Thursday December 5, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

A sad note in a Christmas card from Edna and Nellie this morning. Dad's cousin Vera Dean, 76, was struck by a car and killed on Nov 24 when leaving church in Bramley. She was on a pelican crossing . She has a brother, Arthur Dean, 73, and is the only daughter of Polly Dean (née Ross), sister of my great-grandmother, Christiana Rhodes (née Ross). We sat in bed with tea and biscuits. Dad was very saddened and he phoned Edna, who filled him in with the details. We went out. Wet, fog, drizzle. We bought a potted Christmas tree for  fiver. In the hustle and bustle of Leeds Market Dad says Dickens characters abound, and looking around they most certainly do. Dad loathes cities, especially Leeds, which he finds squalid. At 3:30 we went down and decorated the (Christmas) tree in the lounge and put up lights. Samuel's face was a picture. He sand 'Happy Birthday' at full throttle for some reason. _________.A night off. Dave L phoned from South Elmsall. He spoke about bees and aquaria, &c. Very chatty. He says he's coming here at Christmas with MM & Marita.

-=-

Wednesday December 4, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

Wet. Sue phoned at breakfast and spoke to Ally. She's suffering from morning sickness too. Dad appeared at 11am and went up for a coffee with Ally. She went to her hairdresser in Bradford and when she came back she looked groomed and healthier. I worked until Liz came in at 8:30 from her cleaning job at Schofield's or Lewis's. She thinks she is three months pregnant______. Mad Scots were in the tap room celebrating their win, or draw, over Australia, to put them through to next years World Cup in Mexico. Dad walked up the road and bought Chinese take-aways (£10 for three), and we dined upstairs at 8:30. Dad says that Janette is planning the wedding for March 14. He is doing nothing for Christmas. All his descendants are to receive a fiver. No Christmas tree at Horton, and he's sending no cards. Very sad. He has lost his spirit.

-=-

Tuesday December 3, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

Samuel and his grandad

Poor little Samuel must wonder what is the matter with mummy. When should she see a doctor? She says she'll see one at 12 weeks which takes us to January 1st. I went over to Hunslet and had a haircut. Samuel found a little girl to play with in the barbers. It's obvious how outgoing he is. A little leader. The girl was at least twice his age and yet he bossed her about. This afternoon we completed our Christmas cards - 41 or so, and Ally wrapped presents. Samuel and I climbed into the bath together. He washed my knees and I washed his. I worked from 5:30. People had to wait. The British are famed for queuing aren't they? It was quiet. I managed nicely. Dad phoned to say he will come for a couple of days. He seemed concerned at Ally's condition.

-=-

Monday December 2, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

Ally nauseous and completely washed out. I went down at 5:30 and did both bars on my own whilst Ally lay above. It was quiet. Pool knockout. A lad from 'the Cut' brought me a garden gnome. Wernher keeps a list for Audrey tomorrow. He'll have to go. 

John & Janette (1985)

Janette phoned this morning. People can ring in but we cannot ring out. Hopeless really. She wanted a copy of John's birth certificate because he's insuring her and Charlotte Nora___________and cannot find his copy. I do not have one and suggest Maria. She went on to say that she and John had been discussing 'the wedding' last night with the 1986 diary, and they plan to marry at Leeds Register Office in March. The thirteenth of that month will be the 10th anniversary of his marriage to Maria. Surely, this month is a bad omen? Janette has also spoken to Dad. 

-=-

Sunday December 1, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

1st Sunday in Advent

Sam (1985).

Ding Dong Merrily on High, &c. December is here. Oh God what an awful month. I used to laugh when Hilda went on and on in days gone by about all the morbid anniversaries that this month held, but now we have our own, Dec 17, the day last year when Mum went into Airedale. Ally had a poor morning and grew worse as the day went on. No staff at lunch and so she joined me in the bar, and last until 2. Very pale. So weary. So little I can do. I made sausages and mash for lunch. Ally likes stodge. On the TV we watched The Count of Monte Cristo starring Richard Chamberlain and then the poor Prince of Wales going on and on about inner cities. I do hope he isn't doing too much. Samuel missed his footing on the stairs this morning and went for a Burton. Bruised now. He hasn't taken to his advent calendar which features Santa Claus. He kept jabbing Ally's hand saying 'no like, no like', but insisted on looking closely into the red, bearded face (Santa's, not Ally's). Mags and me tonight. Chris Wills called in and stood with Frank Munro. _____.

