages me to a certain extent. Her attitude won't get her anywhere at all.

Queen: speech to the Lords & Commons

On the 6 o'clock news saw the Queen and the Royal Family in Westminster Hall receiving the thanks of the Lords and Commons for 25 dedicated years, &c. HM made a controversial statement about devolution saying she had been crowned Queen of England, Scotland and Northern Ireland and intended remaining so. The Scottish Nationalists are aggravated by it but I think it was a tremendous thing for her to say it. At least one person in the land wants to keep the United Kingdom intact.

To be quite honest I'm getting cheesed off with the complete lack of patriotism at the moment. Dear mother is a leading advocate and her attitude about a Silver Jubilee party astounds me. How she had the bloody nerve to pay me £2.50 for her share in Robert Lacey's 'Majesty' God only knows! About as patriotic as Willie Hamilton's left buttock she is. I could become quite violent on the subject if I tried hard enough. I expect that all the flag waving and cheering will take place on June 7 and then everyone will forget about it. It's about time the Queen used her influence to rally nationalism.

Out with Judith to the Hare and back to her place until almost 3am.Discuss purchasing the Sun. How much would it take to make a box for it?

-==-

Monday January 24, 1977

Bloody fog now. If it's not one thing, it's another. Down to the YP with Jim Rawnsley. Work was hellish. At lunch I went to the Register Office and got a form to send off to Worthing for my grandmother's birth certificate. She was born at Angmering actually - which is near Bognor.

Keith Brown came up at 7.30 to see if I fancy going to Sweden for the weekend on February 18. He mentioned it in the pub a few weeks ago but I haven't given it much thought since. Very tempting it is too. Mum says the trip will cost me £50 (the fare is £16.26 excluding food, drink, and pleasure), but I don't think it can cost as much as she thinks. I know it may seem extravagant after booking a holiday but I can hardly resist.

Lynne comes this evening and within minutes she's talked me out of this Scandinavian extravaganza. People all round me have 'common sense' - why? Am I such an imbecile? Is Michael Rhodes really off his rocker? These questions may never be answered, but they're worth thinking about. Down to the Hare for a couple. Sit with Judith and Kathryn. J looks delectable. She's more and more attractive.

-==-

Tuesday June 1, 1976

The First of Bleedin' June.

Up with the larks at 7.20 and devour a few slices of toast before making off down the lane at 8 o'clock. Jim Rawnsley doesn't pick me up as he usually does and so I have to travel by bus like a peasant.

Carol is not in the office & so I cannot speak to her about Friday night's excursion to the Emmotts. Sarah is in good form. She says she'll come to London on June 12 to see the Trooping of the Colour. It would be nice to arrange a party from work because I am rapidly running out of suitable chaperones. John was always a good companion on these adventures but circumstances of course prevent his continuing in this capacity.

Blimey! 26 days before Peter and I bugger off to Ibiza for a fortnight! Just three and half tiny weeks! I'm in two minds about declaring a State of Emergency because I feel so unprepared for the holiday. I have a passport, I will have three weeks pay. Clothes? Do I have suitable gear? Eeek! All these things have to be looked into!

See a Jimmy Cagney/Bogart 1939 film on TV and go to bed at 11pm after discovering that I haven't smashed all the glasses Mum has accused me of smashing. She expects everything to be in its correct place, and had not bothered looking in one of the other kitchen cupboards where they nestled in complete safety.

-==-

Monday May 17, 1976

Woke up at about 5.30am and staggered to the kitchen for a glass of orange juice. Don't usually see the light of day until about 8 o'clock and decide that Dad getting ready for work is the cause of my wakening. Climb back in bed and sleep until 7.30.

To work with Jim. He doesn't have much to say but I suppose affairs of state are preying on his mind. Monarchical duties should never be taken on by one who isn't willing to dedicate his life to the service of his country.

Nothing in the news. Write to Jackie about the possible events of next Saturday.______. I'd still like her if she made it common knowledge she'd slept with Rudolf Hess. I am a very broad minded cousin really. Sarah, Carol J and the others are also coming on Saturday. However, seeing will be believing I'm afraid.

