Thursday February 25, 1982

 Received a letter from Norman St John Stevas, MP, who wants to 'put my mind at rest' on the subject of Michael English's succession bill. He says it is very unlikely to make further progress. Sigh with relief at this. You can always rely on the good old Tories to stand in the way of change. If I had my way I wouldn't ever change anything again, except perhaps for underpants. 

Pay day. went to Boots with Sarah to act as adviser as she bought a three week white wine pack. I am something of a Baron de Rothschild when it comes to wine making. Back later to the gloom of the YP. 

I couldn't see Susie today because they clean the wards at Hyde Terrace. It's ridiculous really because this swabbing of the hospital wards takes about 10 minutes.

Home at 6. We made a weekly pilgrimage to Morrison's. Home in time to see Top of the Pops, which we watched while eating cheese toasties and soup on trays. 

Ally had two fillings at the dentist this afternoon, and I bought her a Cadbury's Creme Egg as a tooth token.

We went to bed after listening to Sir Robin Day and his ridiculous panel. Will perhaps William Waldegrave one day be our prime minister?

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Wednesday February 24, 1982

 Ash Wednesday

Frosty. I forgot to put a blanket on the car last night. I was overcome with grief at the sight of a white, shrouded Audrey. Ally and I had boiled eggs and biscuits. We are off bread as part of the 'Get Michael Slim' campaign. Long and lingering kisses. We want to do something for our wedding anniversary weekend. Perhaps a few days in Northumberland?

Auntie Elsie.

YP: Carolyn Pride, who shared a London flat with the Princess of Wales when she was just Lady Di, has become engaged to a William Bartholomew, who I have found is a sixth cousin once removed of HRH. Both he and the princess have a common ancestor in Stephen Poyntz, MP, an eighteenth century Berkshire landowner. Thrilling, eh?

Geoff Hemingway has asked me to do a family tree for the EP of March 30 when we are planning on going bananas for the P of W's visit to Leeds which will be Diana's last northern engagement before her confinement. Geoff says Malcolm [Barker] will have to give me the go ahead at tomorrow's conference but sees no problem. 

Sunny afternoon. Walked up to see Sue at Hyde Terrace. She says she so misses the fresh air of outdoors after weeks of antiseptic and disinfectant. A friend from Wendy Wools arrived at 2:30 with a blond baby called Trevor - poor thing. Mum phoned at 3:30.

Home at 6. The Yorkshire puddings collapsed. Coronation Street. Watched the dismal news. We decide that Dame Judith Hart looks very much like Ally's Auntie Elsie. We laughed about this.

Do people stop smoking on Ash Wednesday?

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Tuesday February 23, 1982

 Shrove Tuesday. New Moon

On the bus this morning the piped music [which they play to the occupants of the upper deck] went berserk and the song stuck on repeat for one sentence for the duration of the journey. It had a disturbing effect on my fellow passengers. Old ladies got off the bus at Stanningley clinging to each other like automatons. A leather clad man, with violet hair, his jacket covered in pins and paint, got off the bus shouting, and looking for someone to mug. Eventually the repetetive noise so upset the Bengal bus driver that he abandoned the vehicle on Armley Road and sent for another one. 

At the YP I tore newspaper to shreds for 8 hours. Went to see Susie [no change]. A family gathering around the bed with Frances snatching the limelight.

Home at 5:30 to pancakes. A stodgy tea. I have a letter from Downing Street from a B.A. Cross. It reads: 'Dear Mr Rhodes, The Prime Minister has asked me to thank you for your recent letter setting out your views. They have been noted.' Obviously a standard answer to the 48 million letters that the PM receives on a daily basis. At least I've written and got it off my chest.

Mum and Dad came at 8 for a few drinks. Dad went up to the bathroom and mended a temperamental light switch. Watched TV. Roy Plomley talking about his 'Desert Island Discs' now in its 40th year. They left at 11.

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Monday February 22, 1982

 Up at 7 completely recovered from my attack of dog-itis. 

YP not up to much. Unspeakable in fact. Mrs Slocombe fancies herself as Margaret, Duchess of Argyll or maybe the Begum Aga Khan. It is nauseating to see her gliding around the building.

Home for 5:30. A marvellous letter awaits me from John Stokes, MP. It reads: 'Dear Mr Rhodes, thank you very much indeed for your magnificent letter. It is letters of support such as yours that make it so worthwhile to be in public life. With all good wishes, yours sincerely, John Stokes.' I am bowled over by Mr Stokes's letter. It's not as though he is being sycophantic to one of his constituents and was under no compulsion to be quite so nice.