-=-

Saturday November 30, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

St Andrew's Day

The Moorhouse Inn.

British Telecom! Don't make me bloody laugh. They connected us to a new appliance nearly two weeks ago and we are still waiting for a connection. St Andrew, &c. Sir Winston Churchill is 111. Quiet and cold. Ally is very bad with Tubby II. Heartburn and constant nausea. The mornings are better than the rest of the day, when she grows steadily worse. She reclined on the settee, looking white. Samuel says 'Mummy sick' and looks concerned. Poor boy. He doesn't understand. Playing with his toys he looked up and said: "don't want baby", and then repeated it. What must be going through his mind? I hugged him and said: "You will always be my baby". 

I told Margaret about the draconian 'No Booze Behind the Bar' ban. Much whispering with the customers, and some became heated on the subject. Some are far too willing to force alcohol on my bar staff and part with precious money. Weird. Pam Newton was very sweet about our baby news.

-=-

Friday November 29, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

The Moorhouse.

Back to the delights of Leeds 11 and the Moorhouse Inn. Paul was very quiet and uncommunicative. No major incidents in our absence. No sudden deaths &c. LG called on Tuesday to ask when we would be back, re the bad stock, and we expected him today. The mad stock taker appeared at 10:30. We would have returned later if we had known. In fact we arrived at 8:30. Frosty, even snow. As I suspected, Paul's stock take showed an £80 deficit. So, up in the office we had an inquest and LG appeared. Much analysing and scratching of heads, and poking at old till rolls, &c. Ally lost her patience with them all. Here we do not have thieving staff - only chronic, ineffectual stock takers. Despite everything LG was in a good mood. Relief manager Paul pissed off to Rochdale where a manager, harassed and fed-up, pissed off this morning without so much as a 'kiss my arse' to the brewery. We told Audrey and the customers assembled this afternoon of our baby news. We only made such an early announcement because Ally looks obviously struck down with something, and we don't want rumours and speculation.

-=-

Thursday November 28, 1985

Bessie in her kitchen.

 Chillandham Cross, Itchen Abbas SO21 1AS

Cold and frosty. Frank stayed at home until 10:30 to see us because his appearances have been fleeting since Sunday. Samuel takes to him like a duck to water. F & B have been pleasantly surprised by Samuel's behaviour. Bessie hasn't had to move glassware, china or ornaments this time. Ally is a Dixon and clashes with her mother, and is easily irritated by her and some of the things she does. I find it annoying. I want a peaceful life. We lunched on stodgy Fray Bentos 'individual' steak pies, and left at 3 o'clock. Andrew pranged his car on the way home for lunch and caused a five car pile-up. He cut his hand, only lightly, and looked shaken. Home at 7:30. Sam was an angel all the way home. Phoned Bessie and Dad. We had a Chinese take-away, and we three slept together in the same bed.

-=-

Wednesday November 27, 1985

  Chillandham Cross, Itchen Abbas

Winchester.

Crisp and even, but not deep. By crisp I mean frost. To Winchester. More Yuletide shopping. It had to be done. Bessie joined us, but the mission proved fruitless and we returned later leaving Samuel with his 'Gammy', as he calls her. If people bought us the quality sort of presents that we buy them I would be very happy indeed. Sadly, I know only too well that the packs of socks from Otley Market (seconds) and Hai Karate aftershave are winging their way from Santa Claus to me. Frank in London all day, and all night in fact. Bessie is counting the days until Frank retires in Sept '87. ______. The trundle of food is giving Aly nightmares.

-=-

Tuesday November 26, 1985

 Chillandham Cross, Itchen Abbas

Ally was collapsed by the fire looking like the young wife in 'David Copperfield'. Is she 'Dodie' or 'Dulcie' or something? However, we struggled out to look at the shops. Winchester doesn't seen troubled by mass unemployment. Every other shopper looks like a dowager viscountess. We spent a lot of money we do not possess and staggered back to the car. Frank nowhere to be seen tonight. He was at Rotary or the Round Table, or whatever. ___________. I'm reading a Sidney Sheldon book from Frank's study. A naughty little volume featuring lesbian rape in prison, &c.

