Sunday March 4, 1984

 Quinquagesima

Moorhouse Inn, Leeds 11

Ally looked awful all day and was near to collapse. Last night was her first bash at alcohol in almost a year. Whilst I was downstairs 12-2 she created a luncheon - roast beef, &c.We ate and then climbed into bed until after 6. Slept soundly. Samuel later had hysterics and the inside of his nappy looked like an early Picasso. This evening Jane (Tudor) turned up. She is a friend of Alan Oliver, the YP graphic person, who married the singer Ronnie Hilton's daughter in June '81, but who is now divorced. Not a busy night like last Sunday. We collpased back into bed at 12 but Samuel bawled for a couple of hours and wouldn't let us sleep. He joined us in bed.

Lynn and David are going to a flat in Filey this week during their birthday celebrations. Why Filey? All I remember about that God forsaken place was the dog excretia. _____________.

What has become of Mama? Mum and Dad haven't been in touch since they came here a month ago and we only saw them briefly on Monday at Sue's 'do' for Christopher. __________. I really must phone.

Takings: (B) £133.87, (L) £174.45

-=-

Saturday March 3, 1984

Our pine bed: Longleat

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds 11

Ally cleaned the car and Samuel slept in his pram outside. Bessie phoned to talk about Lanzarote. Frank saw (Uncle) John in the Bank of Bilbao. He was signing a cheque, but F didn't like to say anything.

Our pine bed arrived. Our bedroom is now transformed into Longleat. Very grand. Downstairs for lunchtime. Audrey and Margaret were working. Michael and Harold Brown came. Harold is such an old (undecipherable). He spoke of days in the 1920s when he and his brother Arthur would get up on a Saturday and tell their mother they were going out for a mornings drive and then off they would go to Lincolnshire until the following Thursday and then return home to find the Yorkshire puddings still in the oven. Michael told us he had been out for a pint with a certain bishop last week who told him that the Runcies lead separate lives. Mrs Runcie never sleeps at Lambeth Palace.

John, Janette, Sue and Peter came at 7 and John erected the splendid bed. They came downstairs afterwards and watched me work. Ally was down too, and Samuel slept without any trouble.

News: Maria has sold the Corner House Cottage and is moving to Ridgeway (Guiseley) and looking for a house in Otley. It pleases me that my Rhodes niece and nephew will not be Scots. Sue and Pete have sold West End Terrace but the house they desire on Moorland Crescent hasn't gone through yet and so they probably won't take up residence there until the baby comes on May 26. A jolly night after closing. All on liqueurs. A Bols evening, in fact. Peter was very drunk. Upstairs for fish and chips and fond farewells at 2:30am. Quite knackered.

Takings: (B) £184.76, (L) £206.23

-=-

Sunshine and Springtime. I am writing this through the leaves of a large spider plant which sits in the middle of the table. It's like keeping a diary in the jungle. 

Friday March 2, 1984

 New Moon

Moorhouse Inn, Leeds 11

Blustery and early snow. After closing this afternoon Ally and I pushed Samuel over (Hunslet) Moor in his pram and walked along to the shops to buy pork chops and pay our enormous newspaper bill. Bought a 'Private Eye' which says naughty things about the Macmillan peerage. Coming back at 4:30 we called in at the so-called vicarage to see the Rev Terry Munro. He is a pipe cleaner with a beard. He asked us to attend St Peter's on Tuesday evening to discuss the baptism. 

Heath: Earl of Broadstairs?

Had a busy night working with Margaret, a Scot. Ally came down wearing blue and white stripes to lend us a helping hand for the last hour. People made cracks about her stripes and looking like a prop forward.

Will Edward Heath be Earl of Broadstairs or will the PM insult him with a viscountcy? Jim Callaghan will take a life peerage like Uncle Harold Wilson. He doesn't have the cheek to become a hereditary peer and sit on the Labour benches. Sir Keith Joseph will surely become a viscount and so will the bungling Sir Geoffrey Howe, QC, MP, who will succeed Quentin (Hogg) as Lord High Chancellor.

Takings: (B) £236.06, (L) £182.27

-=-

Thursday March 1, 1984

 Moorhouse Inn

St David's Day

I posted a cheque for £99 to MM and Marita for the mattress. I wrote to Dave G, Dave L and Great Auntie Anne, &c. Dad would call it 'doing a bit of clerical'. March is upon us. I am feeling my age these days. People who shouldn't do are starting to look young. Acne covered police constables and fresh-faced juvenile bishops. It was a 7 o'clock start today. The stock taker was here at 8:15. After an hour he announced that we have a £32 surplus. Such a relief. _________. It must have been _______with his fingers in the till. He did act odd and suspicious and he was buying cocktails for his lady friend on Tuesday at £1.45 a throw.

Samuel is a little bruiser. He has grown since we put him to bed last night. Ally has dressed him all in white and he looks so beautiful. What proud parents we are. L. Gledhill phoned at 10. The new tills come on Tuesday. He was pleased about the stock.

