Monday November 6, 1978

Miserable day at the YP. Sarah not in a happy mood. I sat admiring a new batch of photographs of Princess Michael of Kent. A classic beauty, stylish, &c. Sarah came out with a tirade of abuse directed at the images of HRH and said she looks 'plain'. Plain?

Delia phoned wanting to know Princess Marina's date of death. I told her (August, 1968). She didn't ask to speak to her daughter, which was just as well.

On the home front all is calm. Susan and Mum spent the night knitting with gusto. In fact it looked just like the war effort all over again. Peter didn't come up tonight because Margaret & Jim have taken his car and gone to see Lynn and Dave, and Pete always refuses to scale the heights of Hawksworth Lane on foot. (Even Sherpa Tenzing Norgay did it by car).

I had piles of sandwiches heavily coated in Mama's own pickle. Stupendous.

Jacq phoned to say Derek is taking us out to dinner on Saturday night at his golf club and so could I possibly pack something other than jeans. That rubbed me up the wrong way. When do I ever go anywhere taking only jeans?

-=-

Friday December 13, 1974

Princess Marina, Duchess of Kent, born 1906. Friday the Thirteenth. I'm not saying I'm superstitious in any way, but one must always be careful on these days. Undoubtedly, if being terrified of walking under a ladder is classed among superstitious things I'm the world's leading superstitious person - but to my mind, not walking under a ladder is an inbred thing, and besides, one may as well be on the safe side.

Go to the Hare in Kevin Teale's Bedford van. The place is done out for the coming festivities and Sandra L informs me that she's leaving tonight. Horror of horrors. The place won't be the same without a Lawson behind the bar. In one way or another I am with Sandra for the majority of the evening - leaving the others to their own devices. John goes off with his old school pals to Ilkley, on a whoreing expedition. We, that is Keith, Chris, Carol, Andy, Linda, Dave, Lynn, George, Jane, Christine Dibb and dear Christine White - all go to the Commercial. From this little but comfortable abode we move on to Wikis, where I use one of Dave B's spare cards. Don't really enjoy it, but I am pleased when Kevin Teale offers me £25 for my suit. Hell, it only rushed me £25 in May, so if he buys it I will have had seven months wear out of it for no cost at all. Perhaps he was a bit pissed, but I was flattered all the same to think that somebody wanted the clothes I was stood up in.

-==-

Thursday December 5, 1974

Busy day. The bloody telephone didn't cease ringing all day. Nothing of interest to say, but I must say something because it's hardly proper to leave blank pages when ones diary is to consitute a major contribution to the historical, social, and literary knowledge of this, the 20th century. OK, we all agree I'm no Samuel Pepys, or John Evelyn or even 'Chips' Channon, but what do you expect from a comprehensive school educated creature who never set foot in Harrow or had Princess Marina for a godmother?

See TV and Monty Python. Nothing of vital interest. So I'll be saying goodnight to you all. I write this journal as though I'm addressing a party of OAPs at the local Darby & Joan. But it's not my fault.

-==-

Thursday October 17, 1974

See in the EP that Princess Elizabeth of Yugoslavia is having an affair with Richard Burton, the notorious profligate and actor. The princess is a first cousin of the Kents, being a niece of Princess Marina, Duchess of Kent; and thus is a second cousin of the Prince of Wales, Duke of Edinburgh, &c. A remarkable coincidence arises from this romance which the Press doesn't seem to have caught on to. It is that the Burtons are, or where before Liz (Taylor) got her divorce, good friends of President Tito of Yugoslavia. Putting two and two together Tito, in one of his discussions with Burton, could have intimated that on his retirement he was considering restoring the monarchy. Does he intend to place Princess Elizabeth on the throne and make Burton the Prince Consort of Yugoslavia? It is not impossible. The twice-wed princess took Burton to lunch with Princess Alexandra at the weekend.

Don't feel too well today. My throat, chest, nose and other numerous parts are quite poorly and exhausted. Could do with a few days off really. At lunchtime I get more Windsor photos and copies of those taken at John's 18th birthday party - £3.70 they rushed me.

Amused by an article in 'Private Eye' which says that since Princess Anne married her 'stable lad' many people have traced the decline of our country's status from that shameful occasion. It also states, in its infinite wisdom, that since the princess was made a GCVO in August, she is 'Princess Anne, Dame Anne Phillips' and not 'Princess Anne, Mrs Mark Phillips'.

Ring Denny who isn't very informative, and speak to Marita who is visiting her. See 'Top of the Pops' then ring Lynne. Spend half an hour on the phone and poor Mummy was quite desolate at the thought of the coming phone bill. Have bath and see tv all evening. My voice feels like it's on the verge of collapse. Goodnight everyone.

-==-