Friday March 12, 1982

 Stubbornly refused to climb out of bed until the very last moment. Felt slightly rough after Mary's ridiculously extravagent measures of whisky. We were lectured on race relations last night. We were told that the Indians and Pakistanis are a far superior race to the rebellious West Indian and Caribbean types. The latter, we were told by the mindless ladies, all carry enormous chips upon their shoulders, and will never let us forget that they were once enslaved. The recent Toxteth rioters were not the turban-wearing types.

Ally and I are disgustingly boring this evening. Spaghetti for dinner [very unsubstantial]. We sat snuggled together until 9 o'clock when the ice skating championships from Copenhagen drove us upstairs to bed.

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Thursday March 11, 1982

 I spent the day at the YP dwelling on Knights of the Garter and various statistics. I have discovered that since her accession to the throne the Queen has appointed no fewer than thirty eight knights companion. Her first appointment was Sir Winston Churchill in 1953. Twenty eight KGs were peers at the time of their creation and two [Avon and Slim] were ennobled later. Of all the 38 knights only one was unmarried [Amory], and surprisingly, two [the Earls of Avon and Radnor] were divorced, and re-married. This means that Earl Spencer isn't barred from the order as I surmised yesterday. The average age at the time of their appointment is 66, and of the 38 the youngest to be appointed was the 10th Duke of Northumberland, aged 45 at his elevation in 1959. The oldest gent to collect his KG from the Queen was the late Earl of Iveagh, aged 81 in 1955. The first life peer was Lord Casey [1969], and the only former prime minister now honoured is Sir Harold Wilson [1976]. Alec Home is a Knight of the Thistle. When are we going to see a black KG? Lord Chitnis, a Paki life peer, does good work for the Rowntree Tust. Is he a possibility? Perhaps too controversial, and the Queen doesn't do controversy. there are no non-royal women KGs. Ladies of the Garter to date are the Queen Mother, Princess Juliana of the Netherlands and the Queen of Denmark. When are we to have female knights companion? When Mrs Thatcher retires as PM in 1995, after three terms of continuous office, will HM give her the Garter? How would she be styled? 'Lady Margaret Thatcher, KG', or 'Margaret, Lady Thatcher, KG'? I shall have to consult Sir Anthony Wagner on this. Interesting, eh?

Home at 6. Over to see Mary [Moore] at 7:30. Sat with an enormous whisky until after 12. A pair of mindless and nauseating females joined us, putting me into a long silence. I cannot abide silly, giggly women. Mary is far superior, intellectually. Thank God for Ally's brains and good sense.

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Wednesday March 10, 1982

 The deaths of two former chancellors of the exchequer, Amory and Butler, create two vacancies among the Knights Companion of the Order of the Garter. Will Her Majesty fill these vacancies on St George's Day? It is a great pity that Harold Macmillan never accepted. Edward Heath is out of the running, and so is [James] Callaghan. Lord Spencer would have been a candidate had he not divorced his first wife, and it's a little too early for Roy Jenkins. I'm backing the Master of the Horse, Lord Westmorland, and Cliff Richard.

Prince Edward is 18 today and the prospect of seeing him Duke of Cambridge or Sussex is a little gloomy. Gloomy for the present anyway. They are going to have to give him something before he finds a bride because what will we call her if not? Princess Edward, yes, but Princess Edward of where? The future bride requires a territorial designation.

Phoned Dave L tonight. It's been ages since we communicated. Ally sat writing and injecting some conversational note into my telephone banter. I filled Dave in on the baby Nason saga, and we arranged to go out for drinks on April 3, to celebrate my birthday. To bed, not too late.

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Tuesday March 9, 1982

 Budget Day. A mild one, that is the budget, not the day. Rain.

Lord Butler of Saffron Walden, KG, died yesterday. He was perhaps the greatest post-war chancellor, who should have been prime minister.

Out at 6:30 to Guiseley for fish and chips with Sue & Peter. Christopher had slept for most of the night. Sue looks so content now. Peter bounced his son around and wore that proud expression that only new fathers have. Peter clutched his baby. I clutched a large whisky and Ally a port and lemon. 

We discussed finances and mortgages, brought on by Sir Geoffrey Howe. Pete is of the opinion that we should buy a larger house and have a bigger mortgage.

On to Pine Tops to spend a couple of hours with Mum and Dad. Pine Tops is up for sale for £37,500. A man from Edison's put up a sign this morning.

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Monday March 8, 1982

 David Andrew Baker is 26. Auntie Mabel is 63.

Don't feel communicative. Came home from the YP and found Ally hiding in the kitchen and looking peculiar. Ethel Greenwood had been banging on the wall with her walking stick [a parcel for us had been left there] and for some reason she refused to answer the old girl's summons. Mary [Moore] came across and was knocking on the door, and so with banging from every side Ally decided to hide at the head of the cellar. She is in a highly nervous state and looks exhausted.

Fish fingers. Sue phoned and invited us for tea tomorrow.

Ally was in bed and out cold by 9:30. I sat reading 'Mountbatten' by Richard Hough. I cannot get into it, and find this Hough man offensive. I'm not surprised that Countess Mountbatten has attempted to halt the publication. I read in bed, but it disturbed Ally, and so I switched off at 10:30.

It's the Budget tomorrow. Sir Geoffrey [Howe] won't clobber us too hard because he may only have one more budget to present before the next general election.

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Sunday March 7, 1982

 2nd Sunday in Lent

Hungover. Ally provided me with two invaluable paracetamols and I attempted to battle on. Dave, even at 10am, was doing his books. I marvelled at his dilligence. There he was with a pocket calculator. [He now runs the pub with his mother]. 

