Tuesday January 25, 1977

You'll all be thrilled to know it's getting near 'Silver Jubilee' time. Yes, just two weeks and Her Majesty will have reigned for a quarter of a century. A new book 'Majesty' by Robert Lacey is on the market soon to commemorate this wondrous occasion. The book should be an eye opener too because it contains details of Princess Margaret psychiatric treatment and the Duke of Edinburgh's sleeping arrangements. Oh, I can't be bothered today_____________.

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Wednesday November 17, 1976

No real desire to get out of bed today. Reading the Daily Mail over breakfast I see that the renovations of Sandringham House are complete. Also see that Her Majesty is in need of more staff. Should I apply to join the Royal Household? More exciting than the Yorkshire Post library I am sure. I've a good mind to drop Sir Martin Charteris a line.

Lord Irwin and Mrs Camilla Parker Bowles

Work wasn't up to much at all really. Bogged down and don't get chance to ring Lynne. She didn't ring me either. Why should I worry?

News: The chairman of the Central Electricity Generating Board will not be asked to stay on when his term off office ends in June; Lord Irwin married Camilla Parker-Bowles today; Anthony Ronald Brotherwood Esq is paying a visit on his friend Stuart Walker Esq at his abode above WH Smith's in Ilkey, and later they're going out for liquid refreshment.

Not much is it really? What can you expect from a revoltingly bored 'middle-class' lay-about? Oh, I'm pissed off! Don't think I'm kidding about flitting to Sandringham either. This could be the start of the great big invisible career I've been searching for. Sir Michael Lawrence Rhodes, GCB, KCVO, &c, Private Secretary to Her Majesty the Queen C/O Buckingham Palace, London SW1.

On the subject of shooting up the social scale, have you heard the one about Uncle Tony? Yes, Mr Gadsby is standing for the council [Liberal].

Read 'Edward VIII' by Lady Donaldson all night. I never fail to be angered and very moved by the Abdication Crisis. The king really should have married Wallis Simpson. Whether she should have been Queen or not is another matter.

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Monday November 8, 1976

Boring, miserable day. I am pleased to be able to say that the government may have to go. The pound is now worth two pesetas and even as I write, it is falling to one and a half. It seems to me that each time our beloved Chancellor of the Exchequer farts the whole economy quivers and slides a little more into the abyss of Hell and Damnation. Margaret Thatcher must be out of her mind wanting to take on this country in its present condition. The Queen, very wisely, has escaped from this ruined nation to Luxembourg. I could quite understand Her Majesty if she decided not to bother coming back. She cannot be all that proud being sovereign of such a third rate nation. Our bloody economy is about equal to that of Namibia.

Lynne comes up at 8 with my wallet and pair of shoes. She only stays minutes because Lil will have her tea on the table.

Read 'Edward VIII' by Lady [Frances] Donaldson. As you are no doubt well aware by now he [the king] is one of my favourite historical characters. I cannot understand the guy at all. Is this why I am forever reading about him?

PS - don't think I'm looking for sympathy but I have a ghastly hangover all day. The wine, you know.

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Monday October 25, 1976

Work at 9.30. Sarah isn't too well. Bugger about and manage to finish for 2.30 or so. Home by 5.15. Have a bath and then Lynne comes up at 8 o'clock with my luggage. Put on my new trousers, red shirt and cardigan. Just the two of us to the Hare & Hounds at 8.30 for an hour. She goes home afterwards [to Gipton Wood Crescent that is] because Aunt Lil has her evening meal ready. Quite a good night at the Hare. We are becoming more and more close I think. [We are] staying over here this coming weekend. She's coming on Friday and going straight to Thornton-le-Dale after we've been out. The weekend after I'm going to Thornton-le-D with her on Friday [Nov] 5, and coming back on Sunday [Nov] 7, to go to Auntie Delia's luncheon.

See the Queen on TV at 11 o'clock tonight officially opening the National Theatre, on the South Bank. [The South Bank of what? Not of the Ouse, I think]. A modern, updated version of the National Anthem was played at the opening and, in my opinion, I think that perhaps the composer should be hanged with piano wire. Nauseating it really was. Bed at midnight.

