Saturday November 17, 1979

_. Disgusting I know, but the first sign of life we experienced today was at 1:15pm. My head felt like a ton of pig iron. Ally similarly indisposed but brought hot, black coffee to bed. A damp, dismal day.

At 2 I went in search of groceries, but came back with nothing but a bunch of grapes. A pound of grapes costs 40p these days. Ally, in the steam of the kitchen, finds my offerings peculiar. I sprawled upon the sofa, as a Roman might have done, dropping grape after grape into my mouth. It was an afternoon of domestic bliss.

Phoned Mama and invited ourselves to dinner. Phoned Lynn too, who said she and Dave were going out with Sue & Pete and so we invited ourselves to join them. Ally's car is hopeless. She attempted to start the engine, without success. By bus to Guiseley for 6:30. We always titter and giggle on public transport, don't ask me why. Dinner was exquisite. Out at 8:30 with Sue, Pete, Lynn and Dave. We were all subdued, and to make matters worse a fight broke out in the White Cross which upset the girls. On to the Shoulder. Chippy, Debbie and Gus were there [back from Holland]. Lynn in one of her infuriating moods. Home to Pine Tops at 11. Ally stayed the night. Lynn dropped us off at home and called in to see Mum and Dad for an hour. Bed at 1:30.

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Friday November 16, 1979

_. Mornings are such fun now that The Times has returned from the dark of what looked like extinction.

Something quite shocking has been revealed today. Sir Anthony Blunt, KCVO, Surveyor of the Queen's Pictures, 1952-72, and to George VI, 1945-52, has been exposed in Parliament as the 'fourth man' in the Burgess, Maclean and Philby spy scandal of the 1950s and 60s. The Queen was told of this by the then Attorney-General in 1964, but it seems that the then PM Sir Alec Douglas-Home was not told of the facts. It seems that Her Majesty was asked to retain Sir Anthony in the Royal Household because he, in 1964, was granted immunity from prosecution in exchange for information. In effect he became a double agent. No prime ministers until Mrs Thatcher was aware of this intrigue. Today the Queen annulled Professor Blunt's KCVO. It's going to blow up into something big by the look of things.

By bus to Lidget Green at 8:30. Ally and I went on a pub crawl. She was almost fixed up, at one of the more respectable establishments, as an organist for the Christmas period. An old chap there was amazed that Ally could read 'the dots' on the sheet music. Back to Club Street. We sat on the rug until 6am.

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Thursday November 15, 1979

. _. Driving rain. To the dentist for my six monthly inspection. My dentist, or butcher, is an obliging bearded youth who is reeking of garlic, and who seems quite disinterested in doing anything whatsoever with the contents of my mouth. Hough, his predecessor, who has disappeared, pulled, filled and twisted anything he could get his hands on. Got a soaking going home, but smiled throughout the process.

Princess Anne's son is two years old today, and HRH isn't at Gatcombe Park to celebrate with the toddler. The princess is in Canada on a Save the Children Fund mission. Dedication for you. Leaving a child at home to go to a minor function in Ottawa.

A Margaret and Jim night. No Ally.

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Wednesday November 14, 1979

_. Snow appeared but rain soon followed to make it disappear. Two phone calls of varying importance. Ally phoned after lunch with some sombre news about her car. The repairs amount to £60 and the machine requires a further fortune spending on an exhaust and numerous other odds and ends. She says that when she went to bed on Sunday night she went into a deep sleep, failed to hear her alarm clock, and woke at 4:40pm on Monday! She does not appreciate my concern and says I am overwrought. The poor girl is now financially ruined and things look very bleak.

The next phone call came this evening and was from Dave L. He wants a copy of an old Sunday Observer magazine. I explained the chances of me laying hands on a copy are slim. He chatted about MM and Marita and concluded somewhat teasingly that he has news which he cannot possibly repeat.
'Is it about them getting married'? I enquired. 'Yes', he replied: 'Who told you'? I laughed and answered: 'You did of course, just now.' I'd tricked it out of him. Oh, we did laugh. How cunning of me. The wedding, he says, is to take place on December 8, in Rawdon.

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Tuesday November 13, 1979

_. Tomorrow is the birthday of the Prince of Wales. His thirty first. He is to attend a concert by Shirley Bassey at Wembley, but no delightful deb is included in his party. Whatever the gossip columnists might say he isn't taking Sabrina, Davina, Rowena or Mavis. The poor man must be sick to death of the constant badgering and speculation. Blimey, he is only 31, and yet the Press seems to have given up hope of ever seeing 'action man' take a bride. Charles's cousin, Prince Michael of Kent, was 36, my Uncle Peter was 35, and Sir Cecil Beaton remains single at 70. So, all is not lost.

Lynn and Dave came to dinner tonight. Afterwards I was very rude and when we all retired to the sitting room I buried my head behind 'The Times' which appeared today for the first time in almost a year. Thank God it's back. Sue took to her bed at 11 but Pete stayed until 12:15, and we watched a dreadful film about an air crash. Bed with Hitler at 12:30.

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Monday November 12, 1979

_. Can I talk about Senator Edward Kennedy and then Mrs Margaret Thatcher? The senator is most certainly the next president of the United States, but Mother doesn't seem to think so. I am of the opinion that anyone with the surname Kennedy can do nothing but succeed in American politics. Mother says that the fact that Teddy murdered his girlfriend in 1969 rules him out of the race. As we all know, Americans like their presidents to be bent, crooked and twisted. My chauffeur, Jim, says that the sitting president commands tremendous power over his party and that it would be unprecedented for the Democrats to discard the president and select some other candidate. However, the word is that Carter now is more unpopular than Nixon was in his final days after Watergate, and that Carter's credibility is nil. We shall see.

My next subject is our dearly beloved prime minister. Isn't she doing well? Tonight she addressed the Lord Mayor of London's banquet and gave a performance almost Churchillian in its stature. Listening to her tonight made me so aware that at last we have a leader. We actually have someone of stature at the helm. Harold Macmillan has likened Thatcher to Queen Elizabeth I.

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Sunday November 11, 1979

_. Remembrance Sunday
    22nd Sunday after Trinity

Spent a long day at Club Street with Ally and Dave the Sailor. I am besotted with Ally's stereo machine. So much so that I now aspire to be a Radio 1 DJ like that great man Tony Blackburn.

Dave is a decent chap, and I do feel very sorry for him because I think he thought his weekend with Ally would follow a different course. After all, we do know what sailors are, don't we? Poor boy. I doubt whether he will be quick to return, even though he has been made very welcome. Ally is of the same opinion.

The spitfire remains incapacitated and so at 7, we happy threesome, took a bus to the White Cross and had fish and chips. By now Dave the Sailor is so subdued I am feeling uneasy. We were so relieved when a bus came at 10 and took him off to Leeds. Saw Ally onto a bus back to Bradford at 10:30 and walked home in the rain. Hilda and Tony are being entertained by Mum and Dad. Uncle Tony is now a Rotarian.

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