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.

-=-

Wednesday August 1, 1979

_. Still wet today. It's so-called Yorkshire Day. I refuse to have anything to do with such a parochial celebration. A nauseating white flag is hanging limply over the YP building. It looks as if we have surrendered to one of the larger national newspapers. Have we perhaps under siege from the Morning Star and the Socialist Worker?

The Queen Mother was today installed as the 160th Lord Warden of the Cinque Ports at Dover Castle. I viewed the ceremonial on TV. The gale force winds and driving torrents of rain failed to wipe that beautiful smile from Her Majesty's face. She must have been water-logged. The Queen Mother was accompanied by Prince Edward, Viscount Linley and Lady Sarah Armstrong-Jones. Lady Sarah looked plump and sad, no doubt thinking about her father and new half-sister. The Snowdon's new baby is to be Lady Frances. Princess Margaret, stricken by 'flu, is confined to her cabin on the Royal Yacht Britannia.

Ally is depressed tonight. She went to Club Street with Susan and Peter and returned half an hour later down in the dumps. Sue and Pete had gone on and on criticising the place, pulling it to pieces. Ally, being the person she is took it all to heart.

Karen phoned to say that she and Stephen are having some sort of function tomorrow and would we all like to attend. I said yes, but Susan and Peter made no response. __________.

-=-

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.

-=-

Monday October 2, 1978

New Moon 07:41

Jewish New Year 5739 {Rosh Hashanah}

Mum says we must visit John and Maria before Christmas. She says Port Patrick is a lovely place. They say JPH swears like a trooper and attacks any innocent people passing through Lochans whenever he gets the chance. Words like 'bastard', 'shit' and 'bugger' feature strongly in his vocabulary. My Uncle Albert would have been proud indeed.

Jacq phoned this afternoon. _____________.

Peter N phoned this evening. His friend Frank Hall was injured in a car accident on the Chevin Road in Guiseley this evening. He's unconscious in hospital. He was here on Friday eating curry and trying to avoid Sue's apple crumble. Frightening really.

Princess Margaret is now in Australia recovering after an attack of fever which prevented her carrying out official duties in Tuvalu, a pin~prick of an island that was once the Ellice Islands. She was taken seriously ill aboard a New Zealand ship.

-=-

Monday August 21, 1978

Mrs Christine Newton, Princess Margaret and the Hon Gerald Lascelles are leaping around in their carpet slippers today tearing open birthday cards & presents, and devouring large chunks of iced fruit cake. I haven't laid eyes on Mrs Newton since the day of her marriage in August last year. She may be dead. She may be expecting a multiple birth to fill the bedrooms of her pleasant semi-detached property.

Sarah was taken ill at the YP with pains in her chest (again). She looked awfully pale. At 10 we kicked her off home. She told me that my letter to Delia from Nunwoman, Leaper and Nunwoman Solicitors had Barbara Wheeler wetting herself yesterday.

Met Jacq for lunch at the Ostlers for a few pints and cheeseburgers. The friendly, neolithic bar~tender, who is deaf as a post, always brings the wrong food and drink. Jacq, for instance, had a brandy and Babycham followed by a Gin Fizz ~ and we only ordered lager.

Tonight: with Dad, Dave and Lynn to Lawn Road. I made a start 'emulsioning' the lounge. Worked until 10:30.

John called to see Mama tonight. He moves to Stranraer in two weeks and starts his new job on September 11.

-=-

Friday August 11, 1978

Moon's first quarter 21:06

Something of painful day in the rear. It's going to take fortitude, faith, and tremendous courage to keep battling on over the weekend.

I forgot to mention that in yesterday's Daily Express they published large black and white photographs of Princess Margaret holidaying in Italy with a new geezer, Mario d'Urso. It's Sarah's view that any new men in the life of the princess will now be received with approval at the palace because anybody is an improvement on Roddy Llewellyn. I disagree. Can you imagine a Court Circular from the future listing 'Princess Margaret, the Mrs Ronald Biggs' for instance?

Carole phoned this afternoon to enquire after the state of my bum. She was her usual warm self and we chatted for ten minutes. She and Fogarty are going to Es Canar in Ibiza in September. My God, who'd have thought she'd be doing this after last October's nightmare? I haven't seen Carole since June when Jacq, Sarah, John Mac and I went to Harrogate.

By this afternoon it came to pass that I have caught a dreadful cold. I broke the world sneezing record while stood on top of a pair of ladders filing pictures. However, I'm not going to let it deter me enjoying myself this evening.

David L and Jacq collected me ~ he'd picked her up at the Station Hotel ~ and we went to the Black Bull, my first visit to Otley since Christmas. From here we went to see Lynn and David and Lawn Road. Dave L was very impressed by the decor. It will be so good when it's all finished. Lynn looked very tired.