Oh, by the way. Auntie Mabel, Marlene and Frank, Mark & Debbie came at 6.30 for an hour. Sorry, I forgot to mention it earlier.

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Thursday September 23, 1976

A great drunken piss-up with Tony, Stuart and Andrew [Stuart's brother]. Neville's in Ilkley is a revolting, obnoxious hole. Snobbish is too mild a word to use in labelling it. Enjoy ourselves all the same. Up to Oakwood Hall where I consume vast quantities of alcoholic refreshment and become enamoured by a Bingley College of Education tart by the name of 'Skittles' or 'Peggy'. I'm getting just like King Edward VII. Lynne is my beautiful Alexandra though.

Back to Stuart and Andrew's at 2am where we discuss plans for the Queen's Silver Jubilee party. Andrew goes on and on about masturbation. "Am I back at school?" I ask myself. Oh dear. Tony & Stuart are having a party on October 16 to commemorate Tony's defection to W.H.Smith's retail section. Eat cornflakes and Rice Krispies before leaving for home - singing hymns all the way like religious fanatics. It's better than church anyway. What's the name of the Archbishop of Canterbury these days? The current one has a nice wife called Jean.

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Tuesday July 27, 1976

Go away...... alright if you insist ......

Saturday July 17, 1976

Go into Guiseley with Mum & Dad and get a pair of rubber soles for my new shoes. On Otley Road I meet Susan Kirk - my second cousin - with her baby brother Stuart, who is almost 3. He breaks down crying when he sees me & appears to be frightened to death. Mum & Dad laugh with Raymond - who doesn't resemble Dad in any way whatsoever.

(Family tree showing the descent of Susan Kirk & myself from Polly Upton).

See the opening of the Olympic Games in Montreal. The Queen, all in pink, seemed somewhat severe. I bet she was thinking someone was about to take a pot shot at her. These French Canadians cannot be trusted.

Considering ringing Lynne at 8.30 but Chris rings to say I'm too late because she's buggered off with her friend Jean for the evening. Chris comes up at 9.30 and we go to the Hare. John comes in on his own because Maria is feeling off colour, & Jimmy Macdonald and Peter comes too. Move on to the Rose & Crown (Ilkley) and then to a really rough dive, where I meet Barbara Woodhead. She asks me what became of Carole. When I described the events of May 4 she didn't register any surprise and says: "Oh they're all like that in that family". I feel a fool because I never realised they were so unstable until it was too late. Back to Harry Ramsden's where I have fish and chips - twice. Home at midnight feeling angry about Lynne. She shouldn't have pissed off without lettng me know.

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Tuesday June 22, 1976

A warm, pleasant day - not that I see all that much of it locked away in the Yorkshire Post offices. However, a smile plays upon my lips when I think where I'll be this time next week.

Get home at 5.15 and devour a long awaited, much needed meal. See the 6 o'clock news on the BBC: the Queen greeting President Giscard d'Estaing at Victoria. Keeping up with the old 'Entente Cordiale' and all that. It's intriguing to know that the president can speak fluent English and we all know that the Queen can speak fluent French, and so in which language did they chat? The president and his wife both descend from Louis XV King of France. If I'm not mistaken, I think the Queen descends from Louis XV's grandfather, who was father of Henrietta Maria, wife of King Charles I. (I shall look into this more closely).

After tea I venture onto the lawn where I am sitting at this very moment compiling this diary. A warm, typical June day - even at 7pm. Heard from Tony today. He's busy all week and doesn't think he can make it until Friday. I won't have any cash before Thursday anyway.

John comes round at 7 o'clock and we drive down to Silverdale and look at his house through the windows as he isn't in possession of the keys yet and besides, it's too late to collect them from the site manager. Things seem to be coming along nicely but he's in no great hurry to move in.

Give Lynne a ring at 9.15 and Mrs Mather enquires: "Oh, is that Stephen?" It is so embarrassing when that happens. The silence lasted for about 20 seconds and then I asked to speak to Peter, but she says he's at Chris's. Lynne was out, of course, with Janet in Harrogate.