Can I speculate about the name of the expected royal baby? Prince George of Wales sounds good, but then I expected George in '82. We haven't had a James since the onset of the Hanoverian succession - other than James Ogilvy. John brings to mind the epileptic prince who died in seclusion in 1919, but of course Earl Spencer is John. Too many Edwards. Perhaps Prince Philip? As for girls they can be more adventurous. Victoria, Charlotte, Caroline, Louise/Louisa, Alexandra, Elizabeth?

Takings: (B) £192.68, (L) £175.32.

-=-

Wednesday February 29, 1984

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds 11

Leap Year Day. Poor people like James Ogilvy, Moraji Desai, and Colonel the Hon John Bingham celebrate birthdays today. 

Lazy. Eventually I got out of bed at 8 and changed Samuel who was horribly wet and plastered. His eyes are as big as saucers and give me such long looks. A postcard comes from Frank and Bessie in Lanzarote. I do hope they are enjoying the barren wilderness of that place. Some people could become depressed by the volcanic desolation. 

Club Street.

I went down at 1:15 to put out a 51 year-old bum who stood at the bar with an alarm clock and ordered three pints of bitter and proceeded to drop tablets into each glass. As I escorted him out he whimpered that his father is dead and that his mother is Welsh. I responded that it is better to be dead than Welsh. So very cruel. I then sliced off a chunk of my left thumb whilst trying to defrost a beefburger. Sod it. At 2 we crept out and went to Bradford shopping. Trousers and baby necessities. It was refreshing walking around town with the pram. On to Club Street and sat with Mary Moore who told us that Charles Eyden was buried on Thursday. He would have been 85 in September. Poor Norman continues to wander around the street in his open pyjamas. Back at 8:30. A night of peaceful domesticity.

Takings: (Bar) £123.66, (L) £110.02

-=-

Tuesday February 28, 1984

 7 o'clock start. Down to the cellar to splash around and prepare for the dray delivery. At breakfast my boiled egg was bad and Ally immediately offered me hers. 'Greater Love Hath No Woman' &c. The phone trilled. It was Jane, our new recruit, who says she has a 'bug' and  cannot work tonight, but will be back on Sunday. Oh dear. I do hope she isn't going to be 'one of those'. The dray came at 10 and they went away leaving me short of two bottles of spirits. I was annoyed with myself for allowing this to happen and it will play havoc with the stocktake on Thursday. 

Ally went off shopping and I entertained Samuel. He is a tremedous little character. His eyes followed me around the room. So sturdy too. I am proud and thankful. I will phone the vicar soon to arrange a christening. He's the Rev Terry Munro. Ally says Terry is an unlikely name for a man of the cloth. The snob in me says Terry is more suited to the likes of a bricklayer. 

Harold: another war.

Dear 'Supermac' graces page one of the Daily Telegraph arriving at the House of Lords yesterday for a dress rehearsal for his introduction to the upper house. The last such 'do' for a newly ennobled earl was that following Lord Snowdon's elevation in 1961 - when Harold was PM. I can never remember whether the last earldom to be created was Snowdon or Avon.

Chicken and Yorkshire puds at 4. Watched on by Samuel in his chair. What a pampered pet he is. He whimperes to be picked up and lays placidly in my arms as I go from room to room. He loves bodily contact. 

Worked with Maureen (McNicol). It was dead. An old boy called Harold (born in 1911) told me that we need another war to put the country back on its feet. I hate that sort of talk. I went upstairs at 11 to find Ally and Samuel asleep. I did the tills. Vanham, my old maths teacher, would be proud of me. 

Takings: (B) £121.65, (L) £80.26.

-=-

Monday February 27, 1984

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds 11

Mrs Thingy phoned from Cheap 'n Cheerful to say we can have an extra large four-poster bed for £210 as a special order and that it will be here at the weekend. Gill phoned to say they are coming here on Friday for the weekend. The takings will shoot up, won't they? 

The family at Christopher's party.

It is Christopher's second birthday. At 3:30 we went over to Guiseley with baby to Christopher's riotous birthday party at which Lynn, Frances, Katie, Pamela, Rebecca, Margaret, Mum, Dad, Emma (next door) and her mother were guests. All potted beef sandwiches, jellies and buns. Lynn took me on one side in the sitting room to say she is furious with L _____________. The family seemed odd and distracted. Mum and Lynn were particularly 'ratty'. Back to Leeds for 5:30. Dead. Ally came down for a few hours on and off. It is a start. L. Gledhill called in. He asked about 'Mister Oliver's' visit and said I had put the cat among the pigeons by telling him I had not been on Mike Walker's training course. I might have to go alone to Taddy. The news tills will be here on Thursday. 

Joan Parkinson-disease worked tonight. She's a mixed up, annoying wench. The tills are always down after she has worked. 