-=-

Monday November 25, 1985

 Chillandham Cross, Itchen Abbas

Chillandham Cross.

The mornings at Chillandham Cross never vary. We go downstairs to a groaning breakfast table, piled high, and always eat in the kitchen. Bessie has always half-cooked the bacon, &c, to prevent us from breakfasting simply on toast. Afterwards we went into town and poked around in the shops. Bessie came too. She is looking for curtain material featuring birds and flowers for the new lounge, which looks impressive. Chandelier lighting. Our Christmas present to them is going to be a Sam Chadwick print entitled 'Cloud Down Over Ingleborough' which will go well in the new west wing. Tonight the usual Edwardian-style dinner. But ridiculous because only Bessie and I were eating. A tin of soup would have done. This time Ally finds the smell of anything and everything offensive. This baby is going to be a little belter.

-=-

Sunday November 24, 1985

 Waltergarth, Horton-in-Ribblesdale

Sunday next before Advent

The view from Waltergarth.

Dear Uncle Albert's 90th birthday. Dad has talked much about him this weekend. He says Uncle Albert worshipped Mum. _______. We had eggs and bacon, packed up and left for 11am. It is always touching leaving Horton. Dad blinking back tears in front of that old apple tree.________. Dad insists he cannot live alone. He has spoken of his parents and his father's love for his mother but complains that his father 'never told me what it was like to lose someone'. Grandfather of course was a man of few words who kept his emotions well buried. On the road we stopped at Watford Gap (or before) and ate in the restaurant.Steak and kidney pie, &c. Samuel sat at the table very grown up. The half hour break did Ally good. To Chillandham Cross for 5:30. We had cups of tea and I waited for a long time for Ally to tell her parents our good news. When she did the response was mediocre. No popping champagne corks. Frank, in his office, looked over his specs, and told Bessie that he already knew just by the look on Ally's face. We ate grilled steaks and watched 'Fawlty Towers' and retired to bed.  I borrowed a Sidney Sheldon book from Frank. Ally is having such a dreadful holiday. Weary, sick, &c. God knows how she will cope back at the pub , if we have a pub to go back to.

-=-

Saturday November 23, 1985

 Waltergarth, Horton-in-Ribblesdale

Horton-in-Ribblesdale.

Too wet and cold to go out. Dad still suffering with a cold. Ally, Sam and I walked to the post office. Ally in her red Queen Mother-styled hat. Such fun. Afterwards, Ally slept by the fire and Dad and I had a few beers reminiscing again. He showed me Mum's brief 1984 diary - just bookings and birthdays, &c. We had roast chicken by candlelight. When Ally and Sam had gone to bed Dad and I watched a Jack Nicholson/Jessica Lange film. (The Postman Always Rings Twice?).
Naughty, but entertaining. Bed at 12. Dad has enjoyed having us here.

-=-

Friday November 22, 1985

 Waltergarth, Horton-in-Ribblesdale BD24 OHW

Another historic day. A watershed in our tiny, though expanding family. To Settle. We had fish and chips in the car. Ally looking peaky. To Helwith Bridge for a pint, but Samuel (in his yellow suit) went on the rampage, and Dad dragged him outside. A cat was snuggling up to keep warm on our car bonnet. It was bitterly cold. Peacocks strutted around the car park, &c. Home for 2. We waited by the fire for 4:30, the magic hour when Ally phoned the medical centre. I was a nervous wreck. I dialled the wrong number and found herself speaking to someone from the water authority, and eventually got through to the Dr Goebbels-like secretary of Dr Sykes, who seemed to derive some enjoyment in delaying giving out the result. "Your sample is positive". Ally asked her to repeat it, and the secretary asked:  "aren't you pleased"? Of course we are bloody pleased. Much leaping around. So, July 16, 1986, it is. We phoned Lynn and Sue who were thrilled. Lynn came out with: "Oh what a miserable Christmas you are going to have". John wasn't home. Sue had hoped to borrow all Ally's maternity wear, but that is now scuppered. The two of us went to the Little House restaurant in Settle at 8. _______________________. A delicious dinner. Steaks, &c. I had Malibu ice-cream with an umbrella. We are still set on Clementine - "Clemmie". Back to see Dad at 10. Samuel was up and eating a banana. Dad enjoys Sam's company.

