Sunday September 22, 1974

15th after Trinity. Up at nearly 12. Have little bacon for breakfast and discuss changing my driving test date with that of Mamas. Come upstairs and unpack and have a bath.

Today is the 26th birthday of Capt Mark Phillips. Let the Bells toll their Joyous News throughout the Kingdom! Some sort of public celebration really ought to be lavished upon the young captain who, after all, rescued Britain's favourite princess from spinsterhood.

The Gadsbys come after tea, and John and I go to the Hare in the 1100 after collecting Carol from her Yeadon residence.

Dave comes with Chris, and never do I fail to have hysterics when Mr Lawson is on the scene. Move on to that soddin' little pub in Askwith that doesn't sell crisps, peanuts 'or anything of that nature, sir'. Snobs! I wouldn't mind but it's only bloody Askwith, not Ascot.

Back to Westfield Fisheries where I dissolved into fits of laughter at Dave, who looking at the large, sprawling woman said: "She must eat two fish for every one she serves." Absolutely sick to death of laughing.

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