Moorhouse Inn, Leeds 11
My 29th birthday. Up at 7 feeling awful. Sitting in bed Ally gave me a pink and blue tie and a card with a frog on the front. A card - to 'Daddy from Samuel' - brought a lump to my throat.
A traumatic birthday really. Rob, the stocktaker, came at 8:30, and LG at 9 with the new optics. We have a £142 defecit which was something of a body blow. The loss is in the draught bitter and lager. Mum and Dad went off to Guiseley at 3 and we sat wearily. I worked all evening like a zombie. Margaret bought me a brandy for my birthday and at 10:30 I was heartily glad to go upstairs. John phoned to say 'happy birthday' at 10:45. Poor Ally says I have had an awful birthday but I am contented. I have a son who is beautiful beyond belief and a wife who is an angel.
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