Monday August 4, 1975

Holiday in Scotland and Irish Republic. A beautiful day again. See in the paper that the temperature in Roundhay Park (Leeds) yesterday reached 90 degrees farenheit, and if that isn't some kind of miracle I don't know what is.

A historic day indeed. Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth The Queen Mother is 75 years-old today, and I'm sure she'll manage to give us 10 or 15 years more brilliant service in the future. Saw on the 6 o'clock news a sizeable crowd sing 'Happy Birthday, Dear Mother' to her outside Clarence House, and I only hope Willie Hamilton was watching. People like him must really feel as though they are banging their heads against a brick wall on days like this. The Queen is throwing a party at the palace this evening and all the Royal Family are attending except the Prince of Wales, who is on a fishing holiday in Iceland.

Dirty little (news)papers like the Sun are known to say that when it's cold over here the Royal Family board planes for sweltering regions on the equator. But here we are at boiling point in Britain, and Charles has boarded a plane and fled to the Arctic!

A feature in the EP says the Queen Mother is the first Scottish-born Queen of England. I am damn sure that one of the Plantagenets took a bride from over the border, and just for the record, the Queen Mother is a Hertfordshire lass! Sometimes I wonder just where we dig up our journalists.

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Saturday June 14, 1975

The great day here again. Dad wakes us at 5am and after consuming one cup of tea between the two of us we chase down the lane, John driving the cortina of course, to the Station Hotel, where we wait for the coach to London. This is the fourth consecutive trip to the Trooping the Colour I've been on - '72, '73, '74 and '75. John has accompanied me on the last three.

Besides being the Queen's official birthday it is also David's 20th. I have despatched a card to Worcester conveying my best wishes. Knowing poor David, he'll hate the thought of waving bye bye to his teens, but it comes to all of us in the end.


We mount the coach and off and away. We aim to meet Chris outside the Odeon opposite Hyde Park Corner at 10am. Alas, this is not to be. The ruddy thing catches fire or something (the coach) and we are sat in a lay-by from 6.30 until 8. The horror of knowing at 10am that Chris was waiting for us when we were still 50 miles from London just ruined everything. John slept all the way, and I felt hideously tired.

Get into London at 11.25 or something and we go straight to the palace where we see the Queen return from the Trooping. The Queen Mother and Princess Margaret and all the rest were in open landaus as usual. I could hardly enjoy any of it in the state I was in. Sweating like a pig, and weak at the knees. It was so hot, humid and cloudy too.

At 1pm after the (RAF) flypast we staggered to Carnaby Street (via the tube of course) where we had a few drinks (me on coke) until 3. We then rang home to get Chris's hotel phone number and then contacted the hotel leaving a message telling Chris to meet us at the Tiger Bar before 9pm, when we would have to leave.

At about 4 o'clock I was too tired to do anything other than lay down, and so we made our way to the Tower. At first we sat on a bench opposite HMS Belfast, but I couldn't keep my eyes open. We both went to the garden of rest, a memorial for all the merchant seamen killed in the two World Wars, and I slept soundly for an hour. At 6 we went in to the Tiger Bar, where I had a few pernods, cokes and tomato juices. MET CHRIS AT 8O'CLOCK. Success at last! We handed over the £180 holiday money and had a few more drinks. Our coach left at 9pm. But at least we achieved our aim. I'd given up hope of ever seeing Chris at all.

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Monday May 12, 1975

It is 38 years tolday since the Queen Mother was crowned Queen Consort of England in Westminster Abbey. The poor old chap around whom the service was centred was taken from us some 23 years ago, but I am sure that the Royal Family will be thinking about him today.

A wet and nasty day really. Stay inside the YP until it is absolutely necessary for me to go out at 4.30 for my bus, and get quite a soaking making my way home.

Nothing of great interest is in the news today. Just the same old Common Market Referendum trash and more propaganda about Mr Wedgwood Benn. One MP said the other day that Mr Benn would be Prime Minister before Christmas, and I don't think anyone could ask for a worse Christmas present. The very thought of Britain's answer to Hitler and Mussolini rolled into one being installed at No 10, Downing Street, is something I really don't want to dwell on.

Kathleen is back tomorrow and that is something else I don't wish to spend a lot of time thinking about, because life is hectic and unnecessarily 'panicky' when she is in the office.

Christine still dominates my thoughts. That girl doesn't know just how much I love her, although she always gives me a beautiful smile and calls me 'biased' when I attempt to talk her out of her infatuation for Gary taking over altogether. Such a tease she is really. However, she is quite aware of the fact that I will never give in. Christine Mary Dacre Braithwaite won't be rid of me until I am dead and buried.