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Saturday June 12, 1976

A day upon which I should truly be ashamed of myself. It's the official birthday of Her Majesty the Queen and subsequently Trooping the Colour in London and I am not there to lend my support. In 1972, 73, 74 and 75 I have always made a point of attending, and indeed it became something of a ritual, but what with the up and coming holiday, lack of funds and lack of a suitable escort, I decided to give it a miss this year. I climbed out of bed at 10.15 to view the spectacle on television. The weather in London looks perfect and I sit long-faced staring at the TV regretting my decision to stay at home. Please do not take this break in tradition as a decline in my loyalty to the Throne. My feelings on this subject have changed in no way and I need elaborate no more on them, because you, dear reader, are very well aware of my royalist leanings.

Lynn and I go into Otley this afternoon and give the shops a good going over. At 5.30 I attempt to take her for a drink at the Black Bull but to our horror discover the pub isn't open! Home on the bus cursing the English licensing laws.

Peter M and I go out for a drink this evening. Start in the tap room of the Menston Arms, then the Malt Shovel and get to the Hare & Hounds for 10 o'clock. John and Maria are there having a drink and we have a good chat. Chris comes shortly afterwards and the three of us go to Oakwood Hall where Carole and Denise can be seen. At one stage it became so hot inside that we piled out at the back and onto the lawns. Carole had minor hysterics at one point but I ignored them. I do not like being cooped up with her is discos & don't intend being so gullable in future.

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Wednesday April 21, 1976

The Queen, 50. Do not hear the alarm clock again and Mum wakes me at 8.20. To Leeds with Jim Rawnsley and study the national newspapers immediately upon my arrival at the YP. The Queen's party at Windsor went on until 3am today - and at 2.40am Her Majesty's time of birth - she was dancing around the Waterloo Chamber with the Duke of Edinburgh.

Some papers criticised Mr Callaghan for not attending and I can only see this as a snub to the Queen. Uncle Harold Wilson and Thatcher attended and even Edward Heath. She is already a legend in her own lifetime and it's hard to imagine how we could ever manage without her.

Meet Carole at 8.10 but only have one drink in the Hare before returning to our place for a coffee. She is behaving quite differently today bit I pretend I haven't noticed. She is doing her utmost not to be 'lovey dovey' and too serious with me.

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Tuesday April 20, 1976

Back to work which is busy and frantic. See in the papers that Princess Margaret and Lord Snowdon are to attend the Queen's 50th birthday party at Windsor this evening.

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Monday March 22, 1976

It is rumoured that Uncle Harold (Wilson) will receive the Garter when he steps down from the premiership in two weeks time. The 'customary' earldom will not be accepted by the dear old thing because he's intending to carry on as an MP on the back benches.

I place customary in inverted commas because the Press always assumes that the Queen always offers an earldom to an outgoing Prime Minister at their final weekly tete a tete. This is not so. Church declined a dukedom but took the Garter, whilst Eden took the Garter plus the earldom. Macmillan refused all honours in 1963, and Home did 10 years in the Commons after his stint in No. 10. The old boy did return to the Lords as a cheap life peer a couple of years ago. Heath, I feel sure, won't have been offered anything because his relationship with Our Gracious Sovereign Lady was not a happy one - again, that is if the Press is to be believed. What is more, the circumstances of Heath's departure from that high office cannot have pleased Her Majesty.

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Sunday March 21, 1976

3rd in Lent. The clocks were altered again early this morning and so we all lost an hour in bed and I emerged at about 11.30, I think. Throwing back the curtains I received a shock indeed. Snow is coming down by the bucket full and a massive white mass is the only thing to confront ones eye-balls. Yes, it is the first day of Spring.

Dave, Pete and John all exchanged cars this morning. John sold his spitfire to David and David sold his 'Baker Mobile' to Peter - who has yet to take driving lessons, but hopes to start shortly. I feel so sorry for John, who is now carless.

After piles of porridge and greasy bacon and fried sausage I look at the Sunday papers. The Queen and Princess Margaret had a meeting at Royal Lodge yesterday to discuss the separation. Who'd have believed it? And who is willing to bet that within the next three or four years we will be reading of 'The Princess Margaret, Mrs Roderic Llewellyn' in the Court Circular? But to be serious, the whole thing is a great tragedy especially for the poor Queen who has dedicated her whole life to building the House of Windsor into a secure dynasty only to have her 25 years on the throne marred by her sisters marital problems.

