speaks, & Louisa was staring at him the WHOLE WAY THROUGH the meal. He tried to impress Daddy, he called him ‘sir’, which of course was a waste of time. Guy called him ‘sir’ too but he talked to him about his books, too, as if he was really interested. Another thing about Frank is: he kissed Mummy’s hand after dinner! Which was so funny I just stared at him. But Mummy laughed, she said it was very charming, & she smiled at him & he looked rather embarrassed which at least took the pompoisity pompousity pomposity! off him a bit.
Jeremy told me I was being awful today but he was nice – I do like Jeremy, this is a such a secret dear Diary. I looked it up at school this term & it isn’t illegal to marry a cousin. Then I think about Archie peeping at Louisa & it makes me feel a bit sick. So I shouldn’t think those things.
When I was waiting for Miranda to come upstairs last night, I heard Frank ask Louisa something, they were still up on the terrace chatting. I wasn’t eavesdropping, it was right above me. I wish I hadn’t heard it. But I pretended I hadn’t & I scurried into my bed. I wish I could say it but I am too shy to write it down. He is not what he seems, that is all. It was a very rude thing to ask someone.
Bust: 20
Nose: 2 mins sorry.
Love always, Cecily
Friday, 26th July 1963
Today is Linda Langley’s birthday. I wonder what she’s doing. She had her hair cut before term ended, it looked marvellous & she said it was for her party. She lives in Bath, it’s too far for me to go for a party, not that she asked me. Bet her party is jolly good though.
Louisa isn’t speaking to the man with the Bowler Hat ie Frank this morning. I bet I know why. It is bc of what I heard him asked her to let him do last night which I am not going to say, it is too smutty for the written word. The BH looks like he has rather loose morals, a bit like Captain Wickham in P&P, goodlooking but FECKLESS – that is a good word.
Apart from that it’s fun having the boys here. Everyone is making an effort. Even Miranda, who is so weird & shy & normally never talks to boys, is suddenly talking to Guy & Bowler Hat man, & parading around in her swimming costume, fluttering her eyelashes at them. It’s hard to believe this is the girl who ran off when Andrew Laraby asked her if she’d like a cup of tea at the Spring Fete at Easter. Mummy hates it, I can tell, she thinks Miranda is boasting, which she is.
M brought Jeremy’s copy of Private Eye down to the beach & showed off about her swimming, & she keeps having these silly conversations with either Guy or BH. She speaks to them in this horrible arch way. She loves ‘That Was The Week That Was’, apparently – hah!
Guy likes lots of strange things I’ve never heard of, he reads American writers like Jack Kerouac & Martin Luther King who is in jail, & books like that. Also George Orwell. BH just swanks around looking pleased with himself. I tried to bring up the report of the trial in the Times today as it was very juicy again, & there was such a funny advert for British Rail with Tony Hancock which made me laugh, he is pulling a silly face to a ticket inspector, but I was too shy in front of all of them, & now they must think I am just a bit young & foolish & only good at cricket.
Miranda on the other hand was so flushed with her success at being sophisticated that she was horrible at tea, she said, ‘Cecily’s a baby, she only likes Swallows & Amazons & the Lone Pine Club’. I HATE HER!! Guy just said, ‘I love those books too, Swallows & Amazons is my favourite.’ Miranda looked so stupid and then she started pretending she likes them too because Guy likes them and she likes Guy. It’s obvious.
He’s not interested in her. I wanted to say what would you know, you haven’t read a whole book since Just William when you were ten. Miranda has that effect on One. She brings out a nasty side of me, more so than ever these holidays. I wish she’d go away. She didn’t come to bed till awfully late tonight and she was flirting with the Bowler Hat all evening. She still hasn’t come in, in fact. I’m waiting for her right now.
Saturday, 27th July 1963
Tired today. It is very hot, getting hotter. Mummy painted me again. She snapped at Mary about the Eccles cakes we had for tea. We went to the Minack Theatre & saw Julius Caesar. It was good, but quite long about Latin politics. Louisa & BH had another argument. Perhaps I will write a poem about it & it will be called, ‘Stop Having Shrill Rows Outside My Bedroom Door’. If he is so desperate to Do It with someone why doesn’t he just go and ask Miranda? She’s behaving like she would.
Haven’t been doing my bust etc exercises which is bad of me dear diary sorry.
Love always, Cecily
Sunday, 28th July 1963
Today was a wonderful day. It might be the best day of my life so far, though I hope there are better to come. You know when everything is perfect? & the air is sweet & people are sweet too.
It has been so hot, so we went to St Michael’s Mount, in the car, with the roof down. Miranda & the Bowler Hat stayed behind, Mummy & Dad too. Jeremy drove us. He is a dear, Jeremy. But perhaps he is a bit dull. I sat next to him & I realised halfway through the journey – I don’t know what to say to you next. Although he’s so nice to people. Tall & comforting & kind, when he hugs you it’s wonderful. But I feel awkward & silly when I talk to him & I don’t understand (or care about) rugby & I don’t know medicine. We drove past two huge hoardings on the side of the road for the News of the World, CHRISTINE’S DIRTY SECRETS one said. When I asked Jeremy about the Profumo trial he blushed & got very awkward, clutching onto the wheel like it was trying to get away. ‘Um . . . ar . . . Cecily . . . Not very appropriate . . .’
We parked by the fields because Marazion is a small village, full of day trippers. We bought
