Sunday July 21, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

7th Sunday after Trinity

Sue is 26. We went to Guiseley for a barbecue luncheon. Blustery. Went with John to Menston to collect some home brewed barley wine which proved fatal. Dad seems to have aged and seemed quite lost. Sue was very reflective and talked of her last birthday with Mum. The children all played so well together. Back to the Moorhouse for 5pm. Sam was put to bed. Hilda came at 7, late. We sped to the Fox & Hounds and found Dad, Sue, Pete, Lynn and Dave ordering. A good dinner spoiled by Lynn who who told us she fell out with Dad this afternoon when he arrived at their placed from Susan's pissed and "blubbering." He has every right to 'blubber', surely? The hideous manageress at the Fox refused to take a cheque for £80. To the White Cross all over-intoxicated. Back at 12. Hilda and Tony speak such sense. Dad will manage, but it is early days.

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Saturday July 20, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

Ally was done in all day because of our late night. She says she wished our relations could only realise that we need sleep and go home at a decent hour. I should, she says, throw them out earlier. At  3:30, feeling decidedly weak, I went out with Samuel to Grandways and bought fish in sauce in plastic bags which seems to be our regular Saturday nosh these days.

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Friday July 19, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

Tried to phone Janette all day without success. Spoke to her at 2pm. She has been abed and was waiting for John to return at 3 and then he would take her to Leeds. Later she phoned to say a midwife was with her and she is going to the Clarendon Wing by ambulance. Things seem to be coming to a head.

Dad has arrived home. He phoned. As he prophesised the Welsh leave a lot be to be desired. John called in at 8 after visiting Janette, who is now on a glucose drip. Hilda, Tony, Jill and Tim came in, and all made merry. June brought in a Brussels sprout pie. Very busy. Ally worked with Margaret M. I did nothing. They all stayed until after 1am. __________.

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Thursday July 18, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

Dull, overcast, &c. Samuel fell out of bed with a bump in the middle of the night and Ally rescued him. This morning he ran in, like Steve Cram, clutching his blue elephant. By 9:30 all our little jobs were done and Sam and I walked up Dewsbury Rd. It's Pancrack Day. I saw most of our customers queuing at the post office. We bought chocolate buttons and ate them on the way back. Janette phoned to say she might be in the early stages of labour. Ally ordered her to go immediately to the Clarendon Wing but when I phoned John at 8 Janette answered and reported that she was calmly watching 'Top of the Pops'. Ally was livid. Sue is feeling better. A 'flu bug. Margaret is looking after the Nason 'terrorists'. Dad has phoned Janette and has decided to venture homeward tomorrow to be around for the birth. I am looking forward to seeing him.

Pancrack: This phrase is slang for being on the dole or in receipt of social security benefits. It is believed that "on the pan crack" originates from the coal mining areas of Yorkshire. 

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Wednesday July 17, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

Day off. Dawn chorus, &c. We went out at 9 to pay MM £62 for Samuel's mattress. They were having a day off and so we spoke to MM's Dad. A pleasant man. We went to Guiseley to take flowers to the cemetery. We haven't taken flowers since the funeral. It was awful. Desolate. Dead flowers on the grave from Dad's last visit. Samuel was interested with desecrating a neighbouring grave with marble chippings. To Sue's. We found Margaret N looking after the children and Susan was in bed  looking bright, but running a temperature and feeling weak and wobbly. She complained that she hadn't seen a doctor and so Ally phoned the surgery and ordered him to attend. She may just have a chill, but coming so soon after recent gynaecological problems Ally felt a doctor was required. We went on to Bradford before the doctor appeared to see David Gaunt at Appleyard's. We agreed to buy the Maestro for £3,995, and they are going to take Mandy Metro in part exchange for £1,800. We can accept delivery of the vehicle next Thursday. Chuffed. On to Club St. We took Sam for a walk in the park but he fought the idea of sleeping. I had fish and chips and Ally went for her hair doing. 'Mad' Norman has been in our garden tearing up the flowers. We have a new neighbour called Gladys. Phoned Susie. The doctor says she has a touch of 'flu and has been ordered to stay in bed for a few days. To Bradford. Bought Susan a vase for her birthday. Heavy rain. ______. Ally mislaid her Barclaycard and so we re-traced our steps to Appleyard's and found it in the possession of Mr Gaunt. Town was busy and the traffic hideous. Samuel squealed on the way home. Evening off. Ally set fire to the top kitchen burning mince. Booby Ewing died in 'Dallas'.

