Tuesday November 12, 1974

Rhoda Wilson born 1850. Eileen and I go into town at lunchtime where I buy a film for her camera. I expect to capture several shots of Her Majesty during tomorrow's royal progress through the streets of Bradford. Can't wait.

Pleasant afternoon. Take two pictures of the girls. Sarah is a darling. She tells me her Dad is the head postmaster at York. No doubt that morsel of information was an invitation to seduce her passionately behind a filing cabinet, whilst the glories of having a head postmaster for a father-in-law was supposed to play on my sense for self-advancement & ambition.

After tea I have a driving lesson with Harry until 8. Don't do too bad, though the weather is deplorable and we see a nasty road accident down Apperley (ever after) Lane, close to the home of the late Judith Beevers - and several fire engines and the police were in attendance, no doubt pinching the sacks of sugar which had made up the load of the lorry involved in the unseemly affair.

See 'Jennie Lady Randolph Churchill' and the death of Lord Randolph on the ITV programme. The so-called young Sir Winston looked hideous.

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