Takings: (B) £116.44, (L) £118.69

-=-

Sunday February 26, 1984

 Sexagesima

Moorhouse Inn, Leeds 11

Another quiet Sunday. I was up at dawn and cleaning the beer lines. Ally came down to lend a hand whilst Samuel slept soundly. She is looking forward to getting 'stuck in' in the bar. The pub needs a woman's touch. _____. The Piries came back from Aberdeen and he came snooping in supposedly to give me a key. It's my view that ex-landlords ought to be banned from revisiting their old pubs.

Roast chicken for lunch. Watched TV afterwards. Caught the end of a Bing Crosby movie, but did some channel hopping. Susan Hayward was in a harrowing film on the other side and I cannot decide whether or not she died at the end. 

It was Jane Tudor's first night. She is an attractive girl and should be good at raking in some of the male population. She did very well for a first night. Quiet until 9:30 and then a deluge of people. Hilda, Tony, Jill and Tim came in and stayed until after 12. We gave them a guided tour of the cellars and we had a couple of pints in the dimly lit lounge. ________. Very late to bed because of our visitors. The novelty will soon wear off and we'll soon be forgotten and ignored by our siblings and cronies. I really must ring Dave G and Dave L. They do not know we are here.

Takings: (B) 116.20, (L) £173.48

-=-

Saturday February 25, 1984

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds 11

Samuel: gurgling more.

Samuel woke at 6 but after a feed we switched off and went back to bed until 9 which was naughty because I had so much to do. The traditional boiled egg followed and we managed to eat before Samuel woke. He takes pleasure in interrupting meals.

A quiet Saturday with no visits from kin or from friends. We half expected a visit from Sue and Peter, who have yet to see us at work in a public house. At 3:30 we wrapped Samuel up, bundled him into the car, and went in search of Makro, the wholesalers, but we wandered around quite lost. Leeds United were playing at home and so we hurried back for 5 o'clock to avoid the rabble. The great outdoors exhausted me and I nodded off in the armchair after tea and crumpets. Samuel is now gurgling more, almost trying to speak, sturdier too and managing the occasional smile of recognition. Some people cruelly say the smiles are only wind. I don't think so.

We haven't heard from Mum & Dad since they were here almost two weeks ago. Karen and Steve are spending this weekend at Horton-in-Ribblesdale, with Hayley. 

Bed after Peter Cushing. 

Takings: (B) £188.99, (L) £169.62.

-=-

Friday February 24, 1984

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds 11

Ally was far from happy when I decided to trim my moustache over the sink and leave all the hairs glued to the porcelain. Surely, a true wife would have gathered them up and pressed them together and placed them in a locket to wear close to her heart until her dying day? It's the sort of thing a Jane Austen character would do, so why didn't she? Where has romance gone? On the subject of romance we have suffered something of a blow re our King-size pine bed. We saw one at Cheap 'n Cheerful yesterday and when Ally phoned the guy who makes the beds with our mattress measurements she was told 'Oh, we only make the standard double bed size'. So, we have lashed out on a £99 mattress that we now cannot use. Ally implored the bed-maker to reconsider and he went away to think about it. We still owe MM the money for the mattress.

Lunchtime passed smoothly. I did some of the cooking when Ally was feeding Samuel. Will he have a brother George? We are thinking about this already. Tobias is a good name too. Ally surprised me by saying she'd like a Harry.  Oh dear. Clementine remains the top girls choice.

Worked flat out 5:30 to 11:30. Chaotic. Margaret (Milne) says it's the busiest Friday here since Christmas. Even the lounge bar was deep with thirsty customers praising my ale. Is it usual practice to praise a new landlord's beer? People do say that it has improved since Pirie's departure. I suppose they will say the same about me and my ale when I am no more. Sausage sandwiches and bed at 12:30.

Takings: (B) 211.62, (L) £189.37

-=-

Thursday February 23, 1984

 Busy busy. Hurry hurry. Samuel is six weeks old today. Ally sang 'Happy Birthday' at breakfast time. I am feeling settled now and find the Moorhouse so easy after the Why Not, although some lads in the tap room need watching.

This afternoon we dashed home to Bradford to kidnap the Staffordshire pot dogs, lamps and cushions. The place is quite stripped now but we refuse to become sad or nostalgic about Club Street. Times have to change, don't they? We have to move on. We cannot be expected to spend decades of our lives in that declining Bradford suburb. I see myself in ten years time in a tiny, ramshackle of a pub in the middle of rolling countryside with Ally looking lovelier than ever, and four children upstairs playing Ludo with a floppy dog at their feet. How close am I with this? 

To Cheap 'n Cheerful too. Hung pictures tonight. The tatty landing at the top of the stairs is now a gallery of pictures. Ally could make Spandau prison comfy. We have been given a leaflet on birth control. Something about the rhythm method. I suppose you make love to Glenn Miller? Oh dear.

Takings: (B) £215, (L) £125

-=-

Wednesday February 22, 1984

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds 11

Exhausted. Up at 7 o'clock but could do no work and so I wallowed in a hot bath and then sat over breakfast and the Daily Telegraph until 9:30. Disgusting really with my beer cellar looking like downtown Beirut. 

