Sunday November 20, 1977

Ernest Blackwell.

Last after Trinity. Out to the Commercial just after twelve. Sue, Pete, Chippy and me that is. Had three or four drinks and came back to Pine Tops where Susan attempted to make lunch. I went to Edith's to ask what flour is required to make Yorkshire pudding and remained there for one and a half hours with Ernest in his kitchen drinking his lager (from the barrel) and grape wine.

On returning home I found the mortal remains of my lunch over a pan of hot water and no sooner had I started to eat it when Mum and Dad appeared. Mum was in one of her foul moods and not at all nice to Sue. I think they expected a cooked lunch on the table and the sight of a chicken skeleton and three cold Brussels sprouts cannot have been a heart warming sight.

To make matters worse I invited Edith and Ernest to come round at 4:30 and they arrived on time with bottles of wine. Mum complained of feeling tired and was far from sociable. We drank until about 8 when I evacuated the lounge and let go of my pent up frustrations on Delia's pheasant. I, with the aid of David, removed it of it's feathers and innards and conveyed the pathetic bird back into the house. I do not suppose it will make a decent meal. In fact, it strongly resembled a Vietnamese refugee. Nevertheless, one shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth ... or gift pheasant in the beak.

Mum and Dad enjoyed Norfolk but are far too grumpy for my liking. Saw a film and retired to bed at 12. Still battling on with our mutual friend 'The Count of Monte Cristo'.

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Saturday November 19, 1977

Just Susan and I closeted together for most of the day. I got out of bed at noon with a crashing hangover. For four or five hours I reclined on the sofa with a pained expression on my pale, ghastly face. Lynn went off to a wedding after lunch saying I am a disgusting specimen. She doesn't realise that we bachelors have a hell of a life with tremendous responsibilities to hold and reputations to keep up. We can't just sit by the fireside on winter evenings with a good book, perhaps watching "Crossroads" on the TV. Oh no, we have to socialise on a nauseating scale taking in parties, orgies &c, consuming grotesque quantities of spirits, wine and ale in the process. My God it's absolute hell.

with Chippy .....

The BBC went on strike tonight. I remained at home - quite alone - all the same. I even endured 'Match of the Day' featuring Wrexham and Colchester. Then I watched a Vincent Price horror film entitled 'The Amazing Dr Phibes' (1971). Not bad really.

Sue, Pete and Chippy came at 11:30 and they looked thoroughly pissed. Probably because I'm sober. We opened a few bottles. Sue was dancing in the dining room. She and Pete slept in Mum's room and Chippy slept in Lynn's bed. I made a mug of cocoa and listened to the record player.

The Duchess of Gloucester gave birth to a daughter at 2:05pm today. Unlike poor Princess Anne's child (also born at St Mary's Hospital, Paddington) this latest arrival will take a title. She'll be Lady (Christian name) Windsor. I bet Elizabeth is near the top of the list.

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Friday November 18, 1977

Margaret Phillips phoned me this morning to say Carole had yet another milogram (if that's how it's spelt)  yesterday evening and that they have discovered something in the pit of her neck which means she'll be having more treatment next week. However, her main reason for phoning was to let me know that Mr Phillips plans to be off work all week next week so enabling both of them to be be in attendance at the hospital on afternoons, and therefor my presence at the hospital will not be required. I wouldn't wish to meet John Phillips anyway. Poor kid Carole. It is of course her 20th birthday on Sunday. I posted her a birthday card this afternoon.

Although I'm just about broke I decided to go out tonight and not to leave the homestead tomorrow. Chris collected me at 9 and we went to the Fox where we were joined by Sue and Pete and Pete M. Denise was there, being entertained by Dave Rogers, and her sister Lorraine and brother-in-law, Mick. Tony and Martyn have gone to Batley Variety Club. To be honest I don't like these variety places. In fact I'd prefer to be held hostage by Baader-Meinhof terrorists for three months than be subject to the horrors of a pissed, aged and declining 'star'. You know the sort I mean, don't you? Des O'Connor, Johnny Hackett and such like.

Oakwood Hall.

From the Fox we went to the Hare at Heaton where Wendy calls everyone 'Kenneth' - this especially suits Peter Mather. Pete met Sue (of Smith's fame), and took me to Oakwood Hall. Any normal persons would feel like a tulip, or a gooseberry, or whatever people who get in the way of young lovers are termed. I didn't feel remotely like a rhododendron. I became quite pissed up. Most of my adventures at this very exclusive club are vague and hazy, and no dialogue of the event remains in my memory at all. Pete M and his Sue came back at 2:30 for coffee and I fell asleep on the rug at 4. Waking to find them gone at 8am.

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Thursday November 17, 1977

It's one o'clock on Friday morning so don't expect a John Evelyn-type of effort. I took a half day because Kathleen was getting on my nerves __________.

To pass the time whilst waiting for the start of hospital visiting time I went to look at the Stanley Spencer paintings in the Art Gallery and then, unimpressed and dejected, I went next door to study 'Burke's Presidential Families of the United States'. I laughed out loud, much to the horror of a sober gathering of students, on reading that Richard Nixon is descended from Edward III. (Aren't we all?)

