Moorhouse Inn, Leeds
Catherine, my niece, is 5. _______. It's five years then since Ally and I were in bed at Pine Tops when John phoned with the news.
To hospital this afternoon with Samuel to see Susie. Baby slept on the bed to the screams of delight from the other 'inmates'. Susan was well, but bored. She doesn't read anything. Surely, this is our last visit?
Michael Brown was here at luncheon with his father. They were supping mild and complaining about the colour of the Old Brewery bitter. I made a quick exit. These real ale drinkers are as temperamental as ballerinas.
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