All afternoon and until 11 o'clock tonight Carole and I sort out Mum's photo collection and re-bind the lot. Exhausted ans short tempered by the end of it.

David takes Carole home in the spitfire. I come to bed and mess around looking for something to read. The library days seem so long ago.

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Friday February 6, 1976

Twenty-four years ago today Princess Elizabeth learned in Kenya that she had become Queen of the United Kingdom & Head of the Commonwealth, &c.

A night at home in what seems like the first time in many, many years. John took me down to the bus stop at 8.30 and I waited for a few minutes for Carole, who comes on the bus. We walked up the lane together and sat watching television with Mum, Dad, Sue and Peter. Some bright spark suggested going to the off-license for a few bottles and for fish and chips. The venture cost me and Mum £3 between us, and I decide it would have been cheaper to go get drunk in the Hare & Hounds.

I attempted to review my financial situation tonight and decide that £10 a week hidden away will give me my annual holiday without much trouble.

I rang Denny about John and Chris cancelling, and she says they have definately lost their deposits but I insist that Peter and I still want to go. Admittedly, the wedding and other events will make this year quite expensive, but I don't see why I should have to call off my holiday.

Lynn and Dave get back from the Hare & Hounds at about 10.30 and we all watch a Marx Brothers film which is hilarious. Groucho is still fantastically funny, whereas the rest of the gang are dated and quite humourless now.

Carole is taken home by Dave at 1am or 2am.

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Thursday December 25, 1975

Good old Christmas Day. Up at about 10 and feel a bit lost because I have no presents to open.

We all have a happy time and consume a few drinks of sherry before lunch which is the highlight of the day. Turkey, marvellous, and so too was the pudding. Mum should be canonised for her services to cookery.

The Queen gave her Christmas address from the garden of Buckingham Palace and the theme was for each and every one of us to band together and destroy terrorism and anarchy. She seemed a little frosty.

Lynn and Dave exchanged presents at about 4 o'clock and he tells a horrified Lynn that both his mother and her have bought him watches. Lynn is upset, but Dave says having two watches is no problem. One on each wrist perhaps?

We go to Carole's at 5 o'clock and Mum and Dad meet Mr & Mrs P for the first time. I stay watching tv until midnight and Mr P brings me home. The others had all left by 8.30 and I just about passed out from the terrible heat of the Oakridge Ave central heating. Home after 12.


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Monday December 22, 1975

Work 8.30 - 4.30. Goodbye everyone.

God Save The Queen.


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Thursday December 11, 1975

Uneventful day. Do not see Carole and stay at home in front of the tv all night. Laugh with Dad at this London hostage business. If they are still being held at Christmas I can see Sir Robert Mark, the Metropoltian Police Commissioner, dressed as Santa Claus, lowering a sack full of presents down the chimney of the Balcombe Street flat!

See 'Top of the Pops' and a programme about Prince Charles being invested as a companion Water Rat. Mike Yarwood, Ronnie Corbett and all the usual bunch were taking the mickey, but HRH came over marvellously as usual. The whole nation now regards as some sort of 'Boy Wonder' and the papers are full of 'when he is King he will do this' and 'when he is King he will do that...' &c. The Sunday Trash said last week that the dear Queen will abdicate in ten years time. I cannot believe that she'd do such a thing. She is strong enough to go on for 25 years yet and I'm certain that she'll be Queen until the day she dies - communist revolutions and uprisings set aside. It is an ancient tradition, I fear, for the media to idolise the heir and cast the dear old monarch into the shadows.

See Spike Milligan at 9 o'clock on BBC2. He is a genius beyond his years. No one seems to appreciate his talents and I fear his genius won't be fully recognised until after he's gone.

Climb into the bath at 9.30 and go to bed shortly afterwards.

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Sunday November 16, 1975

25th after Trinity. A cold, bleak day. I normally go to Maria's when Carole is in residence therein, but because of the dog I decide to scrap this tradition once and for all.

I woke up at 9.30. My throat feeling terrible. I gargle with salt and water and then inhale salt water up my nose - a painful experience. At 10 I go for a short walk around Greenfield Avenue in the drizzle which helps my head clear slightly. Back home I glance at the Sunday papers and drink tea.

