Monday February 23, 1976

To Leeds with Jim Rawnsley and we have to endure the boring procrastinations of Donald Best, Esq, the local magistrate & do-gooder. With him in the car it's always a pleasure to get out after the 25 minute journey.

See in the Sunday People, or News of the World - I can't remember which - that Princess Margaret is holidaying in Mustique with Roddy Llewellyn, who can, I think, now be regarded as her lover. I found the article disturbing, especially because it was illustrated by seductive pictures of HRH on a sun scorched beach with her arms clasped firmly round the 27 year-old waist of Mr Llewellyn, the 'ear-ringed' fair-haired son of Colonel Harry Llewellyn, the showjumper. This romance may well develop into something big and if (Lord) Snowdon doesn't watch out he could find himself without a studio at Kensington Palace and a bed for that matter because the princess does appear to be enraptured with Roddy. Could the nation tolerate the monarch's sister in the divorce courts? Watch this space.

A busy day without Kathleen who never works Mondays, and Carol J who has the 'flu. The painter L.S. Lowry died today, and so too did Angela Baddeley, the actress. Other items in the news include several government resignations over the Chancellor's public expenditure cuts, and it looks as though Harold's second anniversary in No. 10 is going to be a stormy one. Will Margaret Thatcher be Prime Minister? Are we going to see a Tory government this year? Will Rod Stewart marry Britt Ekland? Oh, the excitement of it all is too much.

John and Maria go see Delia Collis tonight about the flowers for the wedding. I watched TV with Mum, Dad, Lynn, Sue & Peter. Carole didn't ring because I rang her this morning to tell her that one of the 'Supremes' (an ancient band of Negro singers), has died at the grand old age of 32. Other than this, I can report little else until tomorrow and so it leaves me only to say 'Goodnight'.

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Sunday February 22, 1976

Sex(agesima). Sit on the settee with Carole until after 4 o'clock this morning. The sun was creeping over Otley Chevin by the time I hit the sack, and I didn't feel at all tired. Carole is a darling. She maybe backward and dull-witted, but gorgeous all the same. Our only problem is one of communication really. Sometimes we get on like a barn on fire, but on other occasions I feel as though I'm banging my head against a barn wall because she just doesn't understand a word I say. I had the same feelings of frustration last year in Majorca when a German girl couldn't understand that I wanted to dance with her. However, I hasten to add, I am not serious in any way and I could never make her my wife or 'constant companion'. I'll be battling on in a single capacity when Carole is the proud grandmother of scores of children.

Up at lunchtime and the two of us go for a bracing walk down through Esholt Woods and round to Silverdale to see John & Maria's house again. (PS - I went to look at the house yesterday afternoon with Lynn & Dave, and we had a coffee with Bessie Little and Stuart.) Carole was startled by the smallness of the place and likened it to Paul's rabbit hutch. Modern houses do look small when compared with Pine Tops Palace.

Back to our place at 3 o'clock and Mum, Lynn and Sue depart for the Macdonald residence where they remain until evening.

Just Carole and I left and we watch a bit of TV. Arthur Negus in 'Going For A Song' -and then played records until 7 o'clock.

Had tea with Dad - just the three of us. He is baffled by her ignorance. I've come to the conclusion that nobody can hold a conversation with her.

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Friday February 20, 1976

To York in (a) mini bus with Carole, Lynn, David, Sue, Peter, Christine, Chris, Peter M, Andy & Linda. We left the Hare & Hounds at about 8 o'clock and got to York in just over an hour. We all sat joking and singing in the rear.

Christine and Stuart met us near Bishopthorpe and gave us an escort to Brummels. It is my first visit to the renowned disco, Yorkshire's so-called answer to Annabel's in Mayfair. It isn't at all what I expected and is quite tatty really.

Had a great time, but CB kept insisting Carole and I were not getting along as well as we might be, which was annoying because everything was perfectly happy between us tonight. As usual, I had one over the eighteen.