David L wanted his seafood and so we dashed to the Menston Arms in search of the 'Prawn Man', but were out of luck. Our last hope was at the Commercial where Annie (Lindley) supplied us with jars of mussels. She enquired after Mum & Dad, who never go out these days.

Jacq and I told Dave that we will definitely go to see him at the Barn Motel, Hockley Heath, Warwickshire. Jacq suggests we combine this with a visit to Derek & Carol Sate. Derek may be taking the boat out. __________.

Back at home Mum almost bit my head off for some reason and stormed off to bed. I watched the end of 'Tale of Two Cities' starring Ronald Colman. Very old and sad.

-=-

Wednesday May 24, 1978

Princess Margaret and the 1st Earl of Snowdon were divorced ~ on this the 159th birthday of Queen Victoria. I don't think she'd have been amused at all. Mind you, it is 1978, and when everybody else in the kingdom are tearing up their marriage certificates I suppose it's only right that one or two members of the Royal Family should do likewise. Moving with the times, and all that. It's about the only excuse I can give.

The only other violent eruption I can envisage this year in the Royal House is Prince Michael of Kent's marital intentions with Marie-Christine Troubridge.

Politics: a recent opinion poll suggests Margaret Hilda Thatcher might not become prime minister at the next general election. It is infuriating to see the present enfeebled prime minister growing to look more like Sir Winston Churchill and all the more how one expects a Conservative leader to look while at the same time the 'true blue' leader is a peroxide blonde housewife smothered in Max Factor ~ going through the change ~ &c. It really is intolerable. The political analysts are now saying we won't be going to the polls until next Spring and the thought of a jubilant James Callaghan and Denis Healey rolling, frolicking, and skipping midst the crocuses at Westminster just doesn't bear thinking about. Another Labour government would take us to 1984, George Orwell and all that.

Home news: Just watched tv this evening. Mama is back to normal I think. Her moods can put a tremendous dampener on things.

Lynn came home with a new hairstyle ~ a perm. She's such a pretty girl ~ one of the finest maidens in the parish.

Edith and Ernest are going to Devon tomorrow to view a house near Kenneth's that's for sale. Mum says it's a bad idea that they go south. She hasn't told them of course. I agree when she says that moving at that age can do more harm than good. Ernest has many friends up here and to old people that can be the difference between an active, youthful mind, and a geriatric cabbage.

-=-

Tuesday May 23, 1978

Phoned Christine this afternoon and laughed about the usual things.

The so-called bus strike ended. It is estimated that it will cost ratepayers £1,000,000. I got an infernal omnibus to Guiseley for the first time in many weeks.

This evening I phoned Dave G to say the bill from Global Travel is finally in my hands. The holiday this year will cost us £176 (approx) each, and to think that in 1971 I went to Interlaken, Switzerland for a mere £40.

Dave was fine. He's looking forward with almost an insane passion to the San Antonio jaunt ~ in about seven weeks time.

Mother is still in one of her 'let's all moan at Michael' moods which doesn't do much for my patience or temper. It is equally infuriating to see Lawrence Rhodes, PC 1656, sitting through the barrage of abusive, slanderous drivel as though he is stone deaf.

I think you now have a clear picture that life isn't all roses and pea wine here at Pine Tops. However, I suppose things could be much, much worse. __________.

Whilst Her Majesty the Queen is in Bonn, over in London Princess Margaret and Lord Snowdon are about to be divorced. The petition is due to be heard tomorrow and the £16 'quickie' will set a precedent in the Royal House of Windsor that will not please many people. If I were a bishop I can tell you that I'd be bombarding The Times with lengthy epistles on the sanctity of family life.

-=-

Thursday May 11, 1978

Princess Margaret is suffering from hepatitis coupled with gastroentiritis and is back at Kensington Palace after a week in hospital. She is undoubtedly wrecked.

To the dentist. Hough accidentally impaled my tongue on his needle whilst injecting me for the two fillings I required. The stench of rotting and burning dentine as he drilled down towards my gums was nauseating. I think I gave his new receptionist a nervous breakdown. Men are allowed to scream. A most revolting experience.

Tonight: Mama gave her usual Thursday 'at home' for the Nasons and Blackwells. Ern went out his way to annoy Mum. Motherdear drank NO alcohol and consumed only 2 glasses of water. Only I was privy to this fact. Everybody else thought she was on the hard stuff.

-=-

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.

-=-

Wednesday May 3, 1978

You won't believe this but today we actually experienced sunshine. At one point during the afternoon I was to be seen winding my way on foot from Rawdon to my home ~ without the benefit of waterproof garments of any kind and with only a thin woollen pullover to protect me from the elements. It was indeed a Spring day.

