Wednesday October 13, 1982

 Dark morning. To Leeds after boiled eggs for breakfast and a few snatches of conversation with Ally. We are buying books on the scale of a major city library. I want the diaries of Harold Nicolson, Evelyn Waugh, Noel Coward, Beatrice Webb, &c. I have been in Austick's looking at published diaries. Diarists always come across as pompous, and nearly all are shatteringly world famous. Is it silly of me to keep a journal? OK, I don't take lunch at my club with the Financial Secretary to the Treasury, or dine with the Duchess of Windsor at Maxim's, but I do make a contribution, don't I? 

Mum phoned. Dr Glass saw Susan. ____________. The Stockport trip is still on , but it doesn't look good. Ally phoned me this afternoon. Quest Travel cannot give us a flight to Lanzarote on Dec 2, but can do one for the same price on Nov 18. £115 each isn't bad. 

Home to Ally and mince and dumplings. 

Prince Andrew flew back from Mustique [illegible] very much like the Queen as he left the plane. That same fixed, nervous expression. Koo [Stark] has gone on to St Lucia. It is reported that HM paid for the tickets and is very aware of Miss Stark's naughty films. Our sovereign is very broad minded. I bet she's been watching 'Emily' on the little cinema at Sandringham.

-=-

Wednesday August 8, 1979

_. Margaret and Jim came here this evening instead of the traditional Thursday because they are venturing to Redcar tomorrow. They do not enthuse about the prospects of a wet day at the races. I bet they end up at the White Cross at lunch time.

I have neglected my royal deliberations recently. What with the Queen's victorious visit to Zambia and the escapades of the Prince of Wales and Prince Andrew with the Guinness sisters I have had ample opportunity to lecture, but have held back. You must forgive this boring patch.

I retired to bed at 12 full to bursting with pork pies and salad sandwiches. I will resemble Orson Welles before long.

-=-

Monday March 26, 1979

_. Are all the Daves in my journal causing confusion? I do try to put the initial of the surname of each Dave after his name in an entry, and so Dave Lawson is Dave L and Dave Baker is Dave B, &c. Dave Glynn is obviously Dave Y, and Dave Wainwright is Arthur Hailey. Prince Andrew = David Ben Gurion, and the late Duke of Windsor, always David to his family, is now Wally.

Uncle Tony's mother, Mrs Doris Gadsby, was cremated at Rawdon this morning. She died at Pudsey last Thursday. The poor old girl was deserted by her husband, Norman, in 1937, and nobody has heard of him since.

Alison phoned Lynn today. All is now over between her and John Pinder. She now wants to move back to Yorkshire and take a flat in the vicinity but until this is achieved then she will come and live with us. Isn't this exciting, folks? Our little Ally coming to Pine Tops. I informed Mama that I will write to Alison and invite her to stay with us because she is far too bashful to suggest this herself.

"Fear is realising you can't do it the second time, and panic is realising for the second time that you can't do it." Eh? I don't get that.

The poor, broken Shah [of Iran] would like to come and die of a broken heart here in Britain, but the revolting Socialist MPs are protesting. What possible harm can the old boy do? The harshness and cruelty of the jealous crew at Westminster is forever reaching new bounds. They would leap around with joy, urinating in their pin-striped trousers if the Ayatollah purchased Buckinghamshire or Chou En-Lai took over Mentmore Towers. Did anyone complain when Ben Lyon came to live here? Precisely. Besides, just think how our economy would be boosted by all those millions of Iranian rupees, or whatever the Iranian currency is. I doubt very much that His Imperial Majesty would want to live off our social security. It's a repeat of the Tsar Nicholas case in 1918.

Watched "Fawlty Towers" on the BBC ~ the last of the series which is very sad.

Peter came here at 8. Susan sat making a rug and he sat facing her in another chair. Normally they are joined together on a sofa, but I suppose we all tire of constant molestation after years and years of endless groping.

Bed at 12 with The Secret of Chimneys. Lay there listening to the wind howling outside.

-=-

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

-=-

Sunday February 19, 1978

2nd Sunday in Lent

A quiet day. Have felt very tired this weekend and have relished bed more than usual. When I eventually decided to emerge Susan & Peter were making lunch. Pork, Yorkshire puddings (flat ones), and roast potatoes. The aroma from the kitchen is one I will never forget.

I joked with Peter about Prince Andrew and his £20,000 income. 'What does an 18 year-old want with so much money?' he asks. I replied, much to his great annoyance, that the prince needs every penny for his new Aston Martin and the jewels he is buying for Kirsty Richmond. I love antagonising Nason. But I was surprised to read in the Sunday Express that our beloved chancellor, Denis Healey, is looking after Prince Andrew's cash until the time comes when HRH takes up royal duties. Bloody Hell, Andy, don't let Healey lay one greedy, slimy finger on it. Before you know where you are the man will have ploughed your money into the coffers of British Leyland or the Crown Agents.