-=-

Thursday November 21, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

Waltergarth, Horton-in-Ribblesdale.

Rose at 6:30. An early stock take at 8:30 with Ronnie Simpson, for a change. Paul turned up at 9 o'clock. It was a bad stock. We have already written off £154 with the returned OBB, but other losses put it up to £300. Sod them, anyway. We went away at 11 joking that this holiday might be a longer one that we at first thought. Paul says we'll have LG on the doorstep when we return. I don't give a monkeys. For Christ sake I want peace of mind and a quiet life. I might take that old Welsh witch up on one or two points and go to the country, Devon or Cornwall, and breed pedigree cats. We went to Horton via the Anchor at Gargrave, where Ally indulged in steak and kidney pie. I phoned Dad from here. He has a cold and is weary. To Horton for 2pm. A lovely crackling fire. Dad was tired, run down and emotional. He marks the weeks since mum's death on a calendar on the wall. 27 weeks. We told him our news, but it didn't seem to make an impact.I think he suspects we are a little premature in celebrating. Ally is also exhausted and done in. Dad and I went to the Crown Inn at 10pm when Ally and Sam took to their beds. Samantha Fox, with her huge tits, was on TV. We sampled the Theakston's. It was a dark walk home and we went and sat in his bedroom until 2am. He spoke of things I have never heard him talk about before. His national service days in the '50s. He looked over at his typewriter and said he is considering putting down all his thoughts and memories of his life with Mum to leave a last record of his life. He says he has volumes to say which will otherwise die with him. He spoke of his life insurance details and when he saw a look of concern on my face he said: "don't worry, I won't do anything silly." But added: "but I should have died with her". I encouraged him to write. It will do him good. _______.

-=-

Wednesday November 20, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

The idiot who sinks pint after pint of Diet Pils afternoon and night shuffled off his mortal coil on Monday. He had been mixing his drink with tablets.  Silly, pathetic man. Ally took a sample to Beeston Health Centre. She will have the result at 4:30 on Friday. To this our hopes are pinned. Poor Ally is so pale and nauseous & we have no doubt that the result will be positive. ____________. Sam Smiths can sack us now and be damned. It could actually be an omen. Samuel was conceived in the month I took off from the YP and so another baby might signal the start of a new chapter. Nothing to do with employment will ever break my heart. The loss of family overshadows everything and put the insinuations of LG into proper perspective. Liz Melvin told me she is thinking of quitting, and then changed her mind. I cannot be bothered by it all. Ally was in a collapsed heap upstairs after packing up.

-=-

Tuesday November 19, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds, LS11 5NQ

I was visited by an old witch in the guise of a 'true Welsh gypsy' who proceeded to foretell my future whilst standing in the entrance hall. "You will see Devon and Cornwall", she says, and "you have just lost a parent through heart disease or cancer". My wife, she says, will have two children "a son, who will be a footballer, and a daughter who will love me." "Do not trust a Peter or a Tom" she warned. This immediately wipes out half my family and customers here. My luck is "abroad" and I will find "happiness in the country in three years time." Other than my "nerves" I have no health problems. My father, she concluded, will "live to a ripe old age". She then gave six yards of lace, handmade, and charged me £6 for it. It made me very uneasy. One shouldn't knock such old practices by any means. This world holds many peculiarities which cannot readily be answered. Silly, old  'happy mediums' might not all be the devious con artists we think they are. Ally forgot to do a urine sample today and so she will have to go see Dr Sykes with one tomorrow. Fixed the yale lock today.