Christine and Stuart are of course engaged now but I don't think they quite have the right idea. _______________________.

Home on the bus at 2.15. We're all pissed. Peter M says Linda is a "Fanny Cradock extraordinaire" and refers to Andy as "Pansy Potter" much to the screams of laughter from the other occupants of the bus.

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Thursday February 19, 1976

An evening at the home of Miss Carole Phillips. Because of the expense involved in tomorrows excursion to the northern capital we, that is Miss Phillips and I, decided that it would be unwise to endulge in social gaity on this Thursday evening.

Have I mentioned already that Lord Snowdon's girlfriend, Lady Jacqueline Rufus-Isaacs, is to be married shortly?

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Wednesday February 18, 1976

Old Princess Alice, Countess of Athlone is 93 next week and I'm hoping she'll last out until June next year because if she does she'll be the oldest living member of the British Royal Family. I think I'm right in saying that Princess Alice is the only surviving holder of the VA (the Order of Victoria & Albert) which hasn't been conferred since Queen Victoria passed over.

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Tuesday February 17, 1976

A wet damp day again. Carole goes to hospital for a check-up on her kidneys this morning and we meet in Leeds at 1 o'clock again. These ventures out a lunchtimes are rare, and it's weird going out two days in a row!

Things in the news: Angola, Angola and Angola. All we hear about on the TV news and in the newspapers is of the struggles going on in this futile African country where Cubans, Russians and ex-convict British mercenaries are killing each other for a piece of territory that's about as big as Wembley stadium. It doesn't make much sense to me and I think most people are confused by it all too. Ian Smith won't be too happy about it in neighbouring Rhodesia and bloody revolution will undoubtedly follow in that fascist colony now.

See in the EP that Basil Hume, Abbot of Ampleforth is the new Archbishop of Westminster and the next (only) English cardinal. As head of the Roman Catholics in England he'll conduct important ceremonies like, for instance, the marriage of Mr John Philip Rhodes with Miss Maria Christine Macdonald next month.

Carole rings tonight and so too does Christine White just to make sure we know the arrangements for Friday nights excursion to York. Carole's communication was just a gosspipy one. She has a way of aggravating me on the phone (don't ask me why) and I much prefer to speak to her in the flesh. She did say that she will not go for a hospital check-up again and nothing I say will deter her from this point of view. However, the gruesome activities they get up to with her blood samples made me feel sick just hearing about them.

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Monday February 16, 1976

Bitter cold day but sunny all the same. At work by 8.30 and manage to finish everything by about 1 o'clock. Carole rang me at 11.15 and asked if I want to meet her in town for lunch. We meet at one on Commercial Street and buy a few bags of crisps and I have a tongue sandwich from Lewis's, and we go sit in the part near the church opposite the Merrion Centre. We laugh and throw food for the pigeons and clown around like eight year-olds. I have to be back at work at about 2pm and she has to meet the Dowager Lady Phillips at C & A - who is suddenly conversing with her daughter again after what seems like weeks of silence and animosity. I bump into Auntie Eleanor and cousin Jackie whilst leaving C & A. Auntie was her usual sarcastic self and Jackie tells me she's to be a bridesmaid for a friend of hers on March 13. ________________.

Home at 5.20 and tell Mum about my meeting. Weddings appear to be at the bottom of most family disputes & squabbles and I think that when my turn comes along, if ever, I'll run away to Gretna Green and have it done with little ceremony and with no aunts or uncles to be seen anywhere.

Have salad for tea and leap into the bath. John rushes off to decorate a bedroom at the Macdonald seat & I marvel at his vitality. Since the day his intended marriage was made public he's gone completely scatty. Out every night visiting priests and painting bedroom ceilings in nice pale yellow for the little bundle of joy expected in September. I'm glad I'm not in his shoes. Fatherhood is all very well, but I'd like to be grey and smoking a pipe by then.

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