Tuesday August 14, 1979

_. Dull day. I won't bore you with the details of the office. Later, Ally and I sitting on a sofa. Imagine the scene. She's reading 'Decline and Fall', and I'm eating perhaps the juiciest, squirty orange ever grown. Ally is soaked in orange juice, pips dangling from her perm, the pages of Evelyn Waugh's masterpiece stuck together.

Ally started reading 'Watership Down' but didn't get past page 18. I can understand why.

In the news: Princess Margaret and Roddy Llewellyn are on holiday in Marbella. They flew out 'incognito'  to a villa owned by the Philippines ambassador to the UK. When will she make a honest man of him?

Poor, maligned Princess Anne enters her thirtieth year tomorrow. Since her marriage to 'Fog' Phillips [fog because according to Charles he's 'thick and wet'] she has gone into a steady decline in the affections of the public. According to a new biography she and the Prince of Wales hate each other, and the prince resents Mark Phillips, considering him to be of low intelligence.

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Tuesday May 25, 1976

A Traumatic evening. At about 7 o'clock Lynn cut her finger on a corned beef tin and collapsed in the kitchen while Sue and I looked on in horror. Lynn isn't the squeamish type at all, and I am startled to see a normal, level headed girl flaking out at the sight of a splash of blood. She was soon conscious and pulled round. The poor thing shed a few tears, but David was clowning around in his usual fashion in order to revive her. When she was fully recovered she and Sue entertained David and Peter to a meal whilst I languished in the bath 'to keep out of the way'. See a film on BBC1 - 'Three Into One Won't Go', or perhaps 'Two into One Won't Go' or was it three? Starring Rod Steiger and one of the Geeson tarts. I have seen it before and cannot say that I am impressed by it. Better than 'Coronation Street' anyway.

Bed after eleven.

(Go on, I bet you're all asking bed after eleven what? Well it isn't what you think. It wasn't eleven women, or men for that matter. Neither did I devour eleven oranges or take eleven peeps at my life-sized colour photograph of a naked Angela Rippon - in fact it was after the hour of eleven o'clock. Goodnight to one and all.)

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