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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Tuesday February 11, 1975

Foggy day. See in the papers that the good old Prime Minister will propose a pay rise for the Queen and the other people on the Civil List either today or next week. Good old Harold. It's the one good thing he's done in his first year in office. He can't be such an old sod really. He only pretends he's one.

Margaret Hilda Thatcher is now Head of the Conservative party and Leader of Her Majesty's Opposition. She beat Mr Whitelaw by about 50 votes. Truly a historic occasion and I think nothing but good can come of it. Whether she'll ever become Prime Minister is another matter altogether. Good Old Harold looks like seeing the 1970s out.

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Monday February 10, 1975

A unusual Monday. After the usual ritual of work, John and I went to the Hare & Hounds where his ladyfriend had begged him to attend upon her. Quite a stunning piece she is too. Called Naomi, or 'Nay', an attractive name. It certainly made a change going out with a different crowd.

Had a letter from Denny today. She said she thought she'd been 'a cow' over the way she's ignored me and the happy family these past few months. I forgave her immediately. (Conceited swine that I am).

The Tory Fiasco reaches its cresendo tomorrow. Will it be Margaret Thatcher or old Willie Whitelaw? In my own mind I know that Mrs T will succeed, but anything can happen in politics. Have a bet with Sarah, Carol and Eileen. I stand to win 10p.

A year ago almost to the day I was saying that Mr Heath's (who's he?) leaning towards male company could not be doing him any good. I was right. One day you can be Prime Minister and the next you're just a middle-aged old puff who used to be a big shot in the Conservative party. Cruel, cruel politics.

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Thursday February 6, 1975

Pleasant day. Eileen and I mess about in town at lunchtime and I return home furnished with 'How Long' by Ace, a particular favourite record of Miss Braithwaite and myself.

Pleased to see the flags flying in Leeds and indeed above Guiseley Police Station, for the twenty third anniversary of the accession of Her Majesty the Queen. These anniversaries certainly come round quickly. Two years time and it will be the Silver Jubilee.

The Tory party fiasco continues. The revolting reactionary Sir Geoffrey Howe is now standing for the leadership, along with the Nation's Sweetheart Mrs Thatcher, William Whitelaw, one of the bulldog breed, old James Prior of whom little can be said, and an unknown person called Peyton, who was originally thought to have become extinct along with the Dodo and Lord Hailsham.

Do nothing at all in the evening other than watch the TV, and play my new record a few times. Bed at a relatively early hour.

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