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.

-=-