Salad for tea. At Whitsuntide I suggest to Susan that she should invite John and Maria to stay for the weekend because otherwise she will be alone. I'm going camping with Chris and Peter, Mum and Dad will still be on holiday and Lynn and Dave are also venturing off. The poor girl can't spend a weekend in solitary confinement.

Look at the garden after tea and notice next door that old Mrs Monkman is sitting watching the TV quite alone. She must feel horribly lonely.

See a good film starring Franco Nero at 9.20 and come to bed at 11.30. Tired and shagged out.

-==-

Tuesday April 27, 1976

Dad and I get a lift to Leeds with Jim at 8 o'clock. Jim attempts to describe in full, scene by scene, a fill he watched on TV on Saturday night, which takes up the entire half hour journey. I don't like second hand films.

Busy day. Work through luncheon and leave at 3.30. Collect 'Feelings' by Maurice Albert from the EMI shop and get a bus at 3.50. Bright, sunny journey home, and meet Dad in Guiseley. I don't know how we managed to miss one another. Only two buses leave Leeds in any one day and he was on one and I the other. Typical.

-==-

Wednesday March 10, 1976

Mum woke me at 6am while she was struggling to the bathroom on one leg like Long John Silver. Of all the times to be rendered crippled! I can forsee her being carried down the aisle on a stretcher on Saturday which, if nothing else, will raise a few laughs from our sadistic, insane family.

It rains slightly as Jim and I drive to Leeds but it clears up. I hate rain.

It is rewarding to see the Union Jack hoist up outside the YP because I am responsible for supplying Tom Lambert with the up-to-date list of flag flying days. Today is Prince Edward's 12th birthday. If I hadn't stopped him Tom would have had the flag fluttering on the mast on March 31 for Prince Henry, Duke of Gloucester. When Tom asked me why we don't fly it for Henry anymore I had to answer in very simple terms: 'He's dead Tom, that's why.'

Home for chicken which was cooked by Dad. John is still behaving strangely and is very bad tempered. Must be his way of showing he's just as nervous as the rest of us.

The wedding rehearsal tonight at Burley-in-Wharfedale, but when we get to the church it is all in darkness. John comes tearing down the road to say it's all off. We think he means the wedding is off, but it's only the rehearsal. Father Scannell has forgotten all about it and has gone off with his brother. The silly old boy is over 70 and seems to be on the verge of senility.

John, Lynn and I go in the spitfire to the Hare. We are all nostalgic. Lynn says it's the last pre-wedding drink we'll have together. The three of us then went to Maria's and chat until 11.30 or so.

-==-

Monday February 23, 1976

To Leeds with Jim Rawnsley and we have to endure the boring procrastinations of Donald Best, Esq, the local magistrate & do-gooder. With him in the car it's always a pleasure to get out after the 25 minute journey.

See in the Sunday People, or News of the World - I can't remember which - that Princess Margaret is holidaying in Mustique with Roddy Llewellyn, who can, I think, now be regarded as her lover. I found the article disturbing, especially because it was illustrated by seductive pictures of HRH on a sun scorched beach with her arms clasped firmly round the 27 year-old waist of Mr Llewellyn, the 'ear-ringed' fair-haired son of Colonel Harry Llewellyn, the showjumper. This romance may well develop into something big and if (Lord) Snowdon doesn't watch out he could find himself without a studio at Kensington Palace and a bed for that matter because the princess does appear to be enraptured with Roddy. Could the nation tolerate the monarch's sister in the divorce courts? Watch this space.

A busy day without Kathleen who never works Mondays, and Carol J who has the 'flu. The painter L.S. Lowry died today, and so too did Angela Baddeley, the actress. Other items in the news include several government resignations over the Chancellor's public expenditure cuts, and it looks as though Harold's second anniversary in No. 10 is going to be a stormy one. Will Margaret Thatcher be Prime Minister? Are we going to see a Tory government this year? Will Rod Stewart marry Britt Ekland? Oh, the excitement of it all is too much.