Breakfast TV: Selina Scott doesn't seem to know the difference between corporal and capital punishment. Katie Rabett dominates the funnies. Pictures of the future Duchess of York in fishnet stockings and French knickers cannot be right. I am a strait-laced sod at times. The hideous Willie Hamilton MP is to introduce a Bill to abolish hereditary peerages primarily to stop Mark Thatcher becoming the 2nd Earl of Finchley after the death of Margaret, Countess of Finchley, KG. Silly old pillock.

Ally in a green t-shirt looking divine. She's having her six week check up - a post-natal thing. ________. We both did the food today and I didn't go into the bar. We took a meagre £6 on sausages and chips, &c.

Michael Brown.

We went to the clinic at 3:30. Samuel was weighed and inspected by a doctor. He's 10lb 1oz. Excellent. He behaved well and didn't whimper or bawl. ___________. Then Ally saw Dr Danks and had a post-natal inspection. It was over in minutes. She's a brave old stick. 

Bessie phoned. They go to Lanzarote tomorrow.
Michael Brown and Roger Ratcliffe came here at 7:30 and took me on a pub crawl around old Hunslet. The Garden Gate is a breathtaking example of Victoriana. The three of us sat over halves of bitter glued to 'Coronation Street'. It was so good to see them both after so long. Michael is such a great wit. Roger is now the Sunday Times northern correspondent. Back for 9:30. Ate with Ally at 10. Relaxation.

Takings: (B) £129, (L) 113.

-=-

Tuesday February 21, 1984

 Moorhouse Inn ...

The flurry of snow is gone. A quiet day in the bars. We sold only £3 worth of lunches, but it's better than nowt. 

Prince Andrew's new girlfriend is Katie Rabett, daughter of an Ealing gynaecologist, and a model turned actress. Watch this space.

Bessie phoned to say that cousin Patricia is with child and that cousin Margaret has left home. Is she now dwelling with PC 49? 

Gave interviews for the bar job vacancy. Carl White, 18, unsuitable. Andrew Cunningham, 20, looks like one half of Torvill & Dean, but I can't decide which half. Michael McLaughlin, 19, doubtful, and friendly Jane Tudor, pretty and enthusiastic. She starts on Sunday.

It was Charlie's last night. If he's a thief then I'm Anna Neagle. A pleasant atmosphere reigned tonight. I am going to enjoy living here. 'Mister Oliver' came at 7:30 and we chatted for 15 minutes. He knew all about Samuel and asked whether the brewery had influenced the name. I told him that my great-great grandpapa was so named. He enquired about the Why Not and commented: 'Ah well, you have had your Teesside stint'. It must be a test. He dashed out leaving me cheerful. 

Samuel refused to be put down and screamed until nearly 2am. Ally was at the end of her tether. This difficult patch cannot go on much longer ... can it?

Takings: (B) £115, (L) £121

-=-

Monday February 20, 1984

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds 11, &c

Washington's Birthday Observance

A stocktake showed a £76 defecit. Shit.

Snow. Yes it's back here. The scandal (news)papers reveal that Prince Andrew celebrated his 24th birthday at the weekend by taking the winsome Carolyn Herbert  to Covent Garden. Daughter of Lord Porchester and eminently suitable. I feel sure that the prince will not have a prolonged bachelorhood as the Prince of Wales did. 

Samuel screamed the place down. Wrapped in white we took him to the bank. The Piries never banked on Mondays. We deposited £1,349.

Toasted sandwiches went out on the lunchtime menu and went down well. I was on edge all day waiting for a visit from 'Mister Oliver' (Smith). L. Gledhill warned me on Saturday that the brewery chief could drop in at any time. 

Joan Parkinson worked tonight. She chatted much about her Thalidomide son who is 24. She lives on her nerves. Our advert for part-time staff was in the EP and our dinner was ruined by the telephone. A pleasant sounding girl from Morley called Jane Tudor, as in Henry, phoned. She'll get the job. Seeing her tomorrow. 

Hilda and Tony walked in at 9 o'clock bearing a beautiful red suit for Samuel. _______. We gave them a few drinks and showed them around. Sausage sandwiches at midnight and bed.

Takings: (B) £124, (L) £86.

-=-

Sunday February 19, 1984

 Septuagesima

Moorhouse Inn, Leeds 11, &c.

The Sunday Telegraph says Harold Macmillan is to be Earl of Stockton (his old constituency) and Viscount Macmillan. 

Samuel was in a yelping mood to begin the day. He notices us now, and gives me long, concentrated looks. I adore the little pudding.

A pleasant, plodding Sunday lunch. Mabel was brought in by Marlene and Frank and we had a couple of drinks together. I took them up to the flat to see Ally and Samuel. The phone rang at 2 and it was Lynn to say they are coming too. They arrived at 3 after Frank and Marlene had helped Charlie to clear up. After our cousins departed Lynn told us she is expecting baby Baker number three in August. Such a surprise though we did know that they wanted further issue. They must surely want a boy now. David let Thomas, as a name, out of the bag. We showed them over the place and had a drink downstairs. Frances is a quiet, serious little thing. Katie is of a more robust disposition. 

