Moorhouse Inn, Leeds
My poor great-uncle John Edward Rhodes was killed in action upon this day in 1918. He was a private in the Royal Fusiliers, but as to where he met his glorious end I do not know. My knowledge of the Great War is nil other than that I know it kicked off in 1914 and ran through until 1918 and that we won. Mrs Lane would be proud of me.
We had eggs and bacon with Sue and Peter and the children and hung around for the morning. Christopher slobbered over the two others in a most overpowering fashion. Kissing and cuddling like members of the England cricket team. They went at 11 leaving us surrounded by debris and devastation. Quite appropriate for the anniversary of Hiroshima.
The sombre Karen worked solo tonight. Ally and I stood at the bar whispering together. Sweet nothings, &c. Rob Piper and his Scottish friend came in. The Scottish friend is married to a Longbottom from St James's Cresent (Pudsey). We spent an hour with them and they left at 10:20 to get back to the Butcher's Arms for last orders. Pushing it a bit. Rob has a new Italian car which Ally went out and inspected. Old Harold told me of an encounter he had with the former Lord Lieutenant (of West Yorkshire) Brigadier Hargreaves, who he says owned all the coal mines in Leeds before nationalisation. The chap (Harold) is a crashing snob.
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