John and Maria go see Delia Collis tonight about the flowers for the wedding. I watched TV with Mum, Dad, Lynn, Sue & Peter. Carole didn't ring because I rang her this morning to tell her that one of the 'Supremes' (an ancient band of Negro singers), has died at the grand old age of 32. Other than this, I can report little else until tomorrow and so it leaves me only to say 'Goodnight'.

-==-

Wednesday February 11, 1976

I get up at two minutes to 8 and discover that I've mislaid Jim Rawnsley somewhere. A thin layer of snow covers the ground and John has some difficulty getting (his car) up the Blackwell's drive, and I find myself shovelling ice and snow like Hell, whilst he scatters grit from a bucket.

Catch a bus to Leeds and arrive at the YP just before nine o'clock feeling tired, run-down and shagged out.

See in the papers that Eleanor Dixie, daughter of the late Sir Wolstan Dixie, 13th Baronet, is going to claim the title for herself. She fails to se why women are excluded from holding peerages and baronetcies. I'm in total agreement with this. In fact I decide to write to the Garter King of Arms or someone to lodge my strong approval of Miss Dixie's claim. The Equal Opportunities Act should really have ended this discrimination when it came into force. Opening the peerage to both sexes will help slow down the rate of extinctions, and that can't be a bad thing. Certain ancient titles can of course he inherited by either sex, but these only number 14 or 15, and the total number of peerages amount to over 500 I think.

Meanwhile: back to the office. At lunchtime I still feel listless and washed-out & so I seek an audience of Kathleen, and she tells me to go home. Eileen thinks I'm joking and thinks I'm secretly meeting someone in town, but I get the 2.30 bus out of Leeds.

Lynn and Dad are in at home. Poor Lynn is still one of the unemployed 'school-leaver' types and she says that her qualifications are too good for most offices where she's applied for jobs. They all want dumb, large-breasted blondes, with pea-like brains, just to make the tea and type envelopes. Lynn just isn't the office junior type. She feels desperate really because she's not a lazy sort of kid and staying at home all day just revolts her.

I sit in the lounge with a cup of tea browsing through Burke's Peerage planning my line of attack to get all these wronged would-be peeresses acknowledged.

I got in the bath at 8.30 and Carole came round at 9 o'clock to see if I am still in the land of the living. She goes at 9.20. I stand and watch her skip happily down the lane.

-==-

Monday January 5, 1976

Everyone is back in the routine now. Christmas is over after what seems like eight weeks of merry making and festivities.

To Leeds with Jim Rawnsley at 8am. The only thing worth reading in the papers today is the tale that Lord Grosvenor, son of the Duke of Westminster, will probably marry Princess Marie-Christine of Belgium. You may think I revel in trivia and poppycock but that's how I was made and none of you can do anything to help me. Some people read only the sports pages, others gloat over grizzly court cases - I just happen to like gossip and high society news.

While I'm on the subject of scandal, you may as well hear my opinion on the Douro-Hunnicutt affair. I categorically state that Marquess Douro will NEVER marry Gayle Hunnicutt, the actress. I'm willing to put my shirt on it.

Carole rings at lunchtime and I tell her of Uncle Harry's offer to 'put us up' for the night on Feb 7. She likes the idea.

My lips cracked again today. I think the cold weather is responsible. Uncle Harry isn't the only guy who may be quiting these fair, damp islands for the eternal sun and paradise of the Continent. First Englebert Humperdink, then Elton John, Rod Stewart, and now Uncle Harry! Denis Healey's taxes are driving all the talent from these shores and I don't think he'll realise what a national loss it is until someone of REAL genius departs... like.... er...er... ME.

Dave L rings at 7pm to say he can't make it to 'Monty Python and the Holy Grail' tomorrow. Carole rings again at 7.10 and I inform her we're going on Wednesday instead. We were both pleasant and cheerful with each other.