Tuesday February 20, 1973

Mum woke me at 8.50. She says a letter had come for me. I immediately thought it was the long-awaited letter from college. "No", she said. "It's a girl's handwriting". I was downstairs before I knew what I was doing. Yes, it was June's handwriting. It was such a beautiful letter. As I suspected, she was not at work yesterday, but looking after her auntie Nellie who has a bad knee or something. I immediately reply to her letter, but alas I don't even have the money for a stamp. So I have to wait until Mum comes home to post it. I began doing a bit of homework at 11.15, but my thoughts keep going back to June. It's such a beautiful day!
I have just been going through this weeks "Economist" and I am surprised - nay shocked -to read one certain paragraph which states that the majority of the British people would be behind the Prime Minister if he decided on a general election over the ruddy gas workers union plot etc. It is horrifying to think that in such an election the government might be defeated, thrusting that infernal little creep Wilson back into office. God! I couldn't stand it. Actually, the British people are sick to death of the unions laying down the law and the time has come for us to stop them. They pick and choose which acts of parliament to obey. Besides, if the gas workers do on strike for a month, which they intend doing, a large proportion of the country will decide that they would prefer to suffer real discomfort for the long term national interest. What with Ireland, the currency crisis, and the gas board - poor Ted Heath certainly has a lot on his plate.


Revised the Labour Govt 1945-51 this afternoon. Ate at 5. Watched the tv until 9.30 and then drifted aimlessly upstairs where I now sit scribbling my diary. I will make a start on Mrs Harris's project tomorrow. It must be finished by all costs on Monday. With a bit of luck June might get my letter tomorrow but one can no longer rely on the GPO to get the Queen's mail through - the same applies to everything else which is nationalized. The government soon forget about them and they fall into a state of disrepair. This week is dragging without school. I have become attached to it sinceI first went there in Sept 1971. But I have to go out into the big wide world sooner or later.

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