Charlie opened at 7 and I joined him at 8.

Takings: (B) £129, (L) £155.

-=-

Saturday February 18, 1984

The lounge bar: carry-out jugs

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds 11

Sunshine. L. Gledhill was here for 10 o'clock. He breezed in very cheerful and inspiring. I find him an excellent area manager, so far. This is presumptuous of me because my meetings with him have been somewhat limited. He went off warbling about the delights of his visits to provincial France and on his way to buy a William Russell Flint print. I hung up plastic carry-out jugs, and busied myself as pub managers do. John and Janette appeared as 12 which smashed a hole in Ally's planned agenda. The shopping went to cock. Idleness reigned. Drank with J and J and then Michael Brown and his wonderful father joined us. You can see where Brown gets 'it' from. Ally joined us for a martini but kept floating off upstairs. The girls went out shopping at 4 leaving John and I with Samuel for an hour or so. John held his nephew for the first time. He does so miss his own children. I opened up 'early doors' and worked on my own for an hour. John went back to collect Chris Ratcliffe and they came back at 8:30. I felt done in and exhausted and they 'overstayed their welcome' as Ally says, and we didn't get rid of them until almost 2am. They had a guided tour of the cellars, &c. Samuel squealed until dawn. Bless him.

Takings: (B) £201, (L) £155.

--=-

Friday February 17, 1984

 Full Moon

Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11

Samuel woke gurgling at 5:30. Now more vociferous, as if he's trying to talk to us. What do they think, these babies? 

Brown.

No time to write a diary, but to stop would kill me. A card arrived from the YP saying my copy neg. of Bessie is ready and so at 3:30 Ally and I went over to the YP to collect it. Saw Penny Falkingham, who never changes. Went upstairs and found Kathleen alone (Sarah is off with one of her heads). Kathleen was busily destroying ancient news cuttings. Her 'auntie' lives hundreds of feet up in the clouds in one of the flats looking down on the Moorhouse. She says she's too busy to call in on us. Eileen Jones and Michael Brown were in the office. Michael says he meets his papa at the Moorhouse every Saturday lunch. Dave Bruce, the idiot, made fun of my haircut and sagging gut.

Back at 5:15. No visit from Oliver Smith. I expect one at any moment. I'm told that he usually drops in on new managers disguised as a vagrant alcoholic. 

News: The Mark Thatcher 'Oman' deal is causing something of a stink. 

Takings: (B) £240 (L) £176.

-=-

Thursday February 16, 1984

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds, &c

The alarm sounded at 7:30 but I switched off and slept until 8 then crept down to the cellar leaving Ally and Samuel to sleep. The Kenmare lady arrived (fruit machines). Back upstairs and it was bathtime for baby. Karen says that Samuel is my double, but I cannot see it. He is just a little pug. Breakfasts are now a thing of the past. Too busy to savour our morning repast as in the golden days of yesteryear. Still, we enjoy the pace of it all. We cannot say life is boring. Ally did the pub lunches for the first time unaided. We took £11.10. 

Sarah phoned in hysterics. Kathleen's old auntie with whom she lunches every day lives in one of the flats looking down on our pub. For some reason Kathleen has heard from Betty in photo sales, and now thinks that I don't want her to know. 

I am feeling my feet now. _______. Margaret and Karen worked tonight. They say the customers know I mean business when I clear the place for 10:55pm. Let's keep it up. Knackered. Upstairs, Samuel has wailed all night. Sat watching Robin Day's programme with my feet up, and sandwich in hand. To bed after 12.

Takings: (B) £209, (L) £128

-=-

Wednesday February 15, 1984

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11

Fog continuing. I slept through Samuel's middle of the night feed and change. Was up at 7:30 and pottered around in the cellar, minus wellies, and had soggy feet. Plenty of staff in today - the Pirie's traditional day off. They (the Piries) called in from Ossett on their way to Aberdeen just to be nosey. Bev couldn't resist one last look at the place. They were positively vitriolic about C____ and accuse him of all their recent stock problems. It is too early to say, but I do think it is suspicious. We have two pheasants and a turkey of Bev's in our freezer.

Samuel is becoming sturdy. I fell to sleep nursing him at lunchtime. The poor lad's scratched his nose with a sharp finger nail and now looks like Chris Finnegan. Went at 4 to Bradford and filled the car with more Club St artefacts. Vallences have posted some rubber washers to the house and I can now get the washing machine plumbed in. Hurray. Deep fog. Back to Leeds. Lots of staff tonight. I stayed upstairs and watched 'Minder'. I am not at peace with the noise below, and am never at ease away from the bars. The responsibility of my new position weighs heavily on my young shoulders. Bed at 12:42. Not exhausted for a change.

Takings: (B) £170, (L) £118.