On the BBC 6 o'clock news Kenneth Kendall told us that Princess Margaret is in hospital with gastroentiritis, but no further information is forthcoming. Mum, suspicious as ever, asks me if I know exactly what is really wrong with Princess Margaret. She never believes anything she reads in the Press. She even suggests that Mr Llewellyn's exile to Morocco has caused HRH to make an attempt on her own life! This is unlikely. Princess Margaret and the Earl of Snowdon 'celebrate' 18 years of marriage on Saturday. I do feel sorry for her and the hellish two or three years she's experienced and my advice to the royal lady is get off to North Africa and legalise things with Roddy and tell this feeble country of ours to stuff their £50,000 per annum. Frankly, we don't deserve you, Margaret.

This evening I cut all the lawns (with a lawn mower of course) and then watched the tv until it exploded. My volume of Pepys was upstairs and I was so lazy I couldn't be bothered to go upstairs and bring it down.

Lynn came in at about 9. She's ill again. The poor girl is forever plagued with sickness, tummy aches, constipation, &c, and the doctor seems unable to do anything about it. It worries Mum a good deal. I told Lynn to eat prunes but nobody ever listens to my advice. A great deal of profitable, useful and highly informed information of mine is currently floating around in the atmosphere. Given time I do suppose that some alien power will pick up my signals and make radio contact.

Retire to Pepys, bed and sanity at 12:35am.

-=-

Monday April 10, 1978

SNOW! Yes, bad weather maybe, but it didn't wipe the smile off my face, and do you want to know for why? Well, it's very simple. _____________. However, this pearly, sexually arousing grin of mine died on my poor lips when, at the YP, I managed to phone the Yorkshire Bank. They, the filthy bankers, have refused to give me a loan, and no reason is to be given. No doubt it's Barclaycard who have tipped them off about my eccentric monthly payment history. It seems I am to be forever branded a debtor. Indeed, the very mention of my name in financial circles immediately wipes billions of shares off the Stock Exchange. I'm not going to let it worry me, anyway.



The reception I had at home was nothing short of violent. Mummy gave me the usual lecture. At one time she likened me to ______. Tempers were frayed beyond all comfort. Mummy took on the character of several ogres all rolled into one. Adolf Hitler and Mussolini together would have quaked and dissolved in a mess of urine on the floor had they had to endure Mama's tongue lashing. Oh, it was foul. And all because I have been refused a bank loan!

I have, in retrospect, decided that Mum's Wilson pride must have taken a severe kicking by this latest embarrassment. The Rhodes family care little about whether bank managers bestow money on them or not, but to upset a Wilson so is like smashing an eighteen ton weight on a sensitive area of a male's anatomy. Have I made myself quite clear?

The Princess Margaret nonsense has quietened down slightly. The whole brouhaha has been monstrous.

-=-

Wednesday April 5, 1978

Lynn gave me 'Worth' aftershave (for my birthday) and Sue and Pete a £5 note. From John and Maria I had a 1300 page paper back 'Adolf Hitler' by John Toland. Little JPH could only just carry it through the door - bless him.



Yes, I'm 23 today. Cards from Sarah, Eileen and dear Jacq, who presented me with one plus the Doobie Brothers LP at the Central this lunchtime.

We met at 1pm and knocked back Pernod and a few lagers. Peter Lazenby was eyeing Jacq up and down and back at the office he told me I was doomed to marriage. Surely, I'm much too young to enter into that Holy estate? Too bloody young by about 40 years? However, I suppose it will happen one day whether I like it or not.

This evening I played the Doobie Brothers LP very loudly and generally annoyed everyone at home.John, Maria and JPH came followed by Edith and Ernest shortly afterwards. Much alcohol was supped and JPH did his party pieces. A heated debate on Princess Margaret's £50,000 per annum took place and I was out-voted by the misguided majority.



Mum said HRH is nothing short of being a 'prostitute' and Ern hilariously said that had Princess Margaret been in the army she'd have been shot for deserting her post. If this is so then the army is slipping because the princess is a colonel-in-chief several times over. Poor Margaret.

