Sunday February 29, 1976

Quinquagesima. It's the first time that February 29 has fallen on a Sunday since 1948, and it won't fall again on the Sabbath until 2004. Aren't I a walking encyclopaedia then? If you think I'm going to divulge just where I found this item of information you'll have one Hell of a wait because I'm not going to tell you until 2004. See you all then.

A nice day and John and I go for a drive in the spitfire with the roof off to Burley-in-Wharfedale. We get Mum a plant from a garden centre and heading home for lunch we see Carole at the bus stop waiting for the bus to come up to ours. John goes down to pick her up whilst I have lunch and she sits in the dining room with great expectations of going for a walk afterwards. Maria comes round with Prinny (spaniel) and she chats with Mum about the flowers. I can't believe my eyes when I look at Maria. She's getting enormous, and the heir to the Rhodes Empire isn't due until September.

Carole and I walk round Tranmere and call on Molly. She talks for hours and we don't get out until after 4 when it starts to rain.

Dad and John are decorating Maria's bedroom and I almost feel sorry for them both as they peep at us from the Georgian-style windows of 14, Ridgeway.

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Saturday February 28, 1976

Chris, Christine, Carole and I go up to the Yorkshire Dales for a drink tonight. He takes me to Carole's at 8pm and I wait with Lord & Lady Phillips while she gets ready. We are all off and in the direction of Grassington by 8.30 and we certainly make a funny foursome. Christine and I laugh at the usual crude things much to Chris's embarrassment. Carole never notices the vulgar trend in the conversation and she shuts herself away in that lonely little world of hers. I am stunned when she tells me she's never been to Grassington before. Oh, when she saw the old fashioned hand-pumps in the Devonshire (Arms) she thought they were a new invention! Benenden must have become a really slack school since Princess Anne left. Lord Phillips should perhaps have sent little Caroline to a state school where she might have had more experience of beer dispensing equipment. We have scampi and chips at the Devonshire and leave at about 11 o'clock for home. Carole feels sick on the way. She isn't a good traveller really. She should have reminded me of this malady because we needn't have ventured so far into the hills.

We have a serious chat in the car coming home, the four of us that is, and the usual topical things were discussed, i.e. euthenasia and abortion, &c. Chris and I are always on the verge of coming to blows and long painful silences inevitably follow. He tells me that he's seen in tonight's EP that Princess Anne is pregnant. I do not believe it. My old Olympic theory will be correct and she will not be pregnant before September at least.

Home at 12.30.


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Friday February 27, 1976

A night at the Hare & Hounds. Carole does her hair curly again - like it was last summer - and the sight of her peeping over the top of her lemonade glass, with ringlets and sparkling eyes, gives her a Shirley Temple quality which is very rare these days. _______. A depressed, hysterical old bag is now a happy, skipping, bubbling wench again. O the beauty that is innocence!

Maria and John came down and so too did Peter M, who is reassured that I still want to go on holiday. I say all is fine, except for the money, and he offers to lend me some. A good lad is Peter.

John almost got into a fight with a little swine who upset Maria. She'd never even laid eyes on him before and he went on and on about her being pregnant. John asked him to aplogise but he wouldn't, and so J stormed away leaving the little bugger staring at him, flexing his muscles.

I see Daryl Wills, the EP reporter, and sort something out about getting John & Maria's wedding on the front page.

Carole and I walk home and once again we're up until 4am playing at Romeo & Juliet.

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Thursday February 26, 1976

It's finally made it to the Press here in Britain about Princess Margaret and her 'courtier' friend Roderick (sic) Llewellyn. The newspapers say this morning that the Queen held a family meeting at Windsor on Sunday to discuss her sister's affair. It is understood that Lord Snowdon wants a divorce. The Queen is reported to be not in favour of divorce, but that she thinks the couple should seperate. The Duke of Edinburgh is reported to favour divorce, but I can't see anything coming of this. The princess has always led a wayward life.

Carole and I go to the Hare & Hounds and sit in the tap room for an hour or so. At about 10 the barmaid says that someone is asking for me in the lounge and we go through to find Mum & Dad having a drink. We join them for half an hour and I then get a lift home. Mum and Carole were chatting about wedding outfits again and I could see Dad looking sheepishly at me through the bottom of his beer glass. He'll be relieved when the wedding is over because anything that creates such excitement just isn't good for him.

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Wednesday February 25, 1976

I'm in no writing mood today so I'll bid you all adieu for the time being.

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Tuesday February 24, 1976

Home at about 5 o'clock to find Uncle Peter and family swilling tea with Mum & Dad. The reason for the visit is to return John's wedding invitation which they have gladly accepted of course. Uncle Peter is always an asset at a wedding because he's the life & soul of the party. He was near the hysterics about Mum thinking it was Shrove Tuesday. I was forced to eat pancakes - out of season - but managed to devour 15 or 16 at least. Yes, I am a pig if that's what you're wondering.

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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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