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Tuesday July 16, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

We had a rough passage through the hours of darkness with Samuel who kept us awake until dawn. Ally ended up sleeping with him in his room. At 7:15 Sam and I had boiled eggs whilst Ally slept for another hour. Breakfast TV: President Reagan was operated on for a cancerous polyp on Saturday but stands a fifty per cent chance of making a full recovery they say. However, if I was George Bush I'd start packing my bags. 

Ally went off Maestro-watching at 1pm leaving me. Sam in his bed, and I with cook in the kitchen. A quiet lunch really. I have borrowed a crate of barley wine from the Station pub. Tim is on holiday from there and a slovenly relief manager was propping up the bar.

Maureen was sobbing into her mop bucket this morning. Carol and Sam have split it seems and he has run home to his mum and Carol has landed at the McNicol residence with baby Teresa. Such a pity. People seem to give up so easily. Marriage has to be fought for and worked at. Some people do not realise this is the case.

John and Janette met Ally on (illegible) Canal Rd and looked at an A registered Maesto. £3,900. One or two bruises but they'll be fixed on purchase. John seemed happy. I saw the car at 4:15, but you know me. A car is a car. Engines leave me cold. I cannot tell a spark plug from a contraceptive. 

Ally tired and washed out again. Very pale. Janet worked. Very quiet. Ally remained upstairs.

Jack Collett told me that on June 10 this year he celebrated 20 years as a bigamist.

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Monday July 15, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

Phoned Donna Lea early to discuss the missing diet pils but she was in the middle of a choking fit and not giving me her undivided attention. She did say that they are 'looking into it' at their end. She asked me whether I went down into the cellar with the 'two Ronnies' on June 13. I told her that our car had just been pranged outside on Admiral St and that sadly I hadn't. 

The Moorhouse Inn.

We have a postcard from Papa in Tenby. I do miss him. He seems to have been away for ages. Sue phoned. We are going (to Guiseley) on Sunday night to celebrate her 26th (birthday). Later, Ally took Samuel to Guiseley and he came back looking like a coalface worker. I think Christopher is a bit of a tease. Ally called in at Albert Farnell's garage in Guiseley re the purchase of a Maestro. Nothing doing. She also called at Appleyard's on Manningham Lane and saw a car. _______. Phoned Hilda and asked her to (baby)sit for Samuel on Sunday. She seemed very pleased to be of some use. 

Tonight I drank a few diet pils with Jack Collett. In the lounge bar Harold Wilkinson was celebrating his 74th birthday and June had baked a large, sticky blue and silver cake. Pleasant evening. Ally washed out. Bed. Read Henry VIII.

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Sunday July 14, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

6th Sunday after Trinity

The Maestro.

We overslept. Ally wanted to go to Linfood, but we were too late. Margaret returned from Blackpool. It was a quiet lunch. This afternoon we went out to look at Maestro cars. We nipped out at 4pm yesterday too to do likewise, but forgot to mention it. Car salesmen? Aren't they the lowest form of life? Something from the primeval swamp. We cannot be conned. They must think we look stupid. Today however we did look almost like Romany types. Ally with her T-shirt hanging out. Very Sir Robert Geldof GCVO, PC, in fact. Samuel was a handful to say the least and he kicked and screamed on garage forecourts and I had difficulty looking at any of the vehicles. Ally knows what she is doing. Frank will have to be consulted re a loan.

Roast beef at 5pm. Ally cried watching a slushy film about ice-skaters who fall in love. 

