Saturday December 16, 1978

Sun rises 08:00

Sun sets 15:52

Sunny and warm. Dave G's cheque arrived from Stockport in a  registered envelope and at 12:30 I caught a bus and buggered off to Bradford to pay the holiday deposit. The city was like the streets of Teheran have been in recent weeks and I resolved to remain in this swarming metropolis for as little as possible.

Met Denise at WH Smith's. She is remarkably thinner. I paid up and then carried her off to the Painted Wagon. It has been so long since we last met it is almost pointless trying to catch up on our experiences. We say we must have a night out soon, but how many times have we promised ourselves this and then done absolutely nothing about it?

Tonight Denise is going with Chris R to see Dave & Laura Pattison (Laura, nee Butchart). Chris and Michelle have finished. Denise is very changed. I suppose she thinks the same of me.

Lucy Lindsay-Hogg

Home at 3:30 to drink sherry with Mum and Susie. The wedding photographs of Lord Snowdon and Lucy Lindsay-Hogg are on the front pages of the newspapers. She is quite ugly. Her arrival at the register office is reminiscent of a housewife dashing to the Co~op  for a pack of toilet rolls. I feel so sorry for Princess Margaret because she has suffered irreparable damage this year over her divorce and friendship with Roddy Llewellyn. The divorce would never have happened but for the fact that Snowdon wanted to re~marry. She must be sad and lonely.

Tonight Lynn and Dave came and we sat round the Christmas tree drinking lager with whisky chasers until 1 in the morning. Mum was quite drunk and became quite nasty. When Sue and Pete came in she turned on Peter like a wild animal. Poor Susan was upset and I consoled her upstairs. She says Mum is always horrible with Peter when Dave B is present. David Baker is Mum's blue~eyed boy.

David severely gashed his finger on a corned~beef tin and the climax of the evening was a violent argument about Lillie Langtry. Mum and Lynn said she was a prostitute. A King's mistress can never be a prostitute.

-=-

Thursday December 14, 1978

Full Moon 12:31

Christmas Carols: nostalgia ....

I am writing this entry by candlelight. The time, if it means anything to you, is 1:21am on December 15, 1978. I, your beloved narrator, am slightly pissed following a Jim and Margaret Nason session, but fear not for my sanity. Candles can be so hypnotic, can't they? I can sit and stare into the flames for hours ~ they bring such peace and tranquillity to a 20th century room. They have given an almost sacred appearance to our dining room. Margaret Nason's Christmas Carol LP is playing "Hark! The Herald Angels Sing" ~ it's one of my favourite hymns. Nostalgia really hits a peak when the wonderful carols come out at Christmas. (OK, you've made your bloody point.)

Guess what? I arrived home at 6 o'clock after an afternoon at the YP playing cards with Eileen and Mum said: "What about Lord Snowdon and Lucy, then?" She caught me by surprise. The Earl of Snowdon and Lucy Mary Lindsay-Hogg are to marry tomorrow in Kensington.  ______.

Capital punishment: debate

Jim and Margaret came here at 9 and stayed until about 1am. Peter came at about 11:30 in the midst of "As With Gladness Men of Old". We debated capital punishment (again) and the arming of the police. Quite a fiery argument.

It is now 1:59am and I'm going to clear things up. The house looks like a nuclear missile testing site.







-=-

Wednesday May 10, 1978

A hot day. I have a red face after last night under the sun ray lamp.

Had an interesting conversation with Kathleen this morning on the subject of political assassinations and kidnapping. She mocked and ridiculed me when I said an 'Aldo Moro situation' could easily arise in this country. For instance, old Harold Macmillan could be snatched from his bed tonight and murdered and six weeks later his body could be dumped in Mayfair. This, in violent 1978 is no preposterous, hypothetical statement. Kathleen screamed with laughter, saying political horrors of this natured originated in Britain and that we have now tired of killing our elder statesmen. To illustrate her argument she said: "Look at Spencer Perceval for instance."

I think she's missing the point. The antics of bewigged 18th century politicians cannot be likened to Red Brigade terrorist atrocities in Italy. It is only a matter of time before a leading British politician is held hostage by a fanatical English (or Irish) group.

Sarah and I howled as Kathleen ranted on about the Black and Tans and Carson, Spencer Perceval's assassination and the plight of Marie Antoinette.

"Go eat cake", Kathleen, dear, that's my advice to you.

It was announced at 2:30 that Princess Margaret and the Earl of Snowdon are to divorce. It seems that Tony wishes to marry Lucy Lindsay-Hogg.

I cannot imagine the Princess marrying Roddy Llewellyn following the recent attacks upon her and her way of life. What with this and the fact that she's still hospitalized with gastroentiritis I don't think the Queen's sister will be a very happy woman today.

Have had pleasant transport experiences this week. British Rail have enjoyed my company on several mornings and nights (except Monday) and Papa accompanied me yesterday and today. The fare to Leeds is now 37p one way for me. I do believe that in the early 70s I only used to pay 44p return. The robbing pigs.

A letter from David L awaits me tonight. He simply says he's using Dad as a reference for a job in general management at Littlewood's. He's applied for a job there. Poor David's become so disillusioned with teaching. I am sure that the responsibility has aged him.

I phoned Jacq at 7:10pm. She was out. I'll bet some Greek has her out somewhere in a wine bar. They are invariably called Panos.

Ursula phoned several times tonight with enquiries about Princess Margaret's divorce. (i) How many royals have divorced since King Henry VIII? (ii) Could Lord Harewood's illegitimate son, Mark Lascelles, ever be King of England? (iii) Did King George IV divorce Queen Caroline?