Went to see Carole who wasn't quite as cheerful and looked depressed. She was wearing her engagement ring and so I presume that she and Fogarty have patched things up on Ward 26. Either that or he's given her the ring back because he thinks she's going to die. I gave her a Paddington Bear and left at 3.45. She likes me to visit. Her mum is sweet too.

Royal Albert teapot: £8.95.

Passing Schofield's (a shop) on the Headrow I spied a Royal Albert Old Country Roses teapot and forked out the £8.95 for it and carried it around town with it under my arm for a couple of hours. Got home at 5. Did nothing.

Drank a bottle of vino with Lynn and watched the Miss World competition. The title was won by Miss Bessie Braddock MP. Watched 'Rock Follies' which took me up to 12:30 when I plunged into the bath.

It's now 1:08am (Blimey, it's taken me 8 minutes to fill in this page).

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Wednesday November 16, 1977

The Press seems to forget that the nation is burning down (whilst Home Secretary Merlyn Rees fiddles at Westminster) in order to spread joy and adulation at the Royal birth.  No monarch has had a plain 'mister' for a grandson since King Edward IV, whose daughter Cicely married a licensee or fireman and had two kids and lived in a tower block in Salford. Yes, it's just like the Dark Ages all over again, folks. All we want now is a Great Fire of London in the midst of the firemen's strike.

Mum and Dad went to Ruby and Arthur's in Norfolk today.I'm glad Mum is up and about again. They're back on Sunday I expect.

Watched a David Niven film called 'Statue' on BBC2. A real telly addict these days, aren't I? I am reading everything I can lay my hands on as well. 'The Count of Monte Cristo' for instance, to name but a few, and 'The Apple Cart' by Bernard Shaw. Yes, good old G.B.S. To be precise, it's the 'Bodley Head Bernard Shaw Collected Plays with their prefaces' which includes The Apple Cart, St Joan, The Millionairess, &c, &c. Very good. I especially like his preface to the Apple Cart where he likens democracy to the sea and the fact that sometimes it is furiously violent and always uncertain.

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Tuesday November 15, 1977

Princess Anne gave birth to a son at 10:46 this morning. The news came into the office about half an hour later. Master Phillips weighed in at 7lb 9oz and he is fifth in line of succession to the Throne. I never doubted that the child would be male. The only sadness is that he is born without a title. On the six o'clock news we saw a 61 gun salute on Tower Hill. The captain was with HRH for the birth. Great news, anyway. Long Live the House of Windsor! (7pm).

Now you will probably be physically sick at what I am about to relate. Are you sitting comfortably and suitably close to a bucket, and in a strong chair and with a large glass of Scotch close at hand? No, it's just that I'm still battling through a certain library book and I'm only on page 785. Alexandre Dumas needs a kick in the rear.

Back to the Royal baby (11.45pm). On the nine o'clock news we saw the Queen leaving St Mary's Hospital, Paddington, after visiting Princess Anne and her grandson for half an hour. She looked very, very happy. Dad was listening to Mum and I discussing possible names and made a few suggestions of his own. Master Elvis Phillips was one, and Bing Phillips another. Mum says John, Charles and Philip will feature, and I'm sure Charles will be in there somewhere but can't imagine Philip Phillips. Other old favourites spring to mind like George, Edward, even William or Richard - and Andrew after the prince of that name. Oh, it's bloody wide open really. Mark Junior, perhaps?  Mark Phillips seemed to be hideously unprepared for confronting the media this evening. His speech, or lack of it, has become much worse and his embarrassment even made Angela Rippon go a bright shade of pink.

Watched TV after diving into the bath. Saw a play on the BBC which almost put me off my supper. Unadulterated violence and bad language.

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Monday November 14, 1977

Went to see Carole at 2.30 in a downpour. Managed to keep quite dry though. She was just as cheerful but looked flushed. Her mother says Carole's temperature is up to 120. I had her in stitches about something and she chaffed me and said I should not get her excited. Mrs Phillips was quite human but insisted as referring to me as 'Peter'. I told Carole all about Jacqui.

Nureyev: homosexual?

Tony, Chris and Pete had visited her over the weekend, and so she'd already been told of Jacqui's visit. ________. She is an Angel. I told her I will write and it gave her a good deal of pleasure - I think. I am going back to visit her on Thursday. It's so wonderful to see her. Three weeks ago I thought she had gone forever.

See in the EP that 'Valentino' is on (at the cinema) in Leeds. Sarah and I are going the week after next - probably Nov 24. Rudolph Nureyev is not homosexual, is he? As I'm always telling Sarah , you can't have big, butch swans can you?

Britain's firemen went on strike today for the first time ever. Let's hope that the home of Mr Rees, the Home Secretary, is alight tonight. Other important news: Princess Anne is showing no signs of delivering Master Phillips into the world. Today would have been apt, the 29th birthday of the food-poisoned Prince of Wales and the Princess and Capt Phillips's fourth wedding anniversary.

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