Monday April 30, 1979

_. Denise sent me the holiday bill which has to be paid by May 13. A further £162.73 is required, and this means we will have paid £182.73 for what was advertised as a £156 holiday. They have a nerve, don't they? And let's not forget, this is only bed and so-called breakfast. You can't call a hard bread roll and a spoonful of green marmalade a breakfast can you?

Rang Dave G with the dreadful news. He was undisturbed by it, and we joked about the Bournemouth trip. At least he is on speaking terms with Neil again. Peter N came up late, at 9:20, and he brought with him a bottle of Harvey's Bristol Cream sherry and some cans of lager, and fish and chips. Where has he found the cash? Peter Nason is Guiseley's answer to the Duke of Westminster.

Watched a programme about Margaret Thatcher on the BBC. She is really coming over brilliantly in this campaign and her message is put over with force and conviction. Which is more than can be said of the Ayatollah Callaghan. He has made an astonishing attack on poor Edward Heath, and the only reason why I think he has done this is that he is suffering from the delusion that Mr Heath is still the leader of the Tory Party. Why attack Edward Heath?

Bed at 1:15am after discussing the National Front with Papa.

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Sunday April 29, 1979

_. Felt dull and nauseous for most of the day. Only my dinner at 6:30pm restored me to normality.

Dad and Jim were once again sprawled under the car and Jim remained to dinner. So did Peter N.

Bing Crosby on the telly this afternoon and Marilyn Monroe tonight. I can see from the movie why she actually killed herself. __________.

Laughed at Auberon Waugh, who is standing on Thursday in Jeremy Thorpe's constituency, for, I think, the Dog Lovers' Party. The ghastly Jeremy doesn't see the funny side of this for some reason. To bed after 12, Read 'The Corps of the Royal Military Police' by Crozier. Don't worry, I'm not thinking of joining.

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Saturday April 28, 1979

The Daily Mail says the Queen was 'badly shaken' and the YP says she was 'unshaken' in last night's car accident so I suppose the truth lies somewhere in between. Let's say, shaken not stirred, eh?

Jim Nason came up at the crack of dawn and he and Dad spent the whole day flat on their backs underneath the car. Welding I believe. And all for the sake of some crumbly MOT. I simply couldn't stand the strain of owning a vehicle. One day I will have to go mobile but for the time being I am staying on my own two feet.

This afternoon I took to a hot, soapy bath with Paul Gambaccini, and wallowed in the steaming firmament.  Lynn and Dave came here at 7:30 and Peter joined us before we left for Jill and Tim's engagement party at Farsley Celtic Football Club.

Uncle Tony looked exhausted and I think the coming election is preying on his mind. Guests included Uncle Peter and Auntie Jean. Peter says he's "voting for Maggie" next Thursday which surprised me.

The girls and most of the menfolk danced in formation until after 12. Susan and Diane are just like sisters. The resemblance was noted by many there. Why does my sister [Lynn] always wear trousers? I haven't seen Lynn in a dress for years, and her legs are so slender too.

Back at Auntie Hilda's afterwards Lynn was passing round the sandwiches and nibbles and one of Tony's Asian friends declined a pork pie. "Oh come on, or I'll put you on my black list!" she exclaimed. Black List!

Jill was rolling me cigarettes. Poor Tim fell through a glass door, and then slept on a rug in the lounge frying on the gas fire. Home at about 3:30am. Headache.

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Friday April 27, 1979

Felt acutely rough all day. Kathleen laughed at my condition. I determine to stay by my own fireside tonight. I was horrified looking into my wallet this morning. I spent £10 last night at the Elma and at Oakwood (Hall). 

Speaking to Dave W I told him that last Thursday was my very last 'Thursday night with the lads'. ___________.

So, tonight I stuck to my resolve and sat like a chunk of vegetation before the TV set. The Queen was involved in a road accident en route from Heathrow to Windsor this evening. She wasn't injured but her chauffeur-driven Rover was badly pranged. A spokesman said Her Majesty was unshaken by the incident, but I suspect she must live in fear of kidnap by the IRA.