The Royal visit to Japan is just about over and it seems to have been a tremendous success. The Queen's looked lovely all week - fashionable too - and no doubt we can expect a sizeable trade agreement with the Japanese shortly. The monarchy certainly pulls in the needed cash from abroad.

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Monday April 28, 1975

Dull, but humid day. First day back at the YP since Apr 19, and I didn't feel like working at all. Not too busy actually. Have a laugh with Sarah about flags and when they should be flown. Even I got into a confusion about certain aspects of this. For instance, if a member of the Royal Family dies on the birthday of another member of the Royal Family, the Union Flag remains at full-mast unless a statement saying otherwise is released by the Palace. This what happened last June when the Duke of Gloucester died on the Duke of Edinburgh's birthday. Imagine the confusion if a member of the Royal Family died on St George's Day along with former Prime Minister Lord Avon and the Chilean head of state!

See in The Times that the new Duke and Duchess of Norfolk spent a few days with the Queen at Windsor last week. No doubt Her Majesty informed the duke that she'd give him the Garter as soon as one becomes available. They're normally announced on April 23, but I think the membership of the order is full up at present. By all accounts Uncle Miles won't have long to wait. Viscount Montgomery is far from well, and he's pushing 90 or so...

The decorating in the dining room is just about complete, and the lounge is next on the list. My fingers are quite itching for the feel of a paint brush, but we've no white emuslsion in storage at the moment.

The TV is boring tonight. I continue with 'George VI' by Wheeler-Bennett. The old king did a good deal towards making Anglo-American relations what they are today, with his friendship with President Franklin Roosevelt in the war years. I am an ardent monarchist and probably biased on the subject, but I fail to see why these anti-monarchist people cannot see that the Royal Family are the greatest ambassadors the world has ever seen. Prince Charles at this moment is doing what the Duke of Windsor did in the 1920s, and so little credit is given to him.

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Saturday April 26, 1975

Dad decorating the dining room aroused me from my slumbers at 1pm. Mum came in from the hairdressers and we had lunch immediately. Susan rang Peter to question him about last night and I couldn't help thinking how obnoxious and yak it would be to know a female would be ringing to get all the gruesome details off you the morning after. Let's hope I'll never be in that state.

Saw Maura and Marian last night, and Sandy Lawson. Indeed, it was my night for women. The most enjoyable __at Wikis for ages.

I'm glad I've been able to catch up at last with the diary. It's now about 6.30pm on April 26, so order is once again restored.

A beautiful day really. Cannot understand our weather. One week it snows, and the next week we are struck by a heatwave.

For 52 years the Queen Mother has been a member of our Royal Family. This day in 1923 the Duke of York married Lady Elizabeth Bowes Lyon and all's been well since. A true milestone in the history of Great Britain.

To the Hare at 8.30 and the gang go to Addingham on a minor pub-crawl. These are getting more regular as of late. Have a laugh with Christine White and Stuart (Newton), who are tremendous fun. Back to Pine Tops to see 'The Third Man'. A good film which always makes me think of Dad. He likes it so much.

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Tuesday April 15, 1975

The Right Honourable Denis Healey, MP, Chancellor of the Exchequer, presented his Budget this afternoon, and I'm saying nothing whatsoever about it, other than he did nothing too drastic or outrageous. Just the usual load of old rubbish.

Busy day at the YP, and I'll be glad when Friday comes around again. A week off is just what I need at the moment.

I see a good feature in The Times on the Duchess of Windsor, still battling on at 78 years old. The poor old soul received sweet sod all from the British people, and the Royal Family ought to be ashamed. Three years since the duke died and they've done their utmost to forget all about her.

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Thursday April 3, 1975

Rather a long day really. Drew up an edited version of the Royal Family Tree this lunchtime, showing the descent of the Queen, the Gloucesters and Kents from Queen Victoria and Mr Saxe-Coburg-Gotha. Sarah was really fascinated and said that for the first time in her life she can understand the different relationships. It goes to show that my little perversion isn't a complete waste of time after all.

Now for other things. Only one more day left for me as a teenager. A revolting thought and I don't want to dwell on it, but somehow it won't get out of my mind. Marita says it's horrible at first. Well, one thing's for certain. What's that? You can't avoid birthdays. No, Siree.

Ring Christine this afternoon. Have a scream down the phone and I told her the joke about the nun and the jester. OK, I'll tell you too: What is the definatition of a nun riding on a jester's back? VIRGIN on the ridiculous! Bum, bum.

Oh. Here's another. The Grand Old Duke of York, he had ten thousand men.
His case comes up next week.

Everyone a gem, ladies and gentlemen.

