Sunday July 22, 1984

 5th Sunday after Trinity

Moorhouse Inn

The baptism of our son and heir. A fine day with an early start. Ally in her usual panic - flapping. The sandwiches (cut last night) were curling up. Samuel, angelic, slept until he was bedecked in his finery for the service. People gathered for 9 o'clock and we walked to St Peter's and the baptism took place midst the family service. The 1980 alternative service which I very much dislike. Terry Munro is very good and seems to be a decent chap. Vicars can be miserable buggers. I suspect he leans towards the Bishop of Durham. Sam was good to perfection. Wide awake and not a murmur. I held him throughout - Ally, myself, Lynn and D. Glynn at the font. The font is 1965 perspex. Oh dear. No other dippings. Back to the pub at 10:30. Sandwiches and sherry, &c. Dixons and Rhodeses.________. The Pudsey mob came too. People everywhere. We drifted outside. Samuel surrounded by cousins and looking perfect in his satin suit. Mum wasn't on form again. They had all gone by 7 o'clock. Knackered. Upstairs with just Mama and Papa. Bed. Bliss.

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