Bacon and eggs. Sadie, the German Shepherd, is a fine specimen, and not the vicious, unfriendly dog I expected. Ally was quite taken with the frisky young thing. It's interesting that none of the lads seem to like drinking in the Hollywood these days, and so we had to venture back to the Robin Hood. The fun and warmth of last night is gone and the lads are as lively as a lump of cheese. Garry has been dull since Joanne returned to Jersey. 

Ally reminded me that I was also referring to Anne's bullied Jack Russell as a 'ferret'.

Back at the Hollywood we had turkey for lunch and watched Clint Eastwood's ridiculous [film] 'Magnum Force', which Dave recorded last night. After lashings of tea we left at 7:30. Exhausted, but happy. Home at 8:30. Bed.

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Saturday March 6, 1982

 Lynn is 24 today. We were out of bed at 8:30 drinking tea and talking to the birthday girl on the phone. David is taking her and Frances to York for the day. After breakfast and baths we went into Shipley to collect our wedding video and then headed down the windswept M62 to Stockport. By 1:30 we were sitting around the snooker table at the Hollywood swilling lager. Lily, a brave woman, looked slightly emotional when she saw our wedding video.

Hot pot for dinner, then out to the Armoury pub at 8 and on to the Ring 'O Bells, where Glynnie phoned Sue and Pete and was hilariously explaining to them the rudiments of breast feeding. On to the Robin Hood. Pissed. We were joined by a new boy, John, a neighbour of Steve's, who is a PhD, and hails from far off Tewkesbury. He was a silent chap until the pils lager got to him. We clowned around like an episode from a 1957 Goon Show. He ended up wearing my boots, and I had his shoes. Garry had my blue pullover, and I had his. Back to Anne's [mother of the Robin Hood publican] for supper and wine. Deeply pissed. I insisted on referring to her Jack Russell terrier as a 'rat', 'cavie', and 'micro organism'. Greatly intoxicated. 

Ally, who hadn't touched a drop of drink, was in perfect health and drove a wobbly Dave and I back to the Hollywood.

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Friday March 5, 1982

Ivy, Duchess of Portland

 To the YP tired and hideously unconscientiously. Saw Geoff Hemingway who told me I'm to receive another £10 next week, and of course Malcolm [Barker] will pay me for the family tree after it appears. Could this genealogical stuff be my lucky break? Am I destined to end my days as Garter King of Arms?

Sit with a coffee hiding behind a copy of The Times. Ivy, Duchess of Portland, has died aged 94. She was the widow of the 7th Duke, and was a Maid of Honour to Queen Alexandra from 1912-1915. They don't make 'em like that any more. The Duke, a Cavendish Bentinck, was of course a kinsman of the Queen Mother.

Worked without a lunch break and escaped the office at 4. Sunny and spring-like. Ally was knee deep in soap suds at Club St cleaning Audrey, but she downed her wash leather to come inside and kiss me.

We ate late, a lamb and pepper creation which tasted good but was greasy. No TV. Beethoven instead.

Susie left hospital at about 1pm today and went home to West End Terrace with Christopher. Mum had deposited a bottle of something bubbly in the refridgerator. We didn't go over because everyone else decided to go, and the last thing they need is a crowd on this essentially private and joyous day.

Edison's the estate agents have valued Pine Tops at £37,500. Mum is happy at this. Who wouldn't be?

Bed at 10:40.

-=-

Thursday March 4, 1982

 Sure enough, the dead dog had gone this morning and we could safely take breakfast without it disturbing our charming view of Lidget Green. We debate who might have removed the canine corpse. Put it this way, it's the last time I eat a curry within a ten mile radius of Necropolis Road. 

Hectic lunch time. Went out to buy rosé wine, films, flash cubes, wrapping paper, photo album, stylus, and greeting cards, and all in a 45 minute period. Home heavily laden at 6. Splashed in the bath. Wrapped David's Pierre Cardin after shave lotion, and Lynn's lasagne jar and got over to Burley-in-W for 8:45.

Found Mum, Dad, Lynn, Dave, Jim and Margaret assembled there. A quiet night though Mum was amusing and on top of the world. Somehow things rarely go with a bang at Lawn Road. No sign of Frances. They now have a very large dresser, from 'Cheap 'n Cheerful'. Margaret is insane. Lynn continues to behave peculiarly and seems to be permanently upset about something. David seems to become more and more dull. Ally is choked about the way people have changed. But then we all change, don't we?

Home and bed after 2am.

-=-

Wednesday March 3, 1982

 'Spring' is in the air. Spoke to Mummy. She told me that a man from Edison's estate agents is coming tomorrow to value Pine Tops and have a 'for sale' sign erected in the front garden. A poignant moment. What will life be like without dear Pine Tops? Mum and Dad had been to Otley [hospital] to see Sue & Christopher, both fighting fit.

Home to Baby. We sat cuddled together eating macaroni cheese, mounds of it.

Had a spot of culture later on BBC2 when we watched Her Majesty the Queen opening the Barbican Centre and afterwards attending a concert of Beethoven's fourth piano concerto. The Queen viewed some hideous French paintings which looked as though they were the creation of the inmates of a top security institution for the criminally insane. And weird Canadian sculpture. HM had a glint her eye throughout. They must surely roar with laughter when back at Windsor surrounded by Leonardo cartoons and equestrian oddments by that nice Mr Stubbs. The Queen looked very chic in a flowing pink and silver creation, but is looking her age.

A dog was knocked down and killed at 11:30pm at the junction of Cemetery Road and Necropolis Road. The canine couldn't have picked a more appropriate place to die. Ally was slightly overcome at the sight of the tragedy, and I did my good citizen bit and phoned the police. All very disturbing stuff on which to go to bed. I attempted to cheer Ally by telling her that the dog is now out of its earthly misery and now resplendent in Glory in the arms of Jesus, but it didn't do any good.

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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.

-=-