Bed at 1am.

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Thursday April 26, 1979

Back to the YP. Pay day. It has been like a dream missing one full week of the general election campaign. Let us hope and pray that Mr Callagas is not re-elected next week. Labour until 1984 would just about finish us all off. We are already on a par with Mozambique, and I do suppose that the populace of the Spanish Sahara are living in opulence in comparison with the starving masses of Bradford and the industrial north. Margaret Hilda (Thatcher) will be our salvation.

I fully intended staying at home tonight but Chippy phoned at 7:30 and I gave in. I do give in very easily when pleasure is dangled like a carrot before my beady, donkey-like eyes.

Out to the Shoulder at 8:15. Micky H_____ is out too but he leaves at 9:30 to go commit adultery. This is terrible. His poor wife is expecting a baby in May. On to the White Cross and the Commercial. I wasn't in the mood for the Elma, and we all realised this was a mistake, so we moved on  to Oakwood Hall. Bought Dave W his entry in and his booze all night. Got drunk. Met Steve Hudson and my 'Oakwood girl' Sarah. Home for cheese on toast and coffee at about 2am.

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Wednesday April 25, 1979

Ate the usual breakfast washed down with oceans of splashing tea, and left at 10am without saying goodbye to Arthur or to Lady Spencer-Churchill, his wife. I have stolen a very large sun parasol from the hotel which will make a splendid present for Lynn and David. I could not possibly hand over this piece of 'hot' stolen property to dear Daddy, who is a fine, upstanding member of our local law enforcement establishment. Questions would be asked in the House and 'Panorama' would dedicate a whole thirty minute programme to the incident should it ever reached the courts. We Rhodeses are VIPs in this area, you know.

I was in charge of navigating the route homeward. Back up to Devizes and then we by-passed Oxford and joined the M1  at Northampton. Before hitting the motorway we indulged in a few drinks, but were put off somewhat by the very noisy, endless political discussions going on in the bar. Politics and alcohol should never meet and be avoided at all costs.

God only knows how Alison gets from Winchester to Leeds in only three and a half hours. We didn't reach Guiseley until just after 7pm. Bill and Garry were unimpressed by Harry Ramsden's and I was moaned at for quite some time. We went off to Lynn and Dave's at 7:30 and we watched TV and sat with them for a couple of hours. They were very impressed by the large, gaily coloured umbrella. David promises to make a stand for it to adorn the garden this summer. Lynn is always so amiable and wonderful with visitors. Both Lynn and Dave are smoking cigars on an increasing scale. Back home at 9:30 where Mum and Dad sit laughing at Billy. They left after 10:30. It is good to go away, but equally nice to be home. Everything looks so incredibly tidy.

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Tuesday April 24, 1979

At breakfast Billy remarked how incredibly thirsty he was (alluding to the locked bar) to which Arthur replied: "That's why I have given you an extra large tea pot." It was wonderful just to watch Billy's face. Arthur deserved an Oscar too.

As usual Neil and the silent twosome cleared off while I was still attacking the toast, but we didn't mind in the least. Miserable sods.

At 9:30 we went by car on another jaunt across the southern countryside. Lymington Spa, or is it just plain Lymington? Anyway, we found ourselves at Beaulieu and after a few drinks (12-2pm) we went to the National Motor Museum and then visited Palace House where Lord Montagu hangs out. The old cars were fascinating but I didn't rate the house. Not a patch on Castle Howard.

Lord Montagu of Beaulieu was charged with indecency back in the 1950s. But I believe he is now a reformed peer, and has put groping around in public lavatories behind him.

Back to Bournemouth for fish and chips and then out for more drinks. Tonight our bedroom drinks party became quite riotous. Garry demolished Billy's bed and destroyed a couple of towel rails. We had to swap the furniture from room 17 upstairs, and at one point Garry thought he was Terry Wogan, the Irish lunatic.

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