Friday August 4, 1978

New Moon 02:01

Queen Elizabeth The Queen Mother is 78 today. I do believe that in six years time she will be the longest lived Queen Consort. Queen Mary was 85, and Queen Alexandra was 80. No Queen of these Isles has lived longer.

Tonight Dave L came up at 8:30 and we went to meet Jacq at the Y.W.C.A and then went over the road to the George, opposite the (Leeds General) Infirmary. It was after 9 before we had a drink and so the evening was slipping quickly by. Dave quite liked the George and he noticed that most of the customers looked like hospital staff. He laughed that it 's an ideal spot to have a heart attack or bout of botulism.

(Botulism is something one gets from eating tins of John West salmon. "It's the cans that John West reject that don't kill you" &c. Dave is laying on a salmon sandwich supper at his party and intends displaying the serial number of the can on each sandwich. My God, aren't we a sick bunch?)

I was home at 11:30 and watched a bit of television. I've been grinning to myself all day because Jeremy Thorpe and three others have been arrested on charges of conspiring to murder Norman Scott between 1968 and 1977. That's buggered the Liberal party once and for all. Mr Steel definitely won't be wanting an election in October. The person I feel sorry for is poor Marion.

--

Wednesday October 19, 1977

Mist and rain. A grotty day indeed. Sarah, John McMurray and I went to the library together. Sarah disappeared into the art section, John into music, and I buggered about in the biographical works and in fiction.

John laughed when I told him that the first book I borrowed from a library (aged 11) was 'Queen Mary' by Pope-Hennessy. He told me he knew a guy who lived with Mr Pope-Hennessy, who was of course a leading homosexual. The author was stabbed to death by a fellow flat-mate about three years ago.

Norman Scott.

On the subject of homosexuals the Jeremy Thorpe/Norman Scott Affair is back in the news. It now transpires that a 'prominent' member of the Liberal party payed a young man to shoot Mr Scott. It is for poor Marion Thorpe that I feel great sympathy. From Harewood House to the gutter in ten years. ________________.

Marion Thorpe.

John Grady phoned. He was very excited. He told me that Hylda Baker lives in Bolton. I told him I'd phone Granada TV tomorrow to get some information about her for him. He really is obsessed with dearest Hylda and I cannot help blaming myself. John Grady was once a normal lad without a care in the world.

Saw part III of 'The Norman Conquests' and Lynn and Dave came to talk about churches, flowers and big wedding cars.









-=-

Thursday June 3, 1976

Tony rings to say he's got the tickets for Hylda Baker tomorrow evening. £1.50 a piece. He was coming up tonight to watch Monty Python but he's having car trouble and won't be able to make it now.

Lynn and Susan are out this evening and so it's just me, Mum & Dad watching TV. Feel unusually tired, and by 11 o'clock my eyes are packing in for the night.

King George V is 111 today. No doubt he'll be celebrating quietly somewhere with Queen Mary. It's also the 39th wedding anniversary of the poor old Duchess of Windsor. Saw in the Express last week that she is more or less a recluse now and lives under the surveilance of half a dozen nurses. Poor Old Queen Wallis. Will they let her be buried over here? Nothing else to report.

-==-

Wednesday April 9, 1975

Do forgive me, but I'm not really in the mood for reeling out tons and tons of rubbish herein.

Rang David at about 7.30 and he jumped readily at the idea of going out for a quick slurp at the Hare & Hounds. John, capably at the helm, drove me down to Tennyson Street at 8 where we were kept waiting for David as usual. Gary was watching TV and attacking a large packet of peanuts, and I seemed to be stood for ages.

David and I are dumped in the Hare carpark and John disappears over the horizon in the direction of Naomi, with whom he must be horribly in love because his whole life revolves around her every gesture, movement and word. Chris chauffeurs Andy, Linda and Carol and the six of us sit near the juke box. Helen comes in straight from college - the poor girl was ill for two days following Saturday's vodka swilling contest on the coach going to Pontefract. I warned her anyway. The seven of us moved on to the Queen's on Apperley Lane, where an educational lecture is sparked off by the portrait of Queen Mary over the fireplace. Questions like: 'Was she Queen Victoria's daughter?' and 'isn't that the Queen Mother?', &c, &c were directed at me.