-=-

Monday November 18, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds, LS11 5NQ

Leslie Gledhill arrived at his usual time - 10:57am - and stood murmuring in the tap room. We are not to be dismissed, though others in our position most certainly have been. Should he have any reason to find fault with my cellars in the future we will be sacked on the spot. He went away leaving me furious. It's a case of be grateful to LG because he has spared us. He showed mercy. Very unfair. I think Maureen probably heard everything. She was lurking with an ice bucket at the top of the stairs. We are expected to serve ale as though nothing has happened, grinning like idiots at our customers and all the while with some hair raising traumas abounding. 

-=-

Sunday November 17, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds, LS11 5NQ

24th Sunday after Trinity

Clown Janette & Chris.

Feel very healthy. I didn't overdo things. MM and Marita called in at lunchtime to say they couldn't make it here last night. They had tried to phone but of course we have been vandalised. They were en route to see Dave L at the LGI, where he under going treatment to prevent bees from killing him. Very odd. Haven't seen Dave L for over a year. Such a pity. Marita asked if "any little Rhodes babies are on the way"? I replied: "you never know". She is something of a mystic is Marita. I bet she knows. Dad stayed to lunch - roast beef - and went to John's at 6pm after destroying our yale lock. ________. Liz and Chris worked again. Last night he was dressed as a Scotsman.

-=-

Saturday November 16, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

Ally was up and gone at dawn to see her dentist, and visit Linfood, &c. She collected our musketeer garb. For a short time last night I almost persuaded Dad to be Porthos, but common sense prevailed. Very cold. Bitter, in fact. We work like stink for this bloody brewery. How many other Sam Smith managers would dress up like 17th century French queers to dispense ale? LG ought to be proud of us. It wasn't a big turn out of people.  (See the photographs). Bakers, Nasons, George & Jayne, Jacq, Ian, Jill, Tim, et al. The usual stalwarts. Dad was a glass collector. Up until 4am. Gary Booth came after. We are invited to Jacq & Ian's wedding on March 22. Lots of bare bums, vicars, tarts, Rabbis and performing clowns.

Fun. _________

Friday November 15, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

Ally has decided that she needs Dad here because she is weary and the 'Fancy Dress Ball' arrangements will be too much. I phoned him at Sue's where he was taking tea and he said he would be here this evening. He can be a glass collector for the night. I had to go to the phone kiosk outside the Canning St Club  because British Telecom (or 'BT' as Jan Leeming likes to say) have ignored my pleas to come and fix my damaged appliance. No staff tonight and I had a few swigs of lager. Dad came here at 7 looking fresh faced and well. We told him of our desperate situation with the brewery and he was appalled. It was a steady night, or so it seemed, but we amassed £300 this evening alone. Had a quiet drink upstairs afterwards.__________.

-=-

Thursday November 14, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

A freezing day. We went into town and Leeds market and I wheeled Samuel around. Ally phoned the brewery and spoke to LG and Ken Gilbertson. She came right out with it and asked LG whether we are now to be sacked. "I doubt it very much", he replied. "I think you have suffered enough". Feel easier. We have always known that this game is precarious. To Homburg's (fancy dress hire). Ally and I are to be musketeers on Saturday. Wigs, &c. "All for One, and One for All" &c. We paid £8 each plus a £20 per person deposit. Margaret worked tonight. On TV: Miss Cleckheaton is the new 'Miss World'. The Prince of Wales, fresh back from Washington, is 37.

-=-

Wednesday November 13, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

LG appeared at 8:30pm. I was upstairs and Chris and Liz were working. Fortunately we were busy. LG was dour. We sat in a corner. Once again he told me the returned barrel of OBB was below specification, and recommends I take a sample to an independent analyst. "I hope you understand the gravity of the situation", he cringed. "Serious questions" need answers, and he asked me, 'sotto voce', whether I want to own up to anything and admit my mistake, all confidentially. The man obviously takes me for an imbecile. No way will I put my head in a noose. Ally was upstairs feeling sick and asked me to invite LG up but he wouldn't be drawn. He later poked around in the cellar and left leaving me down and depressed. I have the distinct feeling that I am going to be sacked. Earlier, the phone in the entrance hall was vandalized as Maureen opened up. Swines.