-=-

Tuesday February 14, 1984

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

Valentine's Day

Fog. I got a Valentine's Day card from my precious, but I didn't do likewise to her. Shameful of me. My love for her hasn't waned at all  since the distant days of '79 or '80. In fact it's stronger. 

The Daily Telegraph leads with the royal baby pushing aside Mrs T's visit to the horrid Mr Andropov's planting. A good thing too. We have no royal birthdays in September as far as I can see. The Duke of Fife, Capt Phillips and Angus Ogilvy maybe, but none of the blood (royal).

Vallance's send our washer, microwave and dryer but drop them without fixing them in. Tonight I worked with Charlie. We are told he is shifty and 'over-sexed'. My presence must have been too much for him because he gave a weeks notice. Suspicious if you ask me. Obviously, I jumped at his resignation with glee even if it means we will be short staffed at our busiest times. Jill and Tim came for a short while just to inspect the place. A tart called Edna sat at the bar drinking pints of mild and cracking revolting jokes. Strangely, she is quite amusing.

Takings: (Bar) £138, (Lounge) £90

-=-

Monday February 13, 1984

 Moorhouse Inn, Moor Crescent, Leeds

Moorhouse Inn.

Day one at the Moorhouse. We drove away from Club Street at 9 leaving it in a state of dereliction. Fog and frost. The pub was upside down and Pickford's removal men were sat around drinking tea. Ron was taking stock. A £123 defecit. Oh, shit. Here we go again. Les  Gledhill came breezing in whistling an old Everly Brothers tune. He inspected Ally and Samuel and told us that 'Princess Diana is pregnant again.' Very good. I expect we'll have a September princess. Ally can do no food because Samuel insists on feeding continuously. Maureen cooked. We paid out £37 for frozen sausages, &c, and took £4.10 in food orders. I suppose it's a start. Les is worried about the stocktake and says we will soon have metred optics. I think he suspects that the Piries have been fiddling. Ron certainly does. They had left by 3pm. Mum and Dad came at 1:30 and made another run back to Bradford for more possessions. They are so cheerful and good. I do not know what we would have done today without them. We sat and had fish and chips in the spacious, empty flat, and I went down to the bar from 5:30 to 11pm. My feet ache, but I am contented. The lounge bar is pleasant but quiet, but the back bar is going to have to be watched carefully. Some rough diamonds, but not malicious. Mum and Dad stood at the bar for two or three hours and tittered together. Rob Piper came to offer support. Fagged out by 11:15 but feel better now I am here in residence. We are going to have to persevere. We are told that staff hours have to be cut to 80 hours a week, and it looks as if our Wednesday off is gone for a Burton. Ally did the tills and we are now laid on the bed at 1:26am. Ally is cheerfully feeding Samuel.

Takings: (Bar) £165, (Lounge) £117.

-=-

                 

Sunday February 12, 1984

 5, Club St, Lidget Green

6th Sunday after Epiphany

Lincoln's Birthday

Ally woke me at 3am. I was in a heavy sleep. Samuel was sucking his fingers greedily. We put him in disposable nappies now until the new washing machine is installed at the Moorhouse on Tuesday. Baby's complexion is especially 'rosy'.

The PM is going to Andropov's funeral in Moscow. Reagan is sending Bush. The Princess of Wales is on a one day solo visit to Norway. Her last foreign visit without the Prince of Wales was to Monaco for that tragic funeral in 1982. 

It is our very last day as free citizens at Club Street, not governed by the restrictions of the licensing laws. Our last day without the smell of beer and stale tobacco hanging like a cloud over our heads. Yet we face our new responsibilities with courage, pride and humility. Praise be to God on high for our salvation from destitution and for our deliverance into the hands of Samuel Smith's, a most munificent family of brewers. 

5, Club Street

A day of furious industry. We were up very early to pack. We like to pretend that we are not leaving Club Street and that we are simply saying 'bye for now', but deep down inside we know that things will never be the same again. John and Janette came with David B's trailer and John and I made two runs over to the Moorhouse with beds and a wardrobe. The Piries were in a state of pandemonium. I bet that Mrs P can be particularly nasty and malicious. She is an Aussie and he is from Scotland, from Ballater close to Balmoral. Met Maureen and Charlie, the supposedly reliable barman.  Back to Bradford. John very bemused by it all - pub life. Karen, Steve and Hayley (a big, chubby baby) were at Club St stitting around on tea chests. Next to arrive were Marlene and Frank, from a flea market, both happy and gay. Lasagne. John and Janette left and we sat observing the devastation, but decided to leave it and go to bed. Foolish, but nice. Sarah phoned from Delia's. 

Here endeth a chapter in the great Rhodes saga.

