Moorhouse Inn, Leeds
15th Sunday after Trinity
J.P.H. is eight today. He is a pleasant little lad. Last night we came back from Pudsey and after several glasses of wine Ally fell into bed complaining of numb legs. How odd. Then, at 11:30 after Mavis had gone, I set to and cleaned the place from top to bottom. Swabbing out the toilets was a ghastly experience, but by 3am I had finished. Ally was still clothed and flat out on the bed. She beamed when I informed her that the magic fairy had cleaned the pub.
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| Pete, Sue & Christopher. |
So, at 8am Ally was up bright and gay (yes, I refuse to steer clear of this word simply because it's been hijacked by the likes of the Greenham Common lesbians and Quentin Crisp). Ally phoned Sue and asked her to join us on a trip to Horton, then she she phoned Mama. We left at 11 collecting the Nasons en route. Sue and I were bundled together with the three babies in the back. Christopher was violently sick near Settle and we arrived at Horton covered with a carrot pebble-dash. Parents are well. We had a large lunch. Relaxed afterwards. Children dominate so. I slept - collapsed in a chair like an old grandad. Home at 8. We crept in and went to bed with the pub heaving below. Exceptionally tired.
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