This Franco business drags on and on. Spain is now wondering whether to unplug his kidney, brain and heart machines. He could go on for years in the present state and it's not doing the Spanish government much good.

Mum and Dad went off for the afternoon at 12, and John did his usual disappearing act in the direction of Maria's. Sue and I made lunch and Carole came round at 2.30 for hers. Sue and Lynn say they like her hair, and I think she is now coming round to liking it herself. Dave brings a pile of 'Paddington Bear' books round for Carole to look at. They're written for 10 year-olds, but Carole is just getting into them.
We sit watching television all afternoon with Sue & Peter and then move onto the radio at 6pm to listen to the top 20.

Mum and Dad come back at 7pm. I thought they'd be out all evening, but they want to watch the Royal Variety Performance. Carole and I want to watch it too, and so the two of us venture to her place in order that she can tell the Dowager Mrs Phillips that she's staying at Maria's another night. I do not like her father one bit. He's almost maniacal the way he carries on. He told his only daughter that her new hair style made her 'look like an inmate of Menston Hospital' and went on to say, over swigs of tea, that she'd lost her femininity. Most cruel of him, I thought, and we are glad to get away from her place. She was upset by the things Mr Phillips had said.

We had one drink in the Hare and then came home. Dave and Lynn had bought a supply of apricot wine in and all the family (other than John & Maria of course) sat down to watch the Royal Variety Performance. A bloody awful show it was too. The only good bits were the beginning and the end when we had a view of the Queen. She looked bored to death, but very attractive in an orange evening dress. Just how she puts up with it year after year I do not know. She really should award herself the Victoria Cross for sitting through that painful pantomime year in, year out.

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Thursday November 13, 1975

A cold, crisp, typical autumn morn. To Leeds with Jim. I don't know what I'll do when the day dawns when I find myself Jim Rawnsleyless. The man has been like a chauffeur to me for the best part of three years, and the thought of actually driving myself to work or catching a revolting bus is too bad a thing to even be considered. They don't make good servants like him anymore, you know. They are a dying breed and the world will be a less happier place when they are no more.

Finish at 12. Christine B rings. She's working in Leeds until the end of the month and says we'll have to meet one lunchtime for a pub crawl. I let out a burst of hideous, nervous laughter when she says she and Philip are meeting this lunchtime for summit talks. It will be a year since she finished with him on Boxing Day, but if Elizabeth Taylor can tie the knot once more with Richard Burton I fail to see why they cannot. CD said something was afoot, and I now know what she meant. CB also came out with some unkind remarks about her latest attachment. From what I saw of him last night he did not seem all that formidable, and if anything he struck me as being a cheerful, decent chap. She is seeing him for the last time on Saturday, but I can't help thinking she's making a mistake.

I go into the town centre and drift about wondering what to buy for Carole's 18th birthday next week. I espy a locket in a jewellers window and immediately purchase it. John's given me the money to get her 'Atlantic Crossing' the Rod Stewart LP and I have no trouble getting that either.

Home in the bright sun at 2.15. See in the papers that poor Princess Anne is laid up at Oak Grove with influenza. Tomorrow will be her second wedding anniversary and still we wait anxiously for signs that the marriage has been consumated. It's all very well for Mark Phillips to persue his career in the army, but his first duty must be to secure the throne and give the Queen her first grandchild so to take her mind off the Australian constitutional crisis.

I have no lunch and sit doing absolutely nothing at all. (Well,if you must know I've spent nearly two and a half hours filling in this diary properly).

Carole rings at 4.15 and guesses that I've bought her a locket straight away but when I say "Ah, but what sort of locket?" She replies immediately "a silver one". Dead right, she is, and I'll have to buy something else now for a surprise.

We meet at 8.30 and go to the Hare with John. Maria is at her piano teachers place playing, and so he's quite free and unattached tonight. We buy each other pernod and oranges and have a few lagers too. By 10.30 we are a bit popped up.

Haircut day for Carole on Saturday and she's worried sick by it. I tell her not to be daft. Vidal Sassoon won't make a complete bugger of it.

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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.

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