I told her about Princess Marie Louise's divorce from Aribert of Anhalt in 1900, and Princess Victoria Melita's divorce in 1901 from the Grand Duke of Hesse. Both these women were granddaughters of Queen Victoria. I told her that Mark Lascelles was excluded from the line of succession, and on George IV's divorce I told her that Caroline died whilst the trial was still going on in 1821, and so, no.

However, Margaret's divorce is the closest in relationship to the monarch since Tudor times.

Saw 'The Winslow Boy' on tv tonight starring Eric Porter and the Dotrice female. It was excellent.

To bed with a sun-tanned glowing face at 11:35.

-=-

Friday March 3, 1978

Christine and I were supposed to have a mad evening fling at Oakwood Hall but I'm told Philip H is taking her out instead.  I phoned CB at 2 and we were both miserable about our humourless, forthcoming weekend, but it can't be helped. Instead, we may go next Thursday.

At lunchtime Eileen and I went to the Ostlers for a quick one. She doesn't touch alcohol now that she's on a crash diet, but nobody deters me from my pint of lager. Eileen is having a 21st birthday party on May 28, and so it's going to be a proper battle in the library to get the day off on May 29.

To the alcoholic refreshment this evening.  My friends do not inspire me one bit. ________________.

Mustique: Princess Margaret and Lady Lichfield.

Have I mentioned Princess Margaret and Roddy Llewellyn recently? The royal couple are scorching themselves on the island of Mustique, no doubt discussing plans for the future. The princess at the Earl of Snowdon have been separated for 2 years this month and can be divorced forthwith. The camera-mad earl is enraptured with Lucy Lindsay-Hogg, his assistant, and some newspapers say they want to settle down. Things however are very different for Margaret. If she wished to marry Roddy then a constitutional crisis could easily occur. The Queen's consent is required and I'm sure Dr Cobweb, the Archbishop of Canterbury, won't like it. Once again, my sympathy goes out to the poor sovereign lady to whom we all look for guidance.

-=-

Monday February 13, 1978

A nasty, disappointing day. At the YP I find that Eileen is the only occupant of the Library ~ so that's an end to the Rawtenstall venture. Sarah is off with a stomach upset and Mrs ______ has 'the flu', or so we are informed by her horribly snobby mother. If this is the case the next time I have a cold I'm going to phone in and tell them I'm having an abortion.

I phoned Chris and told him I couldn't make it and he was good about it. He may not even go himself because of the weather.

At lunchtime I purchased three Valentine's cards and despatched them to Christine, Jacqui, and WPC Carolle Jones. I thought of sending one to Carole but decided against it. Fogarty would only make her life more of a Hell than it already is. It's a great pity that we cannot be friendly and nice to each other.

To other things: Mrs Thatcher's been making an impact at Harrogate where a Young Conservative thing is going on. She has an eleven per cent lead over the government according to an opinion poll (Ha Ha) but it seems that Callabum is determined to hang on until the Spring of 1979.

Peter Townsend was interviewed on TV tonight where he discussed Princess Margaret for the first time. He seems remarkable for a 63 year-old. Would things, one wonders, have worked out less sordid for the Princess had she married the Group Captain in 1955? Her love life since has definitely been one ghastly misfortune after another. Indeed, in a month's time the Snowdons will have been separated for 2 years and entitled to divorce. Snowdon wants to marry Mrs Lucy Lindsay-Hogg, reputedly his mistress. We shall have to wait and see.

To bed with Baroness Orczy at 12. Fell asleep with the bedroom light burning brightly.

-=-

Sunday January 15, 1978

2nd Sunday after Epiphany. Out of bed at 1:00pm to my rabbit luncheon. I feel really proud. Almost like a Stonehenge warrior must have felt on making his first kill for the table. Something very close to nature and instinctive about killing for ones nosh. It was fabulous too.

Townsend and Margaret.

This afternoon I continued my reading marathon and was just contemplating drifting off to sleep when Mum attracted my attention by suggesting we should go to see Auntie Mabel. We went at 7:00 o'clock. She's in fine fettle and ladens us with food and drink. We sat chatting until after 10.

Items in the news: A famous American politician has gone and died. His name escapes me for the minute. It's something like Lyndon Johnson or Horatio C. Wallace, III. Peter Townsend's first wife, Rosemary, went out  and married Lord Camden, a 80 year-old landowner. The horrid group captain is, at this very moment, spilling the beans on his affair with Princess Margaret. This is unforgivable of him and the desolate princess must be on the verge of ending it all. It is rumoured that Lord Snowdon will marry Mrs Lindsay-Hogg in the Spring.

-=-

Tuesday September 28, 1976

The news in brief: Maria was taken into Hyde Terrace Hospital at lunchtime and I fully expect to be an uncle before Friday or it, the baby, will have my wrath to contend with.

Miss Lynn Rhodes and Mr David Baker have been deeply in love now for exactly two years and a celebration to mark the event was held accordingly.

Lynne rang from Thornton-le-Dale at 8.30 and I say I'll meet her at the airport at 9am tomorrow. The line was bad, at her end anyway, and she doesn't hear a word I say.

Lucy Lindsay-Hogg was in some of the papers over the weekend. Will she be Countess of Snowdon one day? You never can tell.

Bed at 12.04am on Wednesday morning. Read Wodehouse's 'Do Butlers Burgle Banks?'

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