Mum and Dad are home at about 4. They say Windermere was frozen and skating was to be seen there. Dad says the sight was like a de-industrialised Lowry painting. They've had a happy, but cold weekend.

I spent all day and night eating like a horse and watching television. Yes, Clarke Gable in 'China Seas' (1936) and the dramatisation of James Herriot's vet books on the BBC. Also watched 'Moulin Rouge' based on the life of Toulouse Lautrec and finally 'Julius Caesar' starring James Mason, Marlon Brando and Sir John Gielgud. My eyeballs are square.

-=-

Wednesday January 11, 1978

Snow, gales and blizzards today. Went to the YP feeling peculiarly industrious and worked without a lunch break until 4:30. Marita brought me to Rawdon which was a help. I ate like a horse on getting home and felt bloated and uncomfortable afterwards.

More 'gush' in the morning papers about Prince Andrew and his 'sweetheart'. Editors throughout the kingdom must have tired of the firemen's strike and the prime minister's visit to India because front page news for a royal prince is quite rare these days.

Ernest Bishop: assassinated.

Reading 'The Scarlet Pimpernel' by that baroness. I really should have read this at 14 or 15 but in those days - Oh how far they seem off now - I was into the heavy volumes of reminiscences of lofty 18th century geezers and had no time for childish fiction.

A play starring Hugh Lloyd on BBC2 caught my attention. This was followed by Deborah Kerr in 'The Prisoner of Zenda', Oh and the assassination of Ernest Bishop on 'Coronation Street' shook the entire nation. The Queen has sent a personal message of sympathy to the surviving cast.

I intended having a bath but by midnight I was no nearer my watery end and I sat listening to the roar of a 70 mph gale on Hawksworth Lane. The late TV news featured our seasonal weather as the main item of information and Mama quivered from head to foot. My God! If we can't have a spot of nasty weather in January when can we? What do they down at the meteorological office expect? A bloody heatwave or something? A sandstorm or a drought? Weather, and talking about it, is the British disease.

-=-

Tuesday January 10, 1978

Snow today. The first of the year. By lunchtime in Leeds though it was quite free of abominable white flakes and a blustery wind blew instead.

Bumped into Sharon and Susan Kirk in town. They are the granddaughters of my grandmother's sister, Aunt Annie Kirk. Sharon I have always liked and she offers to give me a lift home from Leeds any time I may need one. She works for the Civil Service at Darley House. She mentioned the photos I took of Auntie Annie & Uncle John kissing last month.

This evening Martyn called in at 6:30 for an hour and took away the ring which Uncle Harry gave me. It needs repairing. The ring originally belonged to my great-grandfather, John Rhodes, who was given it on his 21st birthday, in June, 1887. Martyn's going to see what he can do to restore it to its former glory.

Hey, I have mentioned that Naomi's invited me to her 21st birthday party on January 28? Yes, she gave me the invitation on Friday. I really like Naomi more and more. You could put the two of us in a boat and dump us in the mid Atlantic and I'd be quite happy.

I have decided that, out of protest, I definitely now, or in future, won't read a book on King James II. The barbarous way he butchered the Duke of Monmouth and his supporters nauseates me. Had I been living in 1685 I'd have been out on Hawksworth Lane yelling for 'Good King Monmouth'. God Rest his Soul.

Prince Andrew is escorting a fellow inmate from his school (Gordonstoun) to Sandringham where the Royal Family have been holidaying. The girl is Kirsty Richmond, a 17 year-old, and the opinion of the Daily Mail is that HRH is taking after his big brother. 1978 is going to be the year in which Prince Andrew makes his debut in the Press as a whoring, wenching Casanova. As if we don't have enough of this with the Prince of Wales and Prince Michael. The poor boy will have this sort of intrusion every time he's seen within a hundred yards radius of a female - until the day he marries. Poor soul, and even after he marries the rumours and stories will go on.

Saw a Glenda Jackson film based on a book by H.E. Bates and retired at 1:00.

Tuesday September 6, 1977

Lady Jane Wellesley

Chatting with Uncle Harry tonight we decided to form a new political party. The National Rhodes Party, or the NRP. I'm going to be chancellor, Mum is going to put on her big hat and make history by being the first woman Home Secretary, and Uncle H is earmarked for Prime Minister. The small moustache and grey hair are his credentials. We haven't yet decided just what job Dad will fill, but no doubt we'll come up with something. A good idea, don't you think? We would do a damn sight better than Mr Callaghan and Company, of this I'm sure.


The YP was up to its usual standard. Kathleen was a pain in the neck and Sarah was in a ghastly mood all day. So we had quite a cheerful time of it.

Harry: Prime Minister.