-=-

Tuesday November 12, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

New Moon

I am eaten away with excitement about Ally and the prospects of another baby. It must be on the cards now. I went down to the cellar at 8am and Ally took Sam to see Dr Sykes, but you know how ineffectual doctors are. He sent her away with a bottle of medicine saying 'he'll eat when he's ready.' Ally asked about herself and he told her to go back in a week. It's all nail biting stuff. Auntie Mabel phoned  and gleefully told us that cousin Jacqueline is engaged to Barry. 

-=-

Monday November 11, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

Ally much better. Our fingers are crossed. I phoned Dad twice yesterday. He'd been to the Crown in Horton on Saturday because 'the Theakston's arrived'. He was concerned about my sickness and offered to come, but I put him off. Sue and the children are going to Horton tomorrow. Samuel still weary. This afternoon I took him to the park and the post office and he wept because I made him walk. He trundled along sluggishly, without his usual bounce. In the park he struggled to climb the slide and asked to be lifted down. Lethargy abounded. Ally is bright and confident of imminent good news and has charted a plan of action should she be pregnant. ________. Sue phoned. They are coming on Saturday in answer to my postcard plea. Tonight, at bedtime, Sam awoke when we banged around upstairs, and was violently sick over the both of us. It's the doctor tomorrow.

World News: The Prince of Wales and 'Princess David' (as Uncle Ron Reagan called her) have taken Washington by storm. They are received with adulation wherever they go. They make a laughing stocks of republics. 

-=-

Sunday November 10, 1985

Queen Mum: poppy the size of a dustbin lid.

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

Remembrance Sunday

Hawkins: awful.

Ally was flat out in bed all morning looking very pale and complaining of griping pains in her tummy. She has the bug I had earlier in the week. Samuel and I made a lot of noise and ate breakfast watching the Cenotaph ceremonies from Whitehall. Samuel found the marching a great joke, but the trumpeters appealed. The Queen, wearing that same old black overcoat, and the Queen Mother up on the balcony (with King Olav) wearing a poppy the size of a dustbin lid, Good old girl.

Tim Elmer's birthday. I don't have a clue how old he is. I went down at 12. Two hours of the Egan's 'grand tour' of Europe. _______. A slothful afternoon. Watched 'Eastenders' at 2. Ally laid upon the settee like a large, pink shrimp. We watched a noisy epic, with an Egyptian theme, featuring Jack Hawkins as the Pharaoh Khufu and Joan Collins as Princess Nellifer. Awful. No staff were planned for this evening , and we didn't of course account for Ally being ill, but Chris appeared at 8:30. A God send. Argued with Jack Collett and Harold about the monarchy and the history thereof. Poor H assumes that because a man was Duke of York (Wars of the Roses) that he was born and bred in the county.

-=-

Saturday November 9, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

Ally and I are convinced that we have managed in these busy, toying weeks to conceive a baby. Ecstatic. We deserve some good news at the end of this hideous, nightmare of a year. _____________. The magic date is July 16, 1986. If only. The coming weeks will reveal all. No staff this lunch. Dead really. Ally went to Guiseley to see Lynn. She phoned the other day after having had a bad week. She had been to see Mum's grave with Frances and Katie. Too hideous. I made pie and peas for the Egans. Much talk of España. They spoke of the flight home. Yesterday we had tales of the flight going out. Sam was violently sick tonight ----- downstairs Chris and Liz worked together for the first time. They did well, though the till was down a fiver. It could be an error, but there again ......

-=-

Friday November 8, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

Samuel looks better and is more lively, but we are watching him closely. Poor boy. He is rarely ill. Have received a snotty letter from LG regarding his visit on Oct 24, setting out the points we were supposed to have discussed. Rubbish. No word as yet about our suspect cask of OBB. Lunchtimes are so diabolically quiet. Because of this we have to cut Audrey's hours from next week. Excitement of a gynaecological nature, though we do not want to build up our hopes. _________.It would just be the thing to be sacked and pregnant. Spent the day seething about LG. He ought to be ashamed of himself. I expect such drivel to come from the mouth of Fran O'Brien, but not from Leslie Gledhill. Perhaps he is unwell? Ally was close to tears but they held off. We have come a long way since the traumas of the Why Not. She sat stoically at the breakfast table saying she'll fight the brewery to the bitter end. What else? Oh yes, we get on much better together in a crisis, and instead of sniping at each other we attack LG instead. Postcards have gone to everyone we can think of regarding a 'party night' set for Nov 16. Hopefully it will be a big turn out. Anita Leslie has pegged out. Her obit. is enclosed herein - a kinswoman of Sir W.S.C.