Dave L brings his recording equipment round at 8.30 and stays until 12. A bugger of a job changing plugs all the time. Snowing like hell it is too - on April the bloody 3rd! Might just as well be December.

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Thursday March 27, 1975

Maundy Thursday. Yet another bloody busy day. Chaos and Hell Fire all rolled into one. Curious about something on the Court page of the Daily Telegraph. The Queen, Queen Mother and Princess Anne yesterday attended a memorial service for Her Majesty's cousin, Rev the Hon Andrew Elphinstone. No where have I seen anything to the effect that he has actually died. So, being highly curious I rang the Daily Telegraph to be informed that he had passed away on or about March 21. Obviously such information is of little interest to sane people, but it means a lot to me.

Sarah was in a good mood for a change and leapt to my aid when I had written a letter to Christine only to discover I had no postage stamps. She suggested I route around in the waste paper basket to salvage a respectable looking unfranked stamp to glue onto my epistle. And to think her Papa is the head postmaster at York.

In my letter to Christine I woffled on for ages about nothing. Well, when I say nothing I mean woffling on about Gary's surname - Walters. Being absolutely insane I connect Gary with Lucy Walters, the mistress of King Charles II, by making out he was her grandson.

Home at 5.15, my usual hour of late, and sit in front of the tv making little attempt to prepare for my meeting with Helen at the Hare. Both John and Papa refused to take me to the pub, so I go by bus, arriving at about 8.45. Sit with Helen, and Naomi (who John thought wasn't going out) brought us home at kicking out time.

I departed for bed after being quizzed as to what I'd been doing out with Naomi.

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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.

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Sunday February 23, 1975

2nd in Lent. Up at 11.00am. See in the Sunday papers that the revolting Communist rag The Morning Star is in possession of certain papers, government papers too, relating to the personal share holdings of the Queen and other members of the Royal Family. The poor Queen will be distraught with grief. This country makes me sick. The shear lack of decency and manners shown by the Press emphasises too much the need for censorship, and interrogation and torture of all newspaper editors, and the need for certain people, who shall be nameless, to go down to the headquarters of certain annonymous socialist newspapers and reduce them to nothing more than rubble and ashes. May the Morning Star and all who serve in her be eternally damned. Amen.

Chicken for lunch, and then in keeping with the traditional Sunday afternoon we all go and sit listening to the Jimmy Savile programme on the radio. Don't really know what's going on tonight. John of course is going off to the Hare with Naomi, and Chris has mentioned the pictures, but I'm on the verge of bankruptcy at this moment in time, but I'd rather not discuss anything involving financial topics.

Before tea I cut John's hair. Yes, he finally decided to hand it all over to the National Trust, and I am sure that the national will be eternally grateful. John and Naomi go out, but I stay in with Mum. Sue is at Peter's and Lynn and Dave are at the pictures. Come to bed at about 12.30 after seeing a Bridget Bardot film. John created a sensation with his hair in the pub, and says the general opinion of the gang was a favourable one.

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Wednesday February 19, 1975

Beautiful day. A crisp morning with the sun as big as a football following us all the way to Leeds. One would hardly believe it's 93,000,000 miles away, or something equally fantastic.
Margaret Thatcher picked her shadow Cabinet yesterday. Willie Whitelaw is the deputy leader, and the repulsive Sir Geoffrey Howe is 'Chancellor'. Peter Walker and Geoffrey Rippon have received the boot, as it were, and the prodigal Reggie Maudling's been forgiven all his sin sand receives the Foreign and Commonwealth job. Definately a right wing leap for the Tories but I can't say that I disagree. The country needs a good old Churchillian party.

Go to town with Eileen at lunchtime and spend £1 on absolutely nothing. Must be a sign of the times. I can recall the days when I got one shilling and six pence a week, and on Friday I still had change in my pocket.

Prince Andrew is having another quiet birthday today. The Queen and the Duke of Edinburgh are of course out in the Bahamas; the Prince of Wales, the Duke and Duchess of Gloucester, and Earl Mountbatten are in Nepal for the coronation of the King; Princess Margaret is on holiday in the sun, and Lord Snowdon is working in Australia. No one to help him celebrate. I bet they've had a job finding counsellors of state. The Hon Gerald Lascelles and the late Lady Patricia Ramsay will be acting in this capacity no doubt.

To the Hare with John, Naomi and Gillian. The latter young lady certainly knows how to keep hold of someone. Just because I got carried away with her in Peter's van last Friday she thinks I ought to be infatuated for life. Not on her Nellie. Chris, Laura and (Jane's) Helen joined us. Boring really.

