Thursday October 25, 1984

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds

My cousin Sam.

A terrible thing has happened. We cleaned the beer lines this morning and let Samuel play in his baby-walker down in the lounge bar. I was up and down to the cellar at regular intervals and closed the door behind me each time, except once, when the boy decided to investigate and he came down the stone steps in his walker landing with a bump at the bottom. He cut his head. Ally and I were in hysterics and took him to the LGI. He needed no stitches - Thank God - but they x-rayed his head and checked his limbs, and sent us away shaken, but relieved. I kept bursting into tears and was rendered useless for the rest of the day. Samuel recovered and played as he usually does but looks so pathetic with a bandage above his eye. Phoned Mum who had a good cry. I must have looked bad because Audrey bought me a Remy (brandy). Feel ashamed at our negligence. My cousin Samuel appeared tonight, quite out of the blue, and he sat at the bar on a stool looking like Ringo Starr. I recognised him immediately. He is a sad figure housed in Shaftesbury House until he can find a place in Leeds. He says he is tired of Cumbria and wants to return to his roots. We had a good natter. That Rhodes humour is very much at the forefront of his personality.

-=-