Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ
As you have no doubt fathomed by now our plans to move from the Moorhouse have grounded on the rocks of apathy. We didn't even bother to apply for the Pig & Whistle because Scunthorpe is no different to Leeds. Since then we have received two interesting circulars - the Botolph Arms near Peterborough - a " restaurant" according to LG, and today Ye Olde White Horse at Spalding, Lincs. Bulb country. Green wellies, &c. Dad phoned tonight and asked Ally if I am unwell because I haven't phoned him since before Monday at least. His guesthouse is currently overrun with army majors, and he is morbidly waiting for the anniversary of Uncle Arnold's 55th birthday on Monday. Well, not morbidly exactly, but it is at the forefront of his mind. Margaret Isabella worked at lunch. Ally and Samuel went to Morrison's. He is a good boy these days and doesn't escape. I took Clemmie downstairs at 3 and some hideously grimacing, gurning customers crowded around her and reduced her to tears. In the screaming and gurgling chaos she clung to me and snuggled close. "Oh, she's a daddy's girl, they always are", came to response. Just Ally and I tonight. Dead.-=-









