Monday November 15, 1976

Not an unpleasant day at the YP but nothing of particular interest to say. The Sunday Mirror yesterday says that the Prince of Wales is going to marry Princess Marie-Astrid of Luxembourg, daughter of the Grand Duke. Oh yes? The Queen paid a state visit to Luxembourg last week. And I suppose the state visit of President Giscard d'Estaing in June was to fix up Prince Andrew with Mlle. Giscard? And how about the state visit to the USA in July? No doubt Julie Nixon Eisenhower and Prince Michael of Kent are secretly betrothed. The Queen Mother was in France last week. Does President De Gaulle have a bachelor brother?

Lynne rings at 5.35pm and I invite her to come up to Pine Tops after her Spanish lessons are over. Later, a historic occasion indeed. The Royal Variety Performance LIVE on the BBC for the first time. The Queen Mother was there - she must have found time to snatch herself away from the attentions of King Olav of Norway. It was a boring performance only made bearable by Mike Yarwood, fish and chips, and a couple of bottles of ale. Otherwise it was a flop. The poor Queen Mother looked older.

Bed at 11.30 with Frances Donaldson's 'Edward VIII'.

-==-

Sunday November 14, 1976

Wake up at noon feeling quite refreshed really. No ill effects at all. However, Mum and Dad cannot make a similar boast. They were at the Grunwell's residence at Castleford from 9 o'clock last night until 6.35am. Mum is in bed clutching her head.

The Prince of Wales is 28 today and of course it's the Cenotaph Day and the third wedding anniversary of Princess Anne and her 'impotent stable boy'.

Dave L.

Denise didn't arrive. What can have befallen her? Watch the film 'Murder Ahoy' on the BBC until after 5 o'clock and then after tea Dave L makes a surprise visit. I didn't even know he was home. He's going for his hospital check-up tomorrow. The two of us go down to John and Maria's where he sees the baby for the first time. Molly and Jim follow us in quick succession and the two of us make a quick exit at 8 o'clock. Just as Dave drops me off Tony arrives. We go to the Hare & Hounds, the Station on Henshaws Lane, the two pubs at Pool [in Wharfedale] the White Hart and the Half Moon, the Scotts Arms at Sicklinghall and then back to the Half Moon - having a half pint in each tavern. They only familiar faces we spotted were Andy and Linda at the Station. Fish and chips in Otley and then home for 11.30 to hear that Chris and Pete had been looking for me.

-==-

Saturday November 13, 1976

Miss Mandy Phillips

Oh God. What a hangover. Tony's on the phone at 10am and wakes me. Says he's coming over later. I stagger about the house doing my best to make myself look normal when John, Maria and John Jun arrived at 12.30. The infant is growing more beautiful every day and is much stronger. He's smiling more as well. Tony comes at 1 o'clock and he takes me down to Bradford in the car. I'm feeling really ill. We go through a car wash and in order to cheer me up he tapes the proceedings. Yes, we are raving lunatics. Go into WH [Smiths] and see Denise for the first time in months. She promises to come up tomorrow. She and Tony didn't seem at all antagonistic towards each other. Back home at 3. I nursed the baby for an hour or so until I began to feel better. Ring Lynne and speak to Peter M too. Martyn rings me and we arrange tonight's session.

To Ilkley with Tony at 8.30. Collect Martyn and then Stuart. Up to the Craven Heifer [Addingham] and then on to Bingley where we pick up a couple of girls. Miss Mandy Phillips, of Thornbury, Pudsey, and another girl, Margaret, whom we decide to call Heidi because of her Tyrolean dress. On to Oakwood Hall where more pilage, plunder and rape took place. Didn't get in the state I was in last night however. Back home to Pine Tops at 2.30 and entertained the lads for more than an hour. Laughed like Hell at the 'Excuse me, Miss' track on the Monty Python [Live at Drury Lane] LP. It really does work wonders. Bed after cheese on toast. Goodnight.

-==-

Friday November 12, 1976

Leave [the YP] at 12 o'clock. It's been a bloody long week. Get my hair cut and emerge after 30 minutes with the shortest style I've had so far. You can see my ears.

Take the coffee perculator back to Schofield's with its guarantee in the hope that they'll replace it. Dad cracked it when decorating the kitchen. I bought Frankie Howerd's autobiography for Mum. She adores him and last night was moaning about the lack of attention she's been getting lately. Like a spoilt child she is. I also bought a bright red crew neck sweater for myself in Mark's and Spencer. Home at 2 o'clock. Dad is on the garage roof working wonders with a bucket of cement. I gave Mum her new book at tea time and it was warmly received.

Out to the Hare with Lynne at 8 o'clock. Joined by Chris, Peter M, Laura [Butchart] and Dave [Paterson]. I drifted over to have a word with Simon and Val. [You know Simon, he's with Denise at Smiths]. Have quite a good laugh too. Martyn arrived later on. Peter, Martyn, Chris and I went to to the Stoney Lea until 2am. Got completely intoxicated and remember nothing of the journey home. A complete blank.


-==-

Thursday November 11, 1976

VERY FOGGY. It makes a change anyway. Lynne comes up for tea and we watch 'Top of the Pops' with Mama. Dad is snoring his head off in the background.

Photos came back today of baby JPH when he was three weeks old.

Do I have to mention the fact that it's Armistice Day? Poppies and all that? I think you've heard enough about this down the years without me harping on about the Somme and Great-Uncle Hubert giving his life, &c &c.

[Great-Uncle Hubert is of course a figment of my imagination].