-=-

Friday March 31, 1978

Moon's last quarter 16:11......... I am not feeling too well at all. It's me throat, ears and kneck (Does neck have a 'k'. No) Anyway it's burning away like hell and palpitating cheerfully. So typical. I'm entertaining Dave of Stockport and others at the weekend. I came home at 12 to prepare for my venture to the bank and espied Ernest scurrying round his garden beaming broadly. He told me to get home as quickly as I could because Mum has some interesting news for me. Has Roddy Llewellyn proposed to Princess Margaret? Is Daddy going to stand for Parliament at the next general election? No, but it is in fact quite thrilling news. Mum and Dad are going to buy Edith and Ernest's house, 54, Hawksworth Lane, for a mere £19,000. The property is detached and has four bedrooms. Mum and Dad are convinced that Pine Tops could sell for £19,750, or even more. No 54 does require renovations, but it really is remarkable. I won't be sad at leaving Pine Tops. Eight years under one roof is quite long enough. Dave G came at about 4pm. He laughed at the idea of us moving 2 doors down the road. It was good to see him and it's so nice that he is hitting it off with the family. Susan especially delights in his company, as she does with most males. Tonight we went to the Shoulder of Mutton where Dave was introduced to Gus, his 1978 holiday companion. Johnny, Nigel Wooller, but no Chippy were with us. From the Shoulder we ventured to the Dog and Gun at Apperley Bridge, which was packed, and then to the Queen's across the road. Peter N told me he could go to university in September and do a 2 year engineering degree. I was surprised. There's more to Pete than his exquisite taste in women. However, I can't see him furthering his education, due to the fact that his exquisite taste no doubt wishes to marry him and have masses of children. -=-

Thursday March 23, 1978

Maundy Thursday.

Mama and Papa had a Maundy Thursday wine party for the Nasons and Edith & Ernest. I was subdued for some reason. Mama pointed this out to me. I cannot be forever hurtling around like a circus act but today I do feel uncommunicative, quick tempered and morose. Sorry. The wine flowed nicely but I stuck to ale for a change. I did not want a crashing hangover for tomorrow's expedition up the Wharfedale valley. David L phoned to see what I was up to and he said he was going to call in tomorrow with a rabbit for Mama as an Easter gift. An Easter Bunny as it were. He was very cheerful & it was great to hear him.

Princess Margaret: 'parasite'.

I heard from Christine today and she was sad at the thought of my absence over the festive season. I told her I would phone tomorrow with my holiday itinerary. If it hails and pisses down tomorrow one place where I will not be closeted over Easter is in a tent, waterproof or otherwise.

Mr Prefab Mobile-Home, MP, today referred to Princess Margaret as a 'parasite' in the House of Commons. The acting Speaker asked him to withdraw the insult and the offensive communist swine did so. These terrible men really should be suspended from sittings following disgraceful episodes of this kind. The poor princess cannot even answer her critics and must go on, undaunted, with her public duties with the brilliance and expertise for which she is renowned throughout the entire civilized world.

-=-

Wednesday March 22, 1978

I am sick and tired of the media's cruel, extremely rude and misinformed treatment of Princess Margaret. Two years ago it started in the 'Sunday People' and now the drivel is being expounded by the BBC. Tonight was no exception. I sat and seethed in my chair. Her private affairs are being debated in the Commons tomorrow at the instigation of that lefty, Commie bastard with the silly name like a mobile home or 'prefab', Mr Canavan. It is a pity that in times of ruination and national collapse we have taken to trying to destroy just about the only positive product left ~ the monarchy. However, they've been insulted before and have lived to tell the tale with the exception of King Charles I. So I'll just keep my fingers crossed.

To come back down to earth: it was pay day because of Easter looming up. Isn't it funny that the crucifixion and resurrection of Jesus Christ should determine on which day I collect my £30?

A letter from David L reminding me of his return home at the weekend. Oh, no. I'm off camping and so I won't see the lad until next week sometime. I shall have to phone him and make amends.I feel terrible about the way I shunned poor David for most of last year _________________.

-=-

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.

-=-

Sunday February 26, 1978

3rd Sunday in Lent.

Edith and Ernest are going to live near their son, Kenneth in Devon. Isn't this awful? My best adoptive grandparents are deserting me for clotted cream, and all that. Mum immediately blanks out the sad details but says: "wouldn't it be nice to buy number 54?" I agree. The Blackwells live in a detached house which must be worth £22,000 and within months (after considerable alteration) could be worth as much as £30,000. Dad, as usual, is pessimistic and sceptical.

Margaret: 'ugly'

Ernest, looking at our Sunday Mirror, says Princess Margaret is 'ugly' and 'looks 60'. Never! Just because the dear thing's gone off to Mustique again (yesterday) with Mr Llewellyn Ernest is following the establishment tradition of 'blackening' her name. She is, and no doubt always will be, a very attractive woman, and her sexual appetite, whether it is for Welsh pop singing gentry or not, should be of no concern to peasants such as us. As long as HRH continues to dish out the honorary degrees, snip the ribbons, and make the speeches then she is fulfilling her intended role.

I did nothing all day but eat and roll around in the lounge. At 9 I went with Mum and Dad to Edith & Ernest's where we watched 'Anne of a Thousand Days' ~ a story very roughly based on Anne's Boleyn's brief association with King Henry VIII. Richard Burton made a very unimpressive monarch.

-=-

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.

-=-