Just Margaret and I downstairs tonight. She seemed a bit fed up.

-=-

Thursday November 7, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

A restless night. Samuel, restless too, came in with us. I do not think he is 100 per cent. A slight cough. I cleaned the beer lines and got everything ready for a visit from LG, but he didn't appear. I am entirely innocent. I think I will have some T-shirts made with an appropriate slogan. 

Buried in the Court Circular it was announced that the Queen invested the Duke of Kent as a Knight of the Garter yesterday after returning from the State Opening (of Parliament). How nice. He comes in as an extra royal knight. Fancy me being able to go on about an ancient order of chivalry when I'm about to be toppled for allegedly diluting Sam Smiths OBB? Life must go on. 

Miss Collis is 33. I sent a card. She sent me one. She hasn't been here since Oct '84. 

We were visited at 8pm by the police. Just a routine visit. Lynn phoned to see how I was. She had visited the grave and has been depressed all week. Later I phoned Dad just to say 'hello'.

Poor Samuel is 'off colour'. He was sucking his thumb and required a cuddling. Such a sweet child. He plays very well on his own and is currently obsessed with his toy cars which he lines us ip traffic jams on the top of various items of furniture. Buckets too. Last night he sat in the bath with a bucket and a cloth diligently washing the tub. He was violently sick and bedtime and so was disturbed for the remainder of the evening. Crying that he was thirsty. Later, we tucked up in bed together.

Wednesday November 6, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

Crisp sort of day. Blustery though. 

Dad has posted me Mum's Christmas cake recipe. It arrived today. He phoned at 9:30 to ask how I feel and discuss whether he should come. I said no. It was good of him to offer, but there's little he can do here. I am feeling much better. We went to market and came back at 10:50. Leslie Gledhill came. Whispers, whispers. We went into the tap room. He says my returned barrel was well below specification and asks if water can possibly have found its way into the barrel accidentally. I said no. Further checks are going on. He went away. It is a war of nerves. What a fucking cheek. I have a clear conscience anyway. I expected a call tonight but none came. Ah well, it's only a job. We still have each other, Sammy and Club Street, and a large loving family. Much better tonight. Ally and I had a drink. I felt like Nero playing his organ as Athens burned. Liz Melvin worked.

The State Opening of Parliament. The Queen said something about salmon fishing. She went in state to Westminster with the Princess Anne, Mrs Mark Phillips. Where is the captain?

-=-

Tuesday November 5, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

Election Day USA

The chill has gone from my stomach. At bedtime last night I drank a cup of warm milk laced with whisky. This, I think, did me some good. Ally ran around all day like a mad thing and really is a treasure. I just sprawled in front of the fire with Dickie Mountbatten whilst the pub heaved below. In two years I have never been sick. Busy with food. Uncle Peter came but I didn't go down. Sam was very good and sympathised. He kept saying 'Daddy sick', pulling a horrible face too. Ally and Sam went to Guiseley at 4 to Sue's bonfire, but were stuck in a traffic jam near the Yorkshire Post for three hours. A bomb scare. Poor buggers. They arrived at Sue's at 7:15 when the bonfire was nothing but embers. Sam was good in the car and drank pop and guzzled crisps and only cried when hailstones cracked on the roof. I went down much better at 8pm. 

-=-

Monday November 4, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

I woke up feeling well and truly whacked. Ice-cold tummy, weak knees, &c. Slumped around all afternoon like a dying man. Ally thought I was giving one of my Olivier routines, but I was genuinely knackered and in some pain. I am blaming the sausage rolls from the freezer which I foolishly consumed last night whilst glancing at 'Mountbatten' by (Philip) Ziegler. Was violently sick at 3pm and thereafter took to my bed until 8 o'clock when I went below to see poor Ally, who was really good, and realised the gravity of my situation.

