Monday January 30, 1984

 5, Club Street

Auntie Mabel and Samuel.

4am rise. Pots of tea. __________. Slept until 8 and then decided we really must visit the Moorhouse Inn today and so I went down and phoned Michael Pirie. No breakfast and instead we packed the slumbering child into the car and drove to Leeds eating biscuits en route. We couldn't find the pub although we could see the blocks of flats nearby. We found the Piries in a state of chaos - half packed. We met a vague Irish cleaner and saw Audrey ('a first class barmaid' according to Chris Wills). They took us upstairs for coffee  and Pirie gave us a run down again of the trouble he's had in two years. Not bad at all when one thinks of the Why Not. The dogs and cats sat licking their lips (if they actually have lips?) at Samuel's pram which we placed on a table midst the potted palms and Victoriana. I do not trust cats with babies. I have seen too many Hitchcock thrillers. We left at 12. Should we buy the Pirie's microwave which they paid £169 for in September? How much should we pay them? Home at 1. We all fed. We had a full-English. Rain. Then back to Pudsey. Mabel was out and so we went to Marlene's. She was out too. So we went to Jill's. Tim is in London. Samuel made a dive for Jill's bossom. Back to Mabel's at 5. Samuel was crying with hunger. We stayed for half an hour and auntie cuddled him so tightly that she almost squeezed the life out of him. We promised to return next week. Home at 6. Fish fingers. Bed at 10. No TV.

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