-==-

Wednesday November 10, 1976

Down to the Hare with Tony. Joined by Judith and Kathryn and 'Alan', Judith's paramour, a revolting young man with funny eyes. However, who am I to question the weird ways of true love? I can be far too critical at times.

CB is in with her revolting young man too. She's been a little cool since she formed this recent relationship and it's obvious to me that he doesn't like me one bit. However, I'm not going to worry.

Read 'Edward VIII' by Frances Donaldson. My great admiration for him has waned over the years. In 1972, at the time of his death, I thought he had been terribly wronged. But now I don't know. A king cannot allow his personal feelings to govern his actions. But all the same, he should have kicked Baldwin in the bollocks.

-==-

Tuesday November 9, 1976

Not a particularly historic day by any means. Not a particularly energetic one either and if you think I'm going downstairs for a bottle of ink you've got another thing coming. [The fountain pen dried up after 'by any means' and the rest was completed in biro].

Ring Tony at 7.30. He isn't in. He rings me 10 minutes later and we chat about nothing of importance. He's found a new love by the name of Deborah or something. He's coming up here tomorrow night.

No contact with Lynne today. Don't worry though, we're still very good friends. Write to Glen in Stockport and assure him that he and Dave Glynn can come here any time. Next weekend may be a good idea. We shall see anyway.

Read 'Edward VIII' by Lady Donaldson tonight. How many books dedicated to him have I read? Each one alters my opinion. No doubt about it he was an extremely complex fellow. Freda Dudley Ward played a bigger part in his life than I thought.

Bed at 11.15. Having a half day on Friday to getmy hair cut. Weekend without Lynne. No doubt this will signify a night of debauchery at the Stoney Lea.

-==-

Monday November 8, 1976

Boring, miserable day. I am pleased to be able to say that the government may have to go. The pound is now worth two pesetas and even as I write, it is falling to one and a half. It seems to me that each time our beloved Chancellor of the Exchequer farts the whole economy quivers and slides a little more into the abyss of Hell and Damnation. Margaret Thatcher must be out of her mind wanting to take on this country in its present condition. The Queen, very wisely, has escaped from this ruined nation to Luxembourg. I could quite understand Her Majesty if she decided not to bother coming back. She cannot be all that proud being sovereign of such a third rate nation. Our bloody economy is about equal to that of Namibia.

Lynne comes up at 8 with my wallet and pair of shoes. She only stays minutes because Lil will have her tea on the table.

Read 'Edward VIII' by Lady [Frances] Donaldson. As you are no doubt well aware by now he [the king] is one of my favourite historical characters. I cannot understand the guy at all. Is this why I am forever reading about him?

PS - don't think I'm looking for sympathy but I have a ghastly hangover all day. The wine, you know.

-==-

Sunday November 7, 1976

21st after Trinity. Straight to Sarah's residence at 12.30. Don't propose to go into great detail but if I mention Rolls Royces, caviare, Delia, wine, &c, &c, you'll know what I mean. A brilliant occasion somewhat reminiscent of those grand Edwardian days which expired in August, 1914 when Europe erupted in the holocaust of World War. Wonderful, truly wonderful. [The whole thing was captured on photograph and so if you want to study the event in pictures don't hesitate to take down one of my old albums, will you?]. Lynne, Sarah, Peter B and I did most of the washing up and then staggered to the Fox & Hounds at Bramhope. Peter and Sarah both made comment on the quantity of alcoholic liquid refreshment consumed by my good self, and when I looked in Lynne's direction for some support to my horror I found that she agreed with them. They're quite right, I do suppose. Home at 10.30 with a thumping head. What a day! Lynne disappears in the general direction of Roundhay and I collapse into my bed.

--==-

Saturday November 6, 1976

More tales of the lives of everyday country folk at Thornton-le-Dale. Up at lunchtime and get under the feet of Mr Mather and Pete as they demolish a wardrobe, or something. They push me into the lounge where I watch Tallulah Bankhead in an episode of 'Batman'. Hasn't she been dead for eight or nine years?

Eventually Lynne gets up and when she is ready the two of us go to Pickering [or perhaps Malton?] for a couple of hours. Pouring rain. Have a pint in a grotty pub and purchase a £2 box of chocolates for Sarah's birthday. Back home for tea. We prepare to go out, and Peter tags along and the three of us go to the nice pub with the juke box. [Am I not a vague old sod?] Back home with Peter at 11pm, and after dumping him Lynne and I go to the Bali Hai at Scarborough. A great time. Good music. Lynne always seems surprised when I get up and dance. Why is this? Am I considered to be some sort of cretin? Who has been spreading malicious rumours about my capabilities?

-==-

Friday November 5, 1976

A perishing cold day. Drive with Lynne to Thornton-le-Dale and at 8 o'clock we go with Mr & Mrs Mather and Karl to Scarborough in the hope of getting a glimpse of some beach bonfires & fireworks, &c. No such bloody luck. We are too late. After Donald, Vera, Lynne, Karl [for it is they] ate ice-cream whilst I supped a can of shandy we all departed to a remote mountain not far from Scarborough where Karl was let loose with his fireworks. Unimpressive things they are too. All Lynne can do is moan about the [cold] weather. I laugh at the sight of her stood wrapped in a one of the tartan car blankets. Mrs M is frozen solid too. After 10 minutes we depart for Thornton-le-D once more. Lynne complains about being tired again. My God she is only 19! Mrs M insists that Lynne is always tired because of the constant gas leak in her office. We laugh.

-==-