Sunday August 26, 1979

_. 11th Sunday after Trinity

A beautiful hot day. The sun shone as though it might be summer. After a late breakfast it was down the lane to the Plough Inn for a lunchtime session. Midge, the landlady, looks even more like Ronnie Barker in drag, with her new hair do. Tony, her son, tells me that Earl Mountbatten has a 25 year-old girlfriend known only as Mary-Lou, who lives on the Broadlands estate in a 'grace and favour' cottage. I dispute this saying she must be a girlfriend of one of the grandsons, but he [Tony], resident in Romsey for years, says he knows full well what is going on.

At 2 Ally and I had a long walk by the River Itchen, and the scene was a romantic one. However, the constant sound of pounding water gave us the urge to create floods of our own, and we hurried back to the loo at Chillandham Cross over the meadows.

Luncheon consisted of prawn cocktail, roast turkey, late at 4pm, with Ally and Mr & Mrs D. Andrew was out playing cricket.

Graham [Smith] and Charlotte called in later. Back to the Plough until 2am. Locked in the lounge bar with Tony [who must be about 7ft tall]. We drank that Greek drink from Greece ~ Ouzo. Vomit on the way home at 2am followed by severe hiccoughs. I sat reading the Sunday Telegraph in bed, which eased the bilious attack and focused by bleary eyes. William Douglas Home's extracts from his forthcoming autobiography are very good.

Puzzled by a comment from one of Tony's friends who told us that his own mother lusts after him. Incest rearing its ugly head in Hampshire.

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Friday August 24, 1979

_. So, Ally and I eloped, at long last. At 12:30 she collected me from the YP and we headed down the M1 arriving at Oxford for just after three. My first visit to the place and not quite as grand as I expected.  We ate cheese and biscuits in a grubby café called Kane's and then made a modest tour of the city. Balliol College, &c.

On the road again at 5:30 arriving at Martyr Worthy for about 7 o'clock. Tea and scones with Bill [sic] and Bessie Dixon. Bessie was more scatter-brained than ever. Mr Dixon had spent a busy day negotiating with the Libyan government over their request for a £5m loan to purchase bullet-proof vests. Barclays have flatly refused to contemplate a loan.

Out to the Ship Inn, at Alresford. I had scampi and Ally whitebait [?]. On to the Plough Inn, Itchen Abbas, where we became quite intoxicated.

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