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Tuesday January 31, 1984

 5, Club Street, Lidget Green

2:50am. Samuel was chattering like a cheetah, or the chimps in those Johnny Weissmuller 'Tarzan' epics. I got up to look at him and he was sucking his mittens with great concentration. Pots of tea, &c. To knock Samuel out I continued with the Windsor saga and he dropped off somewhere after George VI's coronation and the emergence of the Hitler threat. Much more interesting than stuff about three bears. Went back to bed for a few hours. At breakfast time I went out and bought a fresh loaf and a newspaper. Slippery under foot. We messed around until after 12 changing, feeding, then changing again. I sat with Elizabeth Longford's book. Eventually we put the pram in the car and went into town where we inspected washing machines and pine beds (£180 at Cheap 'n Cheerful). Ally inspected the bed and I stayed in the street pushing Samuel around in his pram. Negotiating snow drifts is something of a military exercise. We arrived home at 4 to find Harry and Marian Miller driving into the street behind us. They came in for a cup of tea but Samuel screamed with hunger. He had been patient all afternoon. The Millers were drivern out after half an hour. Harry almost talking to himself about a pub near Eggborough Power Station. We later phoned our mothers. We're going to Winchester tomorrow after clinic and to Horton on Tuesday Feb 7. Ally phoned the Moorhouse and asked if we can store some furniture there on Sunday Feb 12. The Piries said yes. They are flogging the microwave oven for £125. A bit steep? Cottage pie. Watched 'Dallas' and the news. Ronald Reagan is to run again as expected. His only rival is Fritz Mondale, but he'll get back in. That's a cert. Bed at 11. The little boy slept from midnight but seemed to be having nightmares twitching and flinching in his cot.

-=-

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.

-=-

Wednesday May 9, 1984

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds, &c Still dull outside. Who cares? Our alarm clock is on the blink and refuses to sound off. Samuel laid patiently...