Saturday March 27, 1976

Dave L is back in our midst. He took Carole, myself, Sue & Peter up to the Cow & Calf pub this evening after a dead hour in the Hare with only Andy and Linda in attendance. Peter M came in and he accompanied us to the Cow in his own vehicle. The astounding thing about the whole evening was the free juke box!

People were marvelling at Dave's beard. He certainly has given himself a Biblical touch. To a fish & chip shop in Burley-in-Wharfedale where we gorge and feast ourselves in Dave's car. Back to our place for coffee and Mr Lawson took Carole home.

Meanwhile: Earlier that day. Carole and I went to Bradford where she collected my bomber jacket and whilst I was rooting for Mother's Day cards she went and bought me a gold crucifix on a gold chain. I know she likes buying me things, but somehow it gives me a feeling of uneasiness. We didn't argue once - unusual for us when shopping, because Carole is never the same as when she's dragging me round those sweaty, hot department stores.

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Friday March 26, 1976

Just Sarah and I at work until Kathleen's arrival at 2.45. Where the hell Carol J was remains a mystery to us because Sarah knows very well that C was out on the town indulging in a spot of mild adultery in the early hours of this very morning. Naturally, we were bloody busy and the day flew by.

To the Hare & Hounds with Carole tonight. Peter M gave the two of us a lift to our place at 11 o'clock. I'm feeling argumentative - not with Carole though - and I squabble with Dad about politics and taxation until a God forsaken hour. Peter N joins in too. He's stunned at the way his tax has increased this week. Carole says she's never seen me arguing with Papa before. Politics is the only thing we really argue about.

Carole and I sit like love birds until after 2am.

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Thursday March 25, 1976

Carole, Lynn, Dave, Mum, Dad and I go over to see Auntie Mabel for the evening. She's taking Uncle Jack's passing like a brave warrior really and I think she is marvellous.

We all laugh at her old photographs and drink apricot wine, and her home-made peach wine and sherry. David teased her in his usual way. Everyone definately takes to him - I've realised this after knowing him quite well now for two years or so. A pleasant, cheerful character who can get away with 'blue murder' - that's our Dave.

(Michael) Foot won the first Labour leadership ballot. He could well be the first British Prime Minister to be called Michael. However, James Callaghan must not be underestimated. He will not go without a struggle and his wife, Audrey, is at this very moment measuring the bedrooms and No. 10 for new damask curtains because it's common knowledge that the present chintzy drapes have been hanging since Bonar Law's time.

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Wednesday March 24, 1976

Sit in bed reading 'Pearls, Girls and Monty Bodkin' by P.G. Wodehouse and cannot be bothered compiling my diary today, if that's OK with you, mate. However, if you really want filling in on todays events just ring Leeds 32701 and ask for the library and they'll nip up to the archives and take down the old, musty, yellowed file for Jan-Mar 1976 and thumb through the brittle pages until they find March 24. If this doesn't satisfy you can always just pick your nose or read the unexpurgated edition of Princess Margaret's autobiography.

On this latest royal topic (Princess Margaret) I was stunned and surprised yesterday to see a copy of a biography of Princess Margaret on Guiseley Library shelves. 'Noddy' was withdrawn some years ago for being a racist &c, and so I assumed that books about the disgraced princess would have been taken out and burned in the streets. Fortunately, the princess has survived, but my smile fades and I'm saddened to see, on peeping in the volume, that the book hasn't been borrowed since June, 1954.

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Tuesday March 23, 1976

Go to Guiseley Library and enroll once more. I don't think I've been near a library in two years. How I have let my education slip. Why, at one time I could reel off the main achievements of Gladstone's first, second and third ministries, but now I cannot even tell you his christian name. Oh, go on then, it's William Ewart. His foreign policy was always weak, if my memory serves me correctly, and Ireland tended to get him down, but what his achievement were remain blanked from my mind.

Blimey, the sight of all those familiar, ancient library book shelves brought a lump to my throat. Memories of adolescence come flooding back. The days of Anne Greep and Lynn in hysterics; me with grazed knees and only a shadow of the handsome bastard I am in this year of Grace; and many more reflections upon which further deliberation would render this publication unsatisfactory for family reading. I take out a couple of P.G. Wodehouse novels and also collected some for Mum. She likes a good book at bedtime too.

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Monday March 22, 1976

It is rumoured that Uncle Harold (Wilson) will receive the Garter when he steps down from the premiership in two weeks time. The 'customary' earldom will not be accepted by the dear old thing because he's intending to carry on as an MP on the back benches.

I place customary in inverted commas because the Press always assumes that the Queen always offers an earldom to an outgoing Prime Minister at their final weekly tete a tete. This is not so. Church declined a dukedom but took the Garter, whilst Eden took the Garter plus the earldom. Macmillan refused all honours in 1963, and Home did 10 years in the Commons after his stint in No. 10. The old boy did return to the Lords as a cheap life peer a couple of years ago. Heath, I feel sure, won't have been offered anything because his relationship with Our Gracious Sovereign Lady was not a happy one - again, that is if the Press is to be believed. What is more, the circumstances of Heath's departure from that high office cannot have pleased Her Majesty.

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Sunday March 21, 1976

3rd in Lent. The clocks were altered again early this morning and so we all lost an hour in bed and I emerged at about 11.30, I think. Throwing back the curtains I received a shock indeed. Snow is coming down by the bucket full and a massive white mass is the only thing to confront ones eye-balls. Yes, it is the first day of Spring.

Dave, Pete and John all exchanged cars this morning. John sold his spitfire to David and David sold his 'Baker Mobile' to Peter - who has yet to take driving lessons, but hopes to start shortly. I feel so sorry for John, who is now carless.

After piles of porridge and greasy bacon and fried sausage I look at the Sunday papers. The Queen and Princess Margaret had a meeting at Royal Lodge yesterday to discuss the separation. Who'd have believed it? And who is willing to bet that within the next three or four years we will be reading of 'The Princess Margaret, Mrs Roderic Llewellyn' in the Court Circular? But to be serious, the whole thing is a great tragedy especially for the poor Queen who has dedicated her whole life to building the House of Windsor into a secure dynasty only to have her 25 years on the throne marred by her sisters marital problems.

All afternoon and until 11 o'clock tonight Carole and I sort out Mum's photo collection and re-bind the lot. Exhausted ans short tempered by the end of it.

David takes Carole home in the spitfire. I come to bed and mess around looking for something to read. The library days seem so long ago.

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