-=-

Saturday February 11, 1984

 5, Club St, Lidget Green, Bradford

Samuel was fed at 3 and then he went back to sleep until after 7. By 8 Ally was in the bath having decided to go to Marita's shop. Should we also call in on Sarah? I think so. We bundled Samuel into the car and went to Horsforth and spent hours at MM's shop sitting in a cupboard talking about mattresses. We bought one for £99 - a King size thing. Marita joined us carrying a cucumber (!) and they both cooed over Samuel, who was dressed entirely in blue. _________. From MJM Furnishings we walked to Kerry Hill but Sarah was out. I scratched a message in chalk on a flagstone in the garden telling her we had been. We bombed off back to Bradford and parked near the market so that Ally could jog down to Vallances to buy a micro-wave oven at £154.90, on the never never, of course. Samuel decided to wail for food, and I sat with my finger in his mouth for almost an hour until Ally came back to the car. Samuel was unsettled for hours afterwards and Ally gave him a dose of 'Nurse Harvey's' which calmed him.

Later the Aldersons came, both full of cold, to inspect the baby, but he wailed throughout and they left deafened after 10 minutes. Catherine mentioned that Jean's baby has been back in hospital and so Ally phoned her to say we will go over. This we did at 8. Jean's parents are in residence there. Hannah and Samuel were put on a pine table in the kitchen and photographed together. Our baby is much bigger. I inspected David's new dormer bedroom --- pokey. Home for 9. Samuel still unhappy. I washed woollen pullovers and 16 nappies. We should have been packing but couldn't be bothered. I phoned John at Horton to remind him to come here tomorrow, and Karen phoned to say they will come to inspect the baby, and then we went to bed at 11. 

-=-

Friday February 10, 1984

 5, Club St, Lidget Green

Up with the larks and dressed in sombre, sober attire to await the ebullient L. Gledhill. We sat in the bedroom cooing over Samuel until LG arrived at 8:30. We went over to the Moorhouse. LG is such an easy man to get on with. We didn't talk business other than when he says our allocated staff hours will have to be cut. He didn't say by how many. Oh dear. We cannot complain though. I haven't done a day's work since Christmas Eve and I've been on full pay since. We picked up M. Pirie and inspected the deserted pub_______. On with the lisping Pirie to the court where we trudged through a labyrinth of passageways to find court room no. 6. I went into the box and the protection order was granted and we then went to queue with the riff-raff paying their fines to pay the £4 for my licence which took over an hour. It was quite wrong that we should have been made to line up with the rapists, bigamists, and arsonists in this way. L. Gledhill was livid. I said goodbye to him until Monday and walked down to the YP where I saw Betty in photo sales and gave her a 1928 pic of Bessie which I am having copied for Ally. Home for 12:30. 

Sue and Samuel.

On the bus home I opened my Daily Telegraph and gasped in amazement. Harold Macmillan, who is 90 today, has accepted an earldom. How splendid. I suppose the old boy has done it to ensure a place for his son Maurice in the upper house. Is it the first earldom to be created since Avon or Snowdon? One day I feel sure that our beloved PM will be Countess of Finchley, or Countess Thatcher of Grantham. This will solve the problem of what style she will take on accepting the Garter. Dame Margaret Thatcher, KG sounds odd, but the letters KG tagged after a peerage would be fine. All this is in the far distant future anyway. In other news, Yuri Andropov is dead. Kidney disease. Who will succeed? The Ruskies lean towards ageing geriatric leaders for some reason. Bring back the Tsar, that's what I say.

At home Ally was going about with a duster and vacuum cleaner. She then went out to draw her family allowance. We ate fish and chips. Over to Guiseley at 5 o'clock. To Lynn's then Sue's and then back to Lynn's. Sue is so hospitable and normal. Christopher sat on Samuel thinking he was a toy. ________.

-=-

Thursday February 9, 1984

 Waltergarth, Station Rd, Horton-in-Rbblesdale

The Crown, Horton-in-Ribblesdale.

Another sunny day, and warmer. Samuel had a good night and was horribly dirty today. A most unbelievable batch of nappies. We blame the sheep's head broth. The five of us went for a long walk again and pushed the pram for a couple of miles into the hills. So very peaceful. Back in the village for 2 where we sat on a bench outside the Crown Inn for an hour. The pub was barren. As usual the conversation turned to _________. It is now common-place. Mum and Dad agree to come over on Monday to assist at the Moorhouse. Aren't they good? Phoned Les Gledhill who said he will pick me up at 8:30 tomorrow to go to Leeds for my protection order. He's such an amiable fellow. 

Merrily home to Waltergarth for 'luncheon' which we didn't eat until 4pm. Samuel always has hysterics at meal times. We sat before a blazing fire afterwards and then packed the car. Power cut. Fumbled for candles and then said goodbye to Mum and Dad in the flickering twilight. They have loved seeing Samuel. We were back at Club Street within the hour. The power cut stretched down as far as Skipton. We had cups of tea and sprawled. Our tummies are upset. Yesterday's sheep, or today's pig? 

Bed. Peace. Snores.

-=-

Wednesday February 8, 1984

 Waltergarth, Station Rd, Horton-in-Ribblesdale

Walking at Horton.

