Tuesday March 2, 1982

 YP tolerable. It is reported that Kathleen is looking at getting an Irish Wolfhound to help her and her 75 year-old mother recover from the loss of Mr Rainford.

Geoff Hemingway gave me a £10 postal order for tips to the EP over recent months that he says he's overlooked. I can think of none. I drew up the joint family tree of of the Prince and Princess of Wales this morning. It shows their common descent from Henry VII and includes Diana's line from Charles I, Charles II and James II. Prince Charles of course has no lines of descent from those Stuart monarchs. [He is descended only from James VI & I]. I'm tickled pink. It's going to dominate the EP of March 30 when TRH visit St Gemma's and other locations in Leeds. It will be Diana's last big engagement before her accouchement.

Home at 6. We sat and ate coconut and watched Humphrey Bogart [also a distant cousin of the Princess too] in the Maltese Falcon.

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Monday March 1, 1982

 To the YP for 8:30. I put Christopher's birth in the YP and EP announcements for tomorrow. Mum phoned to say that Sue isn't now going to Otley [hospital] until later, and so I went to see her at 2. Bless her, she was all packed like a refugee awaiting the ambulance. Christopher is 'prettier' and less swollen, and certainly 'bouncing'. Sue is totally captivated. The baby looked better in his going out clothes because the nightshirt supplied by Hyde Terrace is a grey, objectionable thing, which made him look like an orphan.  Sue says she hopes that people will call the baby by his full name and not 'Chris'. I fear she's on a loser here. The name, she says, was Peter's choice.

YP dismal. Kathleen was off commemorating the first anniversary of her father's demise. Read with some glee that the Succession Bill of Michael English was put off on Friday when it was opposed by the Tories. It now goes to the bottom of the Bills to be read, and no doubt die the death that Norman St John Stevas predicted.

Home to Ally at 6 in daylight. Chicken broth, dumplings, coffee, TV, books, bath, bed, &c.

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Sunday February 28, 1982

 1st Sunday in Lent

Sunshine. Went to see Susie and our nephew Christopher Paul at 2. We were the only afternoon visitors. Sue looked so proud of the fine Nason specimen. I see what they all mean about the baby resembling Jim. We left Sue cuddling her son at 2. They move on to Otley [hospital] tomorrow.

On to the Gadsby residence. They have made tomato wine. They were all assembled but we didn't dine, because of an impatient chicken waiting at Club St. Karen and Steve want a son called Alexander James. Very grand.

Poor Uncle Tony is now redundant, and was in his vegetable patch playing with his broad beans. I went out to talk to him. The house and garden at St James's Crescent hold such memories for me - every brick, every corner of the garden brings back incidents from my childhood. We left between 6 and 7. The wine clouds my memory.

Chicken at Club St. Mum and Dad went to see Sue and Christopher again, and managed to have a hold of baby.

Saw 'Nancy Astor' again. Horrid. Bed t 10:30 but couldn't sleep. The roast chicken was playing up.

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Saturday February 27, 1982

 Up at 8:30. Peter came to breakfast and gave us the full tale of Sue's long and difficult labour. A Caesarian section had been considered. She had an unpronouceable injection in the spine to numb the pain, and they used a funny vacuum thing to suck the baby out, which left him with a red ring on his poor little head.

I sat with a knotted brow. Dad thinks I'm addicted to paracetamol tablets. He is so eccentric.

Up to the Hermit at Burley Woodhead at 12 with Mum, Dad, Jim, Margaret, Peter. They went to Hyde Terrace at 2-3. Ally and I waited at Pine Tops. The baby is to be called Christopher Paul. He is, they say, the image of his paternal grandfather.

Home to Club Street and slept for a couple of hours before receiving Mum, Dad, Jim and Margaret for drinks and supper. We supped ale, ate salad sandwiches, and watched 'Dallas'. They left at 12.

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Friday February 26, 1982

 Whilst eating our boiled eggs at 7:40 the phone rang. It was Mum saying Susie has been experiencing some pain all night and is beginning labour. I went off to work and was fed with bulletins throughout the day. 'Progressing slowly' in the afternoon, and so it continued throughout the evening. I worked through at lunch and arrived home at 5. 

We had fish and chips, took a bath, packed a suitcase, and went over to Pine Tops for 7. The vigil began. We watched TV with Mum and Dad. Mum phoned the hospital at 7:15 to be told that Sue was in a labour ward. Lynn, Dave and Frances came at 9 and stayed until 12:30. 'Granny' told Frances that she was about to have her 'nose pushed out'.

We phoned John and Maria to congratulate them on their Scottish baby news [due on August 14]. Spoke to Maria first who told us that John was out in the field with his sheep, goats and hens. One hen had apparently gone astray.

Lynn and Dave had only just left at 12:40 when the phoned trilled. Mum took the call. It was Peter. A baby boy was born at 12:24, just into Feb 27, weighing 8lb 14oz. No name has been decided upon as yet. Jim and Margaret arrived bearing the famous Johnnie Walker Red Label whisky, and we wet the baby's head. Jim had always insisted that the bottle of whisky was only to be consumed upon his demise.

 We sat until 4am, and then to bed.

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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.

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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.

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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.

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