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.

-=-

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.

-=-

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 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.

-=-

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. -=-

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 September 26, 1977

Work was quite lazy. We made a birthday card for Michael Robertshaw, whose birthday it is today - his 21st. Eileen has been quite a misery since returning from honeymoon and today she smiled once or twice but is still quite off -hand with me. The reason for this I fail to understand but it must have something to do with Christine Byram's party. I have no intention of worrying about it anyway.

A Woody Allen film on the BBC tonight.'Play it Again, Sam'. Thoroughly hilarious. That actor is one of the funniest men alive I'm sure.

Mr Fishmonger's book.

Roddy Llewellyn.

Edith Blackwell has lent us a copy of 'Margaret: Princess without a cause' by Willie Fishsomethingorother. I fully intended purchasing it but after glancing over it I am so glad I haven't wasted the £5.50. It is just like the Helen Cathcart biography with a bit of extra spice gathered from the cheap Sunday newspapers and gossip from the European and American journals. Coincidentally the papers today have stories about Margaret in them. According to one, Roderic Victor Llewellyn (born October 9, 1947, son of Sir Harry Llewellyn, KB, and grandson of Sir David Llewellyn, 1st Baronet) is being groomed as a courtier with the intention of marrying him to Princess Margaret after her divorce next year. From his pedigree it's easy to see he is not the sort of low 'drop out' he's been made out to be. He is at least in Burke's  Peerage. Grandson on the paternal side of a baronet and on the maternal side of the 5th Baron de Saumarez. The young man no longer wears an ear ring and the t-shirt embossed with 'Roddy for PM' on the front has been replaced by pin striped suits and sober ties. It certainly seems he is being prepared for the trappings of royalty.

I retired to bed with Willie Fishmonger's boring, bitty book. I could do a better job and certainly get more of the facts right. Mr Fish 'n Chips in merely a profiteer, a sensationalist, a scoundrel. In fact I'm in two minds whether or not to go on reading it. 'Decline and Fall' by Mr Waugh is far more entertaining and certainly more of a bedtime book. Who knows what nightmares I'd be subjected to if I were to drift off to sleep after reading of the sexual exploits of Princess Margaret, which I am sure are based on nothing more than the idle chatter of ignorant people.

-=-

Wednesday July 14, 1976

Bastile Day: Marlene and Frank call to see us at 7pm or so and I play in the garden with Mark & Debbie. They leave at 8 and for the remainder of the evening the three of us sit glued to the TV watching the 'Horse of the Year Show' or something. A sun-tanned Princess Margaret was in the royal box taking a few drags on a cigarette before presenting the King George V Cup and the Queen Elizabeth II Cup. At first I thought Lord Snowdon was with her but soon realised it was Lord Linley. Roddy Llewellyn was nowhere in sight.

A (post)card in Lynn's handwriting from Cala Milor, Majorca. They're having a great time.

Retire to bed at midnight after compiling a long letter to Lynne. Mum mentioned her again tonight. I think she's taken a great liking to her.

-==-

Monday June 21, 1976

Warm but overcast day. Work was uneventful and not particularly strenuous. Hear that poor Dennis Haywood broke his arm when he fell off the quay at Blackpool yesterday. He seemed to be in great pain throughout the evening session in Skipton and now I understand why. Mick Johnson came in to see Carol J and exaggerated greatly his tale of the whole of yesterday's events. After the big build up with promises of alcoholic poisoning one could almost say it was something of an anti-climax. Enjoyable though.

A quiet evening at home. Watch a film at 9.20 on BBC1 entitled 'The Landlord' which is amusing. Certain aspects of American humour can be hilarious - espeially the female comics.

Retire to bed at 11.30 and read 'Princess Margaret anbd her family' which seems daft in the light of the events of three months ago. One picture in the book shows HRH at a house party in the autumn of 1973 where one of the male members in the group is named as 'Roddy Llewellyn, former Olympic showjumper'. The author is obviously confusing the young lad with his father, Colonel Harry Llewelyn. Apparently, this occasion was the first meeting of the princess and her young beau.

-==-

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.

-==-

Thursday February 26, 1976

It's finally made it to the Press here in Britain about Princess Margaret and her 'courtier' friend Roderick (sic) Llewellyn. The newspapers say this morning that the Queen held a family meeting at Windsor on Sunday to discuss her sister's affair. It is understood that Lord Snowdon wants a divorce. The Queen is reported to be not in favour of divorce, but that she thinks the couple should seperate. The Duke of Edinburgh is reported to favour divorce, but I can't see anything coming of this. The princess has always led a wayward life.

Carole and I go to the Hare & Hounds and sit in the tap room for an hour or so. At about 10 the barmaid says that someone is asking for me in the lounge and we go through to find Mum & Dad having a drink. We join them for half an hour and I then get a lift home. Mum and Carole were chatting about wedding outfits again and I could see Dad looking sheepishly at me through the bottom of his beer glass. He'll be relieved when the wedding is over because anything that creates such excitement just isn't good for him.

-==-

Monday February 23, 1976

To Leeds with Jim Rawnsley and we have to endure the boring procrastinations of Donald Best, Esq, the local magistrate & do-gooder. With him in the car it's always a pleasure to get out after the 25 minute journey.

See in the Sunday People, or News of the World - I can't remember which - that Princess Margaret is holidaying in Mustique with Roddy Llewellyn, who can, I think, now be regarded as her lover. I found the article disturbing, especially because it was illustrated by seductive pictures of HRH on a sun scorched beach with her arms clasped firmly round the 27 year-old waist of Mr Llewellyn, the 'ear-ringed' fair-haired son of Colonel Harry Llewellyn, the showjumper. This romance may well develop into something big and if (Lord) Snowdon doesn't watch out he could find himself without a studio at Kensington Palace and a bed for that matter because the princess does appear to be enraptured with Roddy. Could the nation tolerate the monarch's sister in the divorce courts? Watch this space.

A busy day without Kathleen who never works Mondays, and Carol J who has the 'flu. The painter L.S. Lowry died today, and so too did Angela Baddeley, the actress. Other items in the news include several government resignations over the Chancellor's public expenditure cuts, and it looks as though Harold's second anniversary in No. 10 is going to be a stormy one. Will Margaret Thatcher be Prime Minister? Are we going to see a Tory government this year? Will Rod Stewart marry Britt Ekland? Oh, the excitement of it all is too much.

John and Maria go see Delia Collis tonight about the flowers for the wedding. I watched TV with Mum, Dad, Lynn, Sue & Peter. Carole didn't ring because I rang her this morning to tell her that one of the 'Supremes' (an ancient band of Negro singers), has died at the grand old age of 32. Other than this, I can report little else until tomorrow and so it leaves me only to say 'Goodnight'.

-==-