Cold, but brilliant sunshine. Samuel slept until 6:30, excellent. I woke with a thick head and staggered around like a zombie. _____. 'Full English' with Mama and Papa. She is decidedly thinner and is eating less. Both seem content with the life they now lead. Afterwards, wrapped up like sherpas, we set out with the pram and pushed Samuel through Horton and up to (gap in manuscript) and back around to Waltergarth for 2pm. Wonderful, scenic. We all arrived back glowing. All says that recently my eyes look 'weak'. Looking in the mirror I do look old and and eyes are strained with red circles around them. Ally thumbed through the Marshall Ward catalogue and then slept in the chair with Samuel piled on top of her. I read old copies of the Daily Telegraph. viz: The Duke of Beaufort's obit; a Lebabon pull-out; a man has walked in space for the first time without a line connecting him to the spacecraft. 

A roaring coal fire blazed throughout. Samuel didn't settle after his country walk and constantly fed until bedtime. At 5 we ate sheep's head broth and dumplings. This is an ancient Wilson recipe, close to extinction. Mum begged Ally to take the recipe and keep it going because Lynn and Sue don't want to know. Ally is tired out and deadly quiet. Tiredness makes her vicious. We watched the news and then 'Minder' and then more news. The Queen attended the (Duke of Beaufort's) funeral at Badminton this afternoon. It was shown on the BBC news. The new duchess is a daughter of the Marquis of Bath you know. One of the Thynnes. To bed with the 'Dalesman'. I was too tired to look at it. __________.

-=-

Tuesday February 7, 1984

 5, Club Street, Lidget Green

Got out of bed at 3:18am to find a gale blowing outside and snow falling again. We have only just got rid of the last lot. This isn't all. At 7:30 the house was icy cold and the radiators were cold. Yes, the pilot light had blown out and it's a swine to re-light. We huddled around the gas fire like families did in the cold, far-off days of Mr Heath's premiership when all power was switched off for weeks at a time. I phoned a plumber - Grighton (?) & Wright - then at 9:30 I walked to Toller Lane to see a police inspector about my qualifications regarding the Moorhouse Inn appointment. I signed my name to a sheet of paper and then walked home. Sunshine. Phoned Papa who says the snow at Horton has all but gone. (Ally had phoned Mum earlier and she had said it was Arctic-like and that rockhopper penguins were nesting on Station Rd, &c.). We kept a vigil for the plumber who arrived at 1. It took a blow-lamp to get our pilot light aflame. He ran in with his torch as if he was opening the winter olympics. At 3:30 we headed out to Horton-in-Ribblesdale. The car piled high with luggage. Found Mum and Dad well. Fish for dinner and glasses of beer. They cooed over Samuel and we were pushed quietly into the background. Old photographs came out. To bed at 11-plus. Samuel didn't sleep until after midnight.

-=-

Monday February 6, 1984

 Chillandham Cross, Itchen Abbas, &c

Hideous rain. Stayed in bed until 9:30 whilst Ally bedecked Samuel in his finery. He is the Yves St Laurent of the baby world. Breakfasted with Bessie who is much recovered from her 'flu. She thanked us for being such a tonic. She stuffed a £10 note in my hand for Samuel. We left at 12:30 after Bessie had snapped another two dozen photos of 'Matthewel', as she accidentally calls him. For many years Alison and Andrew have also been 'Gralison' and 'Grandrew'. Graham has always been Graham. Favouritism. 

Frank, Bessie and Samuel.

Heavy rain on the journey home. Hit Bradford for 5pm. I unlocked the door and then went down to get a haircut. At the barbers I found a queue of six GPO employees awaiting short back and sides, and like a fool I sat and waited until 7. By the time I hit the chair my hair, bushy and flowing, was now down below my knees. I used my time reading a tatty, warm, thumbed Daily Express. The Duke of Beaufort died yesterday in his 84th year. HM will be beside herself with grief. 'Master' as he was known by the Royal Family, has been Master of the Queen's Horse since 1936, and was the last surviving Knight of the Garter to be been dubbed outside the reign of Elizabeth II. He was of course married to Lady Mary Cambridge, niece of Queen Mary. HM has reigned for 32 years today. President Reagan is 73. The Hon Mark Vestey has been crippled in a hunting accident.In 1976 he married Rosie Clifton, an old flame of the P of W. Thus, I was placed into the barber's chair, in the dead of night, thinking of the coming Badminton Horse Trials without old Beaufort in charge. 

On my arrival home the house was like a scene in downtown Beirut. Ally struggling with Samuel who hadn't stopped wailing since arriving home. I made sandwiches and pots of tea and we looked at some splendid new photos just back from being developed. I have a note from Bradford police to contact them re my occupation of the Moorhouse Inn and I am fixed for an interview at Toller Lane at 9am tomorrow. I phoned Mabel to cancel lunch tomorrow. Auntie with Marlene and Frank plan to come and see us on Friday February 17. We retired to bed at 10, but Samuel wanted none of it and squealed hideously until midnight. ___________.

-=-