20th December 1667
“Up, and all the morning at the office with Sir R. Ford and the same company as on Wednesday about my Lady Batten’s accounts. At noon home to dinner, where my poor wife in bed in mighty pain, her left cheek so swelled as that we feared it would break, and so were fain to send for Mr. Hollier, who come, and seems doubtful of the defluxions of humours that may spoil her face, if not timely cured. He laid a poultice to it and other directions, and so away, and I to the office, where on the same accounts very late, and did come pretty near a settlement. So at night to Sir W. Pen’s with Sir R. Ford, and there was Sir D. Gawden, and there we only talked of sundry things; and I have found of late, by discourse, that the present sort of government is looked upon as a sort of government that we never had yet — that is to say, a King and House of Commons against the House of Lords; for so indeed it is, though neither of the two first care a fig for one another, nor the third for them both, only the Bishops are afeard of losing ground, as I believe they will. So home to my poor wife, who is in mighty pain, and her face miserably swelled: so as I was frighted to see it, and I was forced to lie below in the great chamber, where I have not lain many a day, and having sat up with her, talking and reading and pitying her, I to bed.” (Samuel Pepys)
20th December 1918
“Diana and I dined with Beaverbrook. We talked of the new Sunday paper* he is bringing out and the prices which various authors fetch. Diana asked him how much he would pay her. He said £200 for four articles. She said ‘done’. And he there and then wrote her a cheque for the whole sum. She had promised to go and see Moore after dinner. She went there late and I left her half an hour there and then called for her. Meanwhile I racked my brain to find subjects for the four articles which I shall have to write. Moore still clings to his offer. I wonder what will come of it.” (Duff Cooper)
* The Sunday Express
20th December 1945
“Long cipher telegram from Dickie Mountbatten, who persists in declining a peerage of any kind. After a hurried dinner at the Travellers, I had to go round to No. 10 to consult L. Rowan as to the next step in this tedious correspondence.
I got the King to see Edward Ford, and to approve his appointment as assistant private secretary from 1 January. HM seems to have been favourably impressed by him.
Vincent Masssey asked me if I could do anything to stop Monty carrying out his projected tour of Canada next spring, just after Alex’s arrival as Governor-General. This obviously won’t do, and I have written to Alanbrooke suggesting that he tell Monty privately that he must at any rate wait till the autumn before poaching on his brother Field-Marshal’s preserves.” (Sir Alan Lascelles)
20th December 1946
“Oh, the cold! Motored with the Admiral to Fairford, where we lunched. Had a quick look round Fairford Park, which is flat and dull, with nissen huts all over it. Could not see inside the house which is 1690 outside. It has plain, rambling extensions. At three we reached Buscot. Gavin Faringdon showed us the outside, all kept in apple-pie order. The Harold Peto path from the SE angle off the house towards the lake is impressive. The house a well contrived fake. Paul Hyslop has done very well, I think. Gavin certainly has some first-rate furniture and pictures. House well appointed and heated. The Admiral bewildered by Gavin’s socialism-cum-plutocracy, as well he might be. Gavin has a youngish, ogling, rather raddled American staying, or perhaps living with him. For dinner Gerald Berners, Robert Heber-Percy and another young man came over. Rather a sticky meal because of the Admiral being out of things. Poor Admiral more bewildered than ever by the company. His incredulous eyes on stalks. His instincts offended. I did not enhance my credibility by talking too much about art and drama, about which I know little and the Admiral even less. He was well out of his depth and kept trying desperately to surface like a moribund dolphin. When the Faringdon Hall party left Gavin kept us sitting up till long past midnight in spite of poor Admiral’s unrepressed yawns.” (James Lees-Milne)
20th December 1977
“This morning I received a card from Wilfred Blunt to say that Grizel Hartley was in hospital in Windsor. I take a train to see her. She is in fact in good heart and shows no sign of a stroke. In her loud upper-class voice she tells me some good stories. At Hatherop Castle once she met a servant emerging from Williamstrip with two terriers. ‘Are the Jack Russells?’ Grizel asked. ‘No, they are Earl St Aldwyn’s.’ She also tells me of how a socially pretentious parent with a boy in their house said:’Of course we hope that our daughter will marry a Moor’. To which Grizel retorted:’What, like Desdemona?’ (Kenneth Rose)