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.
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| 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
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