A lamb concoction with stuffed peppers and tomatoes. Ally points out 'it is breast of lamb'. She is currently sitting buried behind The Times [yes, it's still with us] scrolling through the secretarial jobs in London. 'Look at this one', she exclaims, 'you get £7,000 a year, and a car.' Is she thinking of leaving me, perhaps? 'No. You are worth more than that', came the reply.

To bed not long after Coronation Street.

-=-

Sunday February 21, 1982

 Quinquagesima

Woke at 8:30 and took a couple of pills. Felt frozen as if my stomach was full of ice. Ally was frosty too at first, but thawed after breakfast.

Breakfast went on indefinitely and we sat having a heart to heart until well after noon. It was too late cook lamb and so at 5 we had soup, grilled steak, chips, salad, &c. Another delightful nosh.

Watched John Mills in 'The Colditz Story'. I suppose it's a birthday tribute to the old boy. He is 74 or 75 today.

Out at 7:30 to Dave L's at Guiseley [he phoned at 6:30 yesterday]. We helped him make lemon wine and then watched 'Flash Gordon' on his new video machine, and then three episodes of 'Top of the Pops'. A pleasant evening but spoiled slightly by my allergy to Rowan, the Gordon Setter. A splendid dog. Mrs L had left us a marvellous supply of sandwiches and throughout the film Dave provided apricot wine, Bailey's Irish Cream, and banana milk shakes. We left at 11:30 promising to return next week with our wedding film.

-=-

Saturday February 20, 1982

 Sunny ansd bright. Masses of crumpets at breakfast time. Out at 12:30 to Bramley cemetery where we found John Rhodes's grave. After years of searching I have finally made contact with great-grandpapa. It was biting cold and so we didn't linger at the cemetery. We went to Hyde Terrace at 2 after looking at the antique shops on Burley Road and we found Susie looking well and glamorous. Lynn, Dave and Frances came too and we sat on the bed making noises at the baby, red faced and cheeky. Susie's teeth are shining bright and she told us that she cleans then eight times a day! She says Pete is now leaning towards Claire for a girl. She seems to think that the little beggar is female.

On to Thackley with Lynn, Dave and a snoozing Frances to Cheap 'n Cheerful. Not very good this week as most of the decent stuff has been sold. Lynn took a fancy to a wash stand but Dave wasn't enthusiastic. Back to Ash Tree Cottage for a quick change, &c. Out at 7:30 to see Dave Porritt about the wedding video. Then on to the Commercial [at Esholt] at 8 to join Lynn and Dave in the bar. Dave and Elaine Allinson came in until 11. As usual Elaine dominated the goings on and talked about everything from sex to sex. Lynn looked embarrassed. The booze flowed and we endured tales of Elaine's sexual antics and debated whether her 10 year-old daughter Samantha was about to menstruate for the first time. A dull looking couple on the next table sat spell-bound listening to tales of hanky panky from Rawdon to Menorca. My trousers saw fit to burst open [the fly is knackered] and I spent some time with a safety pin fumbling in the darkness of the gents toilet. 

To the Allinsons at Over Lane, Rawdon at 11 for corned beef sandwiches and more booze. I put back a quantity of Scotch and clowned around wrapping everyone in toilet paper. My recollections of the latter part of the evening are lost forever in the mists of oblivion. Ally was appalled at my behaviour and brought me home at 2am. I vomited in the garden and again later in the bath. I am a revolting and disgusting specimen.

-=-

Friday February 19, 1982

 Cold and wet. Prince Andrew celebrates his twenty second birthday today on the high seas. The Union flag at the YP hung limp and wet. Let us hope that HRH is not similarly displayed.

Mum phoned to say that she and Papa are visiting Sue this lunchtime and so I decided not to go. Besides, it was raining, and the walk to Hyde Terrace holds no excitement.

News: The Times newspaper is knackered. Rupert Murdoch [a Jim Rawnsley look-alike] has tired of his ownership of England's greatest newspaper and has asked for 600 redundancies. Obviously, the [trade] unions are not too happy about this.

The future Marquess of Abergavenny, Guy Nevill, aged 35, has married Lady Beatrix Lambton, 32, daughter of the reprobate and lecher Antony Lambton, who disclaimed the earldom of Durham in 1970.

Home at 6:15 frozen solid. Ally, a vision in red, was waiting for my arrival. We ate avocado and prawns, homemade tomato soup, and lasagne, followed by chocolate 'Angel Delight'. Oh, then cheese and biscuits. A splendid and luxurious dinner. 

Watched some TV. Ally finished 'Woman in White' by Wilkie Collins. Splashed in the bath [together] and to bed.

-=-