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Monday February 17, 1975

Quiet day at the YP. Do all my routine before lunch and sit with a beef and onion sandwich and 'The News of the World' after. George Best is publishing his memoirs in full sordid detail, so what with Richard Crossman it seems like an embarrassing time for certain people at the moment. Lord George-Brown and Sir Matt Busby will be particularly ruffled by these publications.

Crossman makes the Queen out to be a feeble, pathetic figure. She's always 'The poor Queen'.

A bright, sunny day. Home in the light for the first time this year. Salad for tea. Just watch TV later.

Bob Cryer, the silly MP for Keighley, is now joining Mr Hamilton in the ritual humilation of the Royal Family. He is criticising the Queen and Prince Philip's current state visit to Bermuda. 'Most people don't have the chance to get away like this', he said. I quite agree. Most people don't 'get the chance' to go on a gruelling tour, shaking 7,000,000 hands, dishing out medals, and throwing large, sweaty banquets for old diplomats, and not many people want to do this either. Mr Cryer must think the Queen is going on holiday. Another example of 'Westminster ignorance' which is reaching epidemic proportions.

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Monday January 20, 1975

Back to work.

Sarah, my former heartthrob, is in a miserable state. Her latest boyfriend has been done by the Lancashire Police for driving without due care and attention. The poor chap was breathylised.

That repulsive man William Hamilton, MP was on the BBC this evening saying all sorts of obnoxious things about the Royal Family. He hates Princess Margaret so much to the extent that he sounds unstable.He made several comments about the Queen Mother being a scheming, shrewd business woman, and not the friendly, charming creature she appears to be. The Queen, according to the learned gentleman, is out of touch, and he had the cheek to stand before TV cameras and say that monarchy and pageantry and completely detached from one another. Insane, horribly insane.

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Wednesday December 11, 1974

James II abdicated 1688. An absolutely perishing day. By the way things are going I forsee Bing Crosby's dream about a white Christmas coming true.

Eileen and I go shopping at lunchtime. We drift around the centre of town in agonising cold and get fish and chips from a little place near the Corn Exchange. Come back to the YP after an hour and with nothing to show for it.

Pleasant afternoon with Sarah. It certainly seems ages since we were in bed together that night at the Johnson residence - and our relationship is degenerating into a mediocre sort of thing. May have better luck with her at Christmas.

38 years ago today King Edward VIII renounced the throne, in order to have his way with Wallis Simpson. Every other book published this year is either on the subject of the Duke of Windsor or the Royal Family since 1917.

A rumpus in the Press about the Prince of Wales spotted at an X-certificate film 'Percy's Progress' at a London cinema. His Royal Highness is reported to have told the usherette that he had 'enjoyed it very much'. And we are all informed that he devoured an ice-cream in the interval. The film deals with a man who has had a penis transplant, and is a follow-up to 'Percy' a good film of a few years ago. A cartoon in the Daily Mail this morning implies that Mary Whitehouse wants a referendum on the monarchy, following this plebian act by our beloved heir.

John and I go to the Hare & Hounds with Mum & Dad, where we consume an excessive amount of alcohol. Following this we move on to the White Horse at Burley-in-Wharfedale, where cousin Dorothy resides. Unfortunately, she's having a night off, and we spend the last hour supping ale.

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Saturday November 9, 1974

Birth of Edward VII, 1841. Lynn wakes me at the usual time. Feel dreadful as I usually do on a Saturday morning. Have my usual orange juice and ticking off from Lynn about getting drunk the night before 'all these late nights can't be doing you any good', &c. Work until 4 o'clock. Carol didn't come until nearly 12 because she overslept & she stayed with me for a couple of hours. Haven't heard anything since Thursday about her and Michael having a ridiculous divorce, though once the seeds of destruction are sown I can see nothing but trouble and chaos ahead. Home at 4.

Hear from Mum that Dad's new job with the CID is no more. The Chief Superintendent came to see him this morning and more or less told him to get lost as far as his future in the force is concerned. He's positively choked about it. Refuse categorically to go out tonight and almost succeed in my aim.

Sit by the tv with Mum until 11 o'clock watching the Festival of Remembrance from the (Royal) Albert Hall. The Queen, Duke of Edinburgh, Queen Mother, Duke of Gloucester, Princess Alice, Duchess of Gloucester, the Duke and Duchess of Kent in the royal box. The poor Duke of Edinburgh looked ill and positively ancient. At 53 he should have at least 20 years of life left in him, but by the way he was standing tonight I can't see him doing so.

At nearly 11 John, Peter and Keith call in and drag me off to the Cow & Calf where we live it up until 2. Keith drank himself idiotically under the table and he sat unconscious in the car for ten minutes before driving us home. 25MPH all the way!

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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.

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