One of the papers (the Sun, I think) says Lady Jane Wellesley is back on the scene with the Prince of Wales. The woman is in her 27th year and I hardly think she's up to any rigorous sessions of child-bearing which will of course be necessary if she marries the heir. Besides, we don't want a Queen with ________.Will she do for Prince Andrew, perhaps?


Watched TV tonight. Mum, Dad and Harry went to the Commercial for a quick one, and it was on their arrival home at 10.30 that the plans for Britain's new political leadership emerged.

-=-

Monday July 26, 1976

A warm, overcast day. Maria's 18th birthday. She always looks and behaves much older though and this is probably a good thing - her being in her present condition. Nothing looks more pathetic than a child expectant mother. Janice Beaumont always looked ridiculously infantile and I winced each and every time I saw her.

Work was busy. Eileen is away on holiday for a couple of weeks.

The Royal Family returned from Canada today. It was the first time that all the family had been abroad together - that is the Queen and Duke of Edinburgh and four offspring. Prince Andrew has caused something of a sensation. Women everywhere are saying he's the most handsome bit of royalty they have ever seen. Even the unbending Sue Bradley on the EP thinks he's ravishing. She's old enough to be his mother.

Meanwhile: that night:- After tea with Mum, Dad, Lynn, Sue and Julie Nason, Peter's sister, I rang Maria to congratulate her on her birthday. She says John bought her a handbag, a purse, wallet, necklace and apron! For a guy who detests shopping he seems to have done rermarkably well. Lynn and Mum also have a word with her.

The bloody Olympic Games dominates the TV all night and at 10.30 after everyone had retired to bed (Dad started work at 10pm) I watched a western film until midnight.

By the way. I spoke to Delia Collis this afternoon.

-==-

Monday November 3, 1975

Lynn woke me at 7am to remind me it was time for work but I tell her I'm having a morning in bed to rid myself of this blasted chill or whatever it is. John isn't in, and his bed hasn't been slept in. Mum comes in at 8am on the rampage saying that she hasn't slept a wink all night worrying over John's whereabouts. Just as she's wailing and raising her eyes to the heavens John comes in and I hear him telling Lynn something about Maria's grandfather. He comes up and says that the old man was taken ill at about midnight, and he stayed with Maria whilst the so-called emergency doctor came, some two hours later. John played holy war about the doctor, a foul smelling ____. The poor old man could have died, and he was rushed to hospital by ambulance at 4am. The whole house stank of curry after the doctor had left, which made them feel quite ill. The health service is collapsing.

I kicked about the bedroom until about 10.30 and then plunged into a hot bath, which did some good to clear my head.

Looking in at the television at 12.30 I saw the Queen turning on our supplies of North Sea oil at Dyce in Scotland. The programme lasted 30 minutes or so, and probably symbolises the climb of Gt Britain to a great economy once more. The Queen was accompanied by the Duke of Edinburgh, Prince Andrew and the Prime Minister. It is obvious that the Queen and duke are fond of old Harold, and HM sat with an expression of loving affection across her face whilst the old boy made a little speech about our oil supplies.

Carole rang before lunch and said Mr & Mrs Macdonald had now returned home and learned about Grandad's illness. She also said that I'd be getting a large letter in the post tomorrow. I think she's a bit upset about 'The Braithwaite Affair'.

Watch TV this evening, but nothing of real importance is on. Need I say that General Franco is still hanging on to life with all the strength he can muster? Juan Carlos took over as head of state the other day, but no doubt he's wishing that the crown can be safely upon his head before the peasants become restless. Goodnight.

-==-

Wednesday September 24, 1975

Two years ago at about this time we all drew the conclusion that our beloved Prince of Wales would make Miss Amelia Rose Clifton his princess. Rosie Clifton, however, must have different intentions, because after finishing with the prince at Balmoral she tagged herself along with old Prince Michael of Kent. This romance too proved useless because earlier this year she married the younger brother of millionaire Lord Vestey and became the Hon Mrs Mark Vestey.

The horror story circulating Fleet Street at the moment is that His Royal Highness the Prince of Wales is attached to MRS Rosalind Ward, a married mother with two children. Tut, tut. This will never do. The Duke of Windsor was all very well, but we don't want another one. The prince will be 27 in November and if he's not married soon I intend washing my hands of him.

Let's hope Prince Andrew will find the marriage market easier to deal with when it falls his lot to give the nation a Duchess of York.

John's birthday tomorrow. I think I'll buy him a record or something similar. He's the owner of far too many pullovers, shirts, socks and trousers and they're beyond my price-range at the moment.