-==-

Tuesday February 25, 1975

Bit of a miserable day really. Do all my work before lunch and do sweet sod all in the afternoon. The whole day dragged by and I was positively thrilled to be able to get away at 4.30.

Nothing spectacular in the news other than the death of Marshal Bulganin, a trumped up Russian war hero.

Home at 5.30 and indulge in a meal of liver, chips and peas. Most enjoyable to say the least. Mum, having been to the bank for me, hands me back my book containing £16.33, and when the £10 in Chris's possession is added to this a sizeable sum is conjured up.
Chris Monckton is now writing in the 'People' section of the YP. Why am I telling you this? Well, I'm just proving what being heir to a title can do, and where it can get you. It's editor here we come for Chris one day. Just you see.

Look in Crockford's Clerical Directory for the Rev A.B. Downing, but he isn't in. Horrid thought immediately spring to mind. Is he a Methodist or Presbyterian minister? Aaarrgghh....John cannot be associated with a daughter of one of those.

Old Princess Alice, Countess of Athlone is 92 today. I've worked it out that on June 15, 1977 she will be the oldest ever living member of the British Royal Family. The one in the lead at the moment is Princess Augusta, a granddaughter of King George III, an aunt of Queen Mary. Come on, Alice! Don't give in! It would be great if she managed it. But at 92 people can be so unpredictable, or is it predictible?
See a good Jack Lemmon film on the BBC.

-==-

Sunday December 22, 1974

4th in Advent. Repulsive weather for the time of year. Brilliant sun shines down upon us, and if somebody was to tell me we are in the middle of August I would take the information without a query. Mr Baker collects Lynn at the early hour of 1pm and rushes her off her feet to the wilds of Otley Chevin. Peter pays court to Susan and then drags her back to his place for tea.

Mummy and Daddy are also restless this afternoon and they disappear too. This mass migration to other spheres leaves John and myself quite alone. See the TV. 'Captain Horatio Hornblower' a Gregory Peck film, then we listen to my Monty Python LP.

After a long bath with the backing of the Sold Gold 60 programme on the radio I ring Marita for a report on the weekend activities of the 'Jet Set'. They too have indulged in quiet activities this weekend, and she's near to hysterics when I tell her of yesterdays antics with the two Davids in Bradford. She loved the bit about the old lady in British Home Stores complaining to the staff about us handling the frilly knickers.

John and I see the play 'Crown Matrimonial', starring Greer Garson as Queen Mary, matriarch of the Royal House of Windsor, a bold and dedicated woman whom the present Queen closely resembles. The play was brilliant and the portrayal of all the characters was perfect.

-==-

Thursday July 25, 1974

Nice day at the YP. Ring Denny at about 7. John goes out with his lady friend and I stay in by the electric fire, admiring my Pope-Hennessy biography of Queen Mary. Uncle ___ and Lady Halifax come. Haven't seen them since Grandad's funeral in September. Pair of miserable sods, and I escape from them to my bedroom, where I contemplate getting into the bath and think about all sorts of things in general. Sit with Lynn, Sue and Peter in the dining room in order to escape the attention of my relations, who leave shortly after 10. Sue and Peter seem a very serious couple and I can almost hear the wedding bells in the distance.

-==-

Thursday June 28, 1973

Sleep until nearly 12 o'clock. Mother still ill with the infernal cold. Sue also has it now, and I feel slightly nasal.

Go to school in the afternoon. Mr Ayling has been pulling Dave through to bits over his attitude to the 'A' level. The trouble with Ayling is that he puts economics above all other things in life. Oh, he's such a pompous snob!

Walk to the bus stop with Dave and Christine - who almost wets herself laughing. Home by 4.50.

Read the memoirs of Mabell, Countess of Airlie, granny of the Hon Angus Ogilvy, which I collected from Rawdon library this afternoon.. It throws a very interesting light on the aura of austerity surrounding the court of George V and Queen Mary. And in fact Queen Mary was not the prim figure she is often portrayed as by biographers. Also have a book about Princess Beatrice, Queen Victoria's youngest child - haven't touched that one yet.

Come to bed and read until midnight. Poor June is being dragged off to Appletreewick with Christine and John until Sunday night. We will not see each other until Monday night. I'll write her a letter tomorrow.

--==--