Full Moon
Moorhouse Inn, Leeds
Dreary and wet. We were up at dawn to clean the beer lines, polish the brasses, &c. We left Samuel asleep and spent an hour downstairs. At 8:30 we had a cooked breakfast. (Samuel on mashed bananas). Belly laughs at 'Private Eye'. Despite my nationalistic and patriotic bent I do have a great love of irreverence and naughtiness. Even jokes about the Queen.
Sue phoned. She had a few aches and contractions in bed during the night, but isn't doing anything at the moment. The poor girl is niggly and cannot be far off delivery. David, cheerful as ever, called in to collect Ally's summery maternity gowns for Lynn to try on in readiness for Tuesday. He asked: "are we just meeting here (at the Moorhouse) and then going on somewhere afterwards?" Bloody Hell. The pearl wedding party here will be the height of the 1984 social season. The top in Hunslet's social calendar. Poor David. I think he's going funny in the head. On at 3 in the rain to town to buy a present for Mum and Dad. In Laura Ashley Ally bought a little black dress for £19. With white beads and bracelets she'll look superb. I do love her dinky body.
Ally says it's John Pinder's birthday. She is quite oblivious to how old her ex is. Pinder Nason? I think not.
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