-==-

Wednesday February 19, 1975

Beautiful day. A crisp morning with the sun as big as a football following us all the way to Leeds. One would hardly believe it's 93,000,000 miles away, or something equally fantastic.
Margaret Thatcher picked her shadow Cabinet yesterday. Willie Whitelaw is the deputy leader, and the repulsive Sir Geoffrey Howe is 'Chancellor'. Peter Walker and Geoffrey Rippon have received the boot, as it were, and the prodigal Reggie Maudling's been forgiven all his sin sand receives the Foreign and Commonwealth job. Definately a right wing leap for the Tories but I can't say that I disagree. The country needs a good old Churchillian party.

Go to town with Eileen at lunchtime and spend £1 on absolutely nothing. Must be a sign of the times. I can recall the days when I got one shilling and six pence a week, and on Friday I still had change in my pocket.

Prince Andrew is having another quiet birthday today. The Queen and the Duke of Edinburgh are of course out in the Bahamas; the Prince of Wales, the Duke and Duchess of Gloucester, and Earl Mountbatten are in Nepal for the coronation of the King; Princess Margaret is on holiday in the sun, and Lord Snowdon is working in Australia. No one to help him celebrate. I bet they've had a job finding counsellors of state. The Hon Gerald Lascelles and the late Lady Patricia Ramsay will be acting in this capacity no doubt.

To the Hare with John, Naomi and Gillian. The latter young lady certainly knows how to keep hold of someone. Just because I got carried away with her in Peter's van last Friday she thinks I ought to be infatuated for life. Not on her Nellie. Chris, Laura and (Jane's) Helen joined us. Boring really.

-==-

Tuesday February 19, 1974

Kathleen is worrying about the holidays this year. Everyone appears to be arranging weeks off except me. When I arrive home I discuss the details with John. We decide it would be nice to go to Windsor in June, when the Trooping of the Colour takes place of course. However, I am ignorant of the actual date upon which the Queen celebrates her official birthday this year. Anyway, I soon remedy the fact by ringing the YP library where Ray tells me that the event occurs on Saturday June 15. We make up our minds to stay with Uncle John and Auntie Sheila - all being well anyway - from June 8 to June 16. I could not miss my annual London excursion for anything in the world.

At 6.30 I had my third driving lesson.Feel much more confident than I did on last Tuesday's race around Horsforth. The bloke is a great guy. I am booked through until the end of March on the same day at the same time. If I don't pass first time round I will be resigned to the fact that I am an absolute failure.

A pleasant unusually mild day. Prince Andrew is 14 today, and I am disgusted with Yorkshire Post Newspapers for not flying the Union Jack above the building, which was so at 8.45 this morning, but at 1 o'clock when I went out for lunch, I was pleased to see the flag hoist above the bright, carefree skies of Leeds. It all goes to show that nationalism and patriotism is not yet dead in this decaying country of ours. Even the girls knew what flag flying day it was without being informed - the YP girls I mean - not my own dearest sisters.

See tv in the evening, and have a bath. The General Election is still the main topic. I am sick of hearing Harold Wilson insulting Lord Hailsham, and vice versa. Utterly sick of politics.

-==-

Monday February 19, 1973

Prince Andrew, the 2nd in line of sucession to the throne, became a teeny-bopper today. He's 13. He's spending the day at school. In the old days a prince would have "had all the works" on his birthday.
Mum got me up at 8.30 and then left for work. I suspect that she had a lift in Major Smith's car.
After breakfast I walked down to White Cross Post Office with £1.55. I must keep up the deposits until June. The weather is cloudy and overcast. The walk down Thorpe Lane gave some exercise at least. I don't do enough walking, not like a few years ago when I had the paper round - I must have walked miles every morning. At about 12.30 Sue made my lunch which consisted of beans on toast. Mum came home at 1pm just as I was leaving for Bradford Library.
I was in Bradford for 2 o'clock and the clock in the centre chimed out two strokes as I crossed the courtyard of the impressive Central Library. I remained there until nearly 4. I took out 2 books on the Labour Government 1945-51. Dad almost had a fit when he saw these books. Both of them state that the British public rejected the Conservative party in 1945 and not Winston Churchill. The general drift being that Churchill was above party politics - an international statesman and not just a Tory. Dad went berserk, saying Churchill was a "Blue Tory just like Enoch Powell is today..." and "a War Monger". A typical socialist viewpoint. In my opinion Churchill was a great man and this cannot be denied by anybody.
Arrived home at 4.30. Sat about watching Blue Peter. Ate at 5.15.
A boring evening watching the television which was most uninteresting. Alison came round at 8 to watch the cowboy series "Alias Smith and Jones", a very far-fetched comedy style western. Not a good programme. See on the news that the French World War One hero, Marshal Petain, has been stolen from his grave - some people will do anything for publicity!
Had some supper at 10.30 and came to bed. I cannot wait until Thursday. June is the longest surviving girlfriend I have ever had. She doesn't realise that I have always had my eye on her. I remember last year when all the boys used to fancy her. Now she's my girlfriend. What a month it has been.

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