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Friday, October 26th

Anne H has asked to have a meeting with me. She doesn’t look cheerful and what she has to say is disturbing. Her ‘relationship’ with Denis has crumbled to nothing. After various attempts to acquire information (on our behalf) about matters such as copyright of Python material – songs, etc – Denis became very sharp with her and they haven’t spoken for two weeks.

I had fears that this transition would not be easy, but I am a little worried by the uncompromising toughness that Denis is showing to those who are our friends and those whose value and service to us is proven – Anne and André, to name but two.

Monday, October 29th

The weekend at Abbotsley unblocked the system most successfully. Worked in the garden picking apples on Saturday and quite heavy work clearing the banks of the pond on Sunday. But my cold lingers on and I feel uncertain about my Desert Island Discs recording. I know it’s daft to worry, but once you have agreed to do the show you’re committed to a half-hour’s fairly intensive study of yourself and your taste, so it’s worth working on it.

I spend much of this morning, then, thumbing through my record collection and re-digesting ideas for my eight records. Eventually come up with a pleasingly Catholic selection: Ellington, Elvis, Elgar, the Beatles, ‘Lullaby of Broadway’, a song from Oh What a Lovely War, some brass band and a Goon Show. And, after many second thoughts, plumped for Thackeray’s Vanity Fair as my book, even though I haven’t yet read it, so impressed and cheered am I by the first forty pages!

Armed with these decisions, I took a run on the Heath, greatly enjoyable because of the sunshine, and, after a bath, took a cab down to the Garrick Club to meet Roy Plomley for lunch.

Lovely, rather dusty atmosphere, with fine rooms and above adequate menu. Smoked eels, very tasty and uncluttered kidneys and bacon, a rather average cheeseboard and good house wine. Plomley keeps referring to the club as ‘we’. I think he’s a bit of a snob and not frightfully exciting company. I feel tired and find the effort of making conversation harder than usual.

Considering he does fifty-two programmes a year and has done for the last twelve years, it’s not surprising, though a little disappointing, that once on air Plomley clicks into a routine. He doesn’t listen all the time and, having confessed he has only seen two Python shows and no Ripping Yarns, there is little chance of a similarity of interests. So it’s a touch formal, but he seems very happy.

Taxi home and within an hour leave with Helen for a party at the ICA and a showing of Brian for the crew. About 300 people there – all the old faces of those who were either hoisting me up on crosses, or making the crosses, or filming me being hoisted up, one year ago today.

Afterwards a drink and eats. Much good-mouthing of Ripping Yarns – Chris Miller says that John Osborne raves about me and the Yarns.

And Helen enjoyed much of the movie. Very praiseworthy of GC’s central performance.

Wednesday, October 31st

To an Oak Village Residents’Association meeting.

The chairperson took me aside at the start of the meeting, before I went in, to warn me about certain ‘activists’ on the Association and their dangerous work. Armed with these fears, and ever watchful, I approached the hall to find about six people sitting there. None of them really seemed to fit the bill as ‘activists’.

Anyway, I spoke up, rather insistently, about the appalling state of Lismore Circus and have undertaken to gather signatures about it. I was almost voted on the committee at one point, when Bruce Robertson proposed me, amidst uproar, after one lady had questioned the necessity for a committee at all and the chairperson had been accused of’intolerable restriction of debate’.

All excellent entertainment. I made a good friend out of the admirable Bruce Robertson, and I’ve also lumbered myself with the job of organising next summer’s street party.

Thursday, November 1st

A large Jaguar picks me up after lunch and takes me