A very busy last hour in the bars tonight. Me and Gary. Ally upstairs. Ran out of OBB at 10pm. This also occurred on June 30. Dear me, what a hopeless manager I am.

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Saturday July 13, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

We thought Margaret M was due back from Blackpool today, but she cannot start work until tomorrow. I phoned Gary and he came in at 12 looking weary. He blames the sex. "I never thought I'd say no to a bird, but last night I couldn't manage any more. I just had to sleep." Young Booth is 21, with no feeling, care or sensitivity. Perhaps he'll change one day when the right 'bird' comes along.

Fret about the stocktake. Even the Why Not at it's blackest wasn't as bad as this. To be ripped off and know that you can do little about it is dreadful.

Clapton at Live Aid.

Live Aid. Have you heard of it? Gangs of pop stars queuing up at Wembley Stadium and simultaneously in Philadelphia singing to raise a possible £50m for Ethiopia. Live TV coverage from this morning until 4am tomorrow. Bob Geldof is the pushing force. Perhaps I should say Bob Geldof, OBE, though the honour does seem inadequate for master minding this event. People get the OBE for mucking out toilets. Perhaps Bob Geldof, CH? Quiet in the pub. Marjorie worked. What a nattering barmaid she is. We watched Eric Clapton at 1am and then went to bed. Samuel slept for the first time in his own single bed. Thunder at 4am and the patter of tiny footsteps put paid to that and he appeared in our room for a cuddle. Already by 2am he'd fallen out of bed and we found him underneath in a crouched position. Angel he is.

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Friday July 12, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

Horrific day. Stocktake at 10:30. We accept these events as routine and do not worry about them. The Why Not pub days are gone. But aarrgghh. ... We had a £300 defecit today. Gallons of Diet Pils are missing. The equivalent of five 9 gallon casks. Some sick joke, surely? We suspect Ron Brooks. Were the containers full when he returned them on June 13? Which ever way you look at it I am in deep shit. It's the sack probably. We cannot accept that a member of staff is giving away the lager from under our noses. No, it's Ron Brooks or a thieving dray team. I am angered to Hell. Our evening ruined. I spoke to Donna (Lea) who put on her serious voice, but isn't remotely Fran O'Brien-ish. The annoying thing is that it makes us look like crooks. The deficit also comes off my 1986 bonus. What an evil blow. The stocktaker is going to see Ronnie Simpson today and ask him to recal his visit here on the morning of June 13 with R. Brooks in the cellar. It's futile now. The deficit is £357.62. Ugh.

John was saying last night that private health care had done nothing for Mum and she might as well have been 'done' on the NHS. This is not so. For the few remaining months she had she was at ease with Mr Hall, and Armitage. She never endured a public hospital ward surrounded by hysterectomies. That could not be contemplated.

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Thursday July 11, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

Uncle Peter called in for lunch. I gave him a pint and a bowl of pie and peas. He says that when Dad phoned him to tell him that Mum had died he just sat down on his stairs and sobbed his heart out. Julie is to marry Steven Dean (?) in August 1986. Off he went boisterous as ever at 1:30. 

This evening we made a pilgrimage to Sam Smith's brewery. 32 of us. John and Janette came at 5:30, and Marlene followed at 6 but Samuel refused to go to bed , and squealed like a scrubbed pig. Ally didn't like leaving poor Marlene with our naughty son. All to Tadcaster by coach (£50) and to the Angel & White Horse. It was a brewery excursion lasting an hour or so followed by samples, free ones, in the cellars. In the cellar Janette explained that she'd spoken to someone at the Clarendon Wing who told her that the baby can take the surname Rhodes, if the father agrees. It was back up to the Angel after looking at wooden barrels. Good food. Saw Ronnie Simpson with a broken arm received playing cricket. Home at 11:30 after much merriment. Sat with Marlene, John and Janette. A few drinks. Bed very late. Ally did the tills as we sat and watched. We squabbled about the NHS, and the chatter turned to Mum.

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