Thursday December 13, 1973

Britain today came to a grinding standstill when the Prime Minister, Mr Heath, announced drastic measures in the Commons. From Monday many industries will be on a three day week, which will create massive unemployment by the beginning of the New Year. Tv will close down at 10.30, and Christmas tree lights will only be allowed to be lit on Christmas Eve, Christmas Day and Boxing Day. The steel industry is to close down and the so-called 'national boom' is dead. Poor Ludovic Kennedy was heart-broken when he realised that his programme 'Mid-Week' would be axed by Mr Heath's measures. The poor man was desolate. Anyway, on the bright side, turkeys are free from the VD epidemic which wiped out millions of them last year, and no restrictions concerning the manufacture of Christmas puddings have yet been enacted by HM Government. Poor Sarah was shivering with cold at work this afternoon due to the ban on office heating. Petrol will not be rationed until the New Year. And if you want my opinion, all we want now is a World War and we will have had everything. Went for a drink with Peter Lazenby at lunchtime. Didn't return to the YP until 2.20. Miss Went was nice about it. I was pissed. Drinking on an empty stomach always flattens me. Going to the editor's Xmas booze-up on Dec 21. Bed at 11.30. -==-

Wednesday December 12, 1973

Miss Went came back today after having had two days off. Uneventful day at the YP. Cold and rainy.

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Tuesday December 11, 1973

An interesting morning filing the obits. The Prince of Wales was yesterday made a personal Aide-de-Camp to the Queen. The other ADCs are the Dukes of Gloucester and Kent, and Earl Mountbatten of Burma.

See in the Express that another of Prince Charles's girlfriends is engaged. Lady Henrietta FitzRoy, a daughter of the Duke and Duchess of Grafton. However, Jane Wellesley is still tipped for the top.

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Monday December 10, 1973

Abdication of King Edward VIII, 1936. Miss Went is away for two days and a relaxed atmosphere prevails at the YP. Little Janice is far too domineering in her attitude to me - I'll put her in her rightful place before very long.

Praise be to God in Heaven! It's happened. The Burtons are back together again. Poor Liz was wheeled out of hospital by a jubilant Richard, and the couple flew to Rome to spend Christmas with Sophia Loren. This really does go to show that true love always finds a way. Liz said she'd separated from Richard because 'we love each other too much'. Eh?

Poor Mark Phillips is in bed and not with Princess Anne it seems. The poor boy has gastro-entiritis. Must be all that South American food he's been getting. Poor chap.

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Sunday December 9, 1973

2nd in Advent. A completely restful day. Listen to Jimmy Savile all afternoon. Dad gives John and me dirty looks through the window - but how can he expect us to leap up and spend all day pulling up the dead foliage in his herbacious border? The sabbath is for rest, and we certainly obeyed that command.

No one rang in the evening and Lynn, Sue and I watched a Stewart Grainger and Jean Simmonds film 'Footsteps in the Fog' - quite thrilling. John went out with Christine W, and Mum and Dad went to Esholt where they saw Chris, Andy and Laura with the Cartwright Set. Mother thinks_____________. I'd better not tell him. He'd never come again. Bed after 'Up Sunday' at 12.

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Saturday December 8, 1973

Get up at about 11. Do absolutely nothing all day, until evening that is. Chris rings early on and says he's going to the Emmotts. I ring Denise who is in the bath, and then have a bath myself. I hear from Chris that Denny purchased a moped the other day! I can just imagine dear Denny racing through the wilds of Arthington like a cat out of hell!

Meet Peter Mather, Philip Cartwright and Finlay - we all rush off to the Commercial at Esholt - Mum and Dad's local. Such a strange pub - more like the drawing room of a Victorian vicarage. Very Dickensian. Philip and Fin go off to do a disco, and we three return to the Emmotts. I have a Guinness and decide I ought to drink it more often. Mind you, anything is better than the Emmotts bitter, which is quite revolting. Peter brings me home after fish and chips from the shop opposite the Emmotts. Go to bed at about 12.30 after watching Phil Silvers on the Parkinson programme - quite funny.

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Friday December 7, 1973

Busy day at the YP. I made photostat copies of all the family births, marriages and death certificates.

A very pleasant evening. Chris, Peter Mather, Laura and her friend Maggie, Andy, Philip Cartwright and myself all went to the Cow & Calf which is now 'Samantha's' - really beautiful now, but the memories of the old place will always linger. Dance until 2.0. Peter brings me home to the door. It is a cold, rainy night. Christmas is only 3 weeks away - not likely to be a white one either.

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Thursday December 6, 1973

Pay day again. I receive an extra twenty odd pence. Old Mr Linacre must have realised by now that my service to the YP is invaluable.

Arrive home at 6.30. The train from Leeds was incredibly slow. Uncles Harry and Bert are devouring my evening meal. Uncle B is still suffering with a bad foot, gangrine or something.

Dad is so pleased to see his brothers. Mum thinks Uncle B is a strange character. He is so vague. Uncle Harry is my favourite uncle on Dad's side of the family - with a funny sense of humour. They go out to Burley-in-Wharfedale to see cousin Dorothy, who resides at the White Horse, not returning until 2.30. I see tv until 12.

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Wednesday December 5, 1973

The train to Leeds is getting hideous. More and more people have to stand, and when petrol rationing comes in it can only get worse. The train will be even worse on Tuesday, when the railworkers go slow. What a state this nation is in.

See in the YP that Sir William Worsley, father of the Duchess of Kent, died at Hovingham last night. The new owner of Hovingham Hall is Sir Marcus Worsley, 5th Baronet, who is 49. I do not pretend to be a keen admirer of the Worsley clan, but the late Sir William was born on April 5, and for that reason alone he deserves a mention.

At 1.0 I meet Chris and Laura at the Jubilee, near the Town Hall, a pleasant half an hour. For lunch I had 2 egg and cress sandwiches.

The honeymoon of Pcss. Anne and Capt. Phillips ended today and they began an official visit to Ecuador in South America. The couple were all bronzed with the sun, and Mark looked quite pleased with himself. I am afraid to say the princess looked somewhat sullen.

Tv boring all evening. Bed 11.0pm.

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Tuesday December 4, 1973

I awake at 7.55 with Dad's friend hammering on the door. Everyone had over slept. By 8.20 I was in Guiseley station. Phew!

Kathleen was not very pleasant at work today because last night she was "popped up" to the eye balls. The poor dear had a hangover.

My typing lessons finished today until next Monday - a weeks break will do me the world of good. Typing is such monotony at 'Sight & Sound'. Bed 10.30.

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Monday December 3, 1973

I ought to _______________________in August, because my heart is broken beyond repair. Four months have passed since darling June left me, and yet no day goes by without me wishing for a miracle to return her to me. It's not as if I don't try to find someone else, but her image is always in my mind. Her voice, her sayings. I will never stop loving her.

Agreed, sometimes weeks go by without me writing her name, but you must realise that most things I write are only useless facts, to cover my innermost feelings. One day I do suppose that I will forget about my so-called broken heart, and look back upon these months with nothing but fondness. But one cannot act of context with the present. At this moment in time I love June more than anyone or anything else.

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