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Sunday November 3, 1985

22nd Sunday after Trinity

Ally better. Graham John Dixon is 30. Thomas Elmer was christened at Pudsey Parish Church. After a roast beef lunch and 'Eastenders' omnibus we went to Pudsey. Jill invited us last week to the after party. Eleanor had been invited to the ceremony because Hilda says that auntie has fallen hook, line and sinker for the vicar of St Oswald's Guiseley, who conducted the ritual. Cousin Stephen came in with his 2 year-old daughter, Gemma. Back at 6 to open up. Chris Mawson started work. My God, he's an old 18.

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Saturday November 2, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds, LS11 5NQ

Another hideous day. Ally can be so very unreasonable at times. Elizabeth worked tonight. Ally didn't come down. _____________. Upstairs after closing I devoured 2 Cornish pasties and watched a late film. Ally and Sam were asleep together and so I moved him to his own suite of rooms.

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Friday November 1, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

One shit of a day. Ally was in a foul mood from the start and I was feeling hellish. Then L. Gledhill phoned to say the barrel I returned recently is out of specification, whatever that means, and off he went leaving me hanging in mid-air. I bashed around in the bar threatening resignation. Blood, sweat, toil and tears, &c. We walked to the local 'play group' but they have an eight year waiting list. Poor Samuel will have pubic hair and tattoos before he can join. 

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Thursday October 31, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

Hallowe'en

All Hallows Eve. The new girl Elizabeth Melvin started. She will pick it up, I do suppose. All Crimplene and no finger nails. She lives with her boyfriend and 15 month-old daughter, Clare Louise, and saving to buy a house. She will only take £10 a week from us. In contrast the Daily Telegraph has a stunning photo on the front page of the Waleses waltzing around an Australian ballroom. The princess wearing a priceless emerald and diamond necklace , but as a headband. It is reported to be a gift from HM. Diana never fails to stun the public with her little fashions coups. The Royal Yacht has sailed into Grenada. Isn't that the place the US invaded a couple of years ago at the invitation of the government? I have given up on John Updike. I only ever read exceptional works of fiction, and The Witches of Eastwick isn't one. Don't get me wrong. It will be hailed as a 20th century classic. Twentieth century writers are few and far between. N. Coward, E. Waugh, G. Greene, D. Du Maurier, C. Cookson, J. Collins, &c. (That's enough authors -Ed.)

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Wednesday October 30, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn Leeds LS11 5NQ

Dad went off at lunchtime to Settle via Guiseley and then stonemason. He has withdrawn £280 from his TSB account to pay for the stone. He has of course provided for this. I have been feeling very low. I could scream and bang my head against a wall. What is the bloody point of our existence? Ally phoned Bessie to enquire about the proposed weekend there with Lynn & Dave. Oh, no. The weekend in question is the Rose Growers dinner in Jersey and they'll be away. Never mind. Bessie was gloomy. Andrew and Lorraine have announced that they are buying a house and setting up home together in the New Year - a union sealed only by an engagement ring. F & B are both livid and say they are "old fashioned". Odd, eh? They were not old fashioned in the past with other family events _________ (sensitive redaction). I do not mean to be unkind. Just Ally and I tonight. A women's choir came in. I recognised a face. It was Margaret Edwards from my old Benton Park days. What a frumpy thing she looks, but on chatting with her she most certainly isn't. 

Other news: An inquiry into the recent spy trial has been ordered. Less said. The future Sir Lester Piggott had his last race yesterday. He has ridden 3,349 winners. Charles Douglas-Home, editor of 'The Thunderer' died yesterday. He was a nephew of Sir Alec Douglas-Home, and was heir presumptive to the heir apparent to the Earldom (of Home), and a first cousin of John, Earl Spencer, MVO.

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Tuesday October 29, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn Leeds LS11 5NQ

Uncle Peter.

We discuss the proposed movements for our holiday next month. Lynn and Dave want a weekend without the children at Winchester and so we suggest Nov 22/23. They will ask Audrey if she can cope with the three. I think that Dad would manage better. The Christmas programme has also cropped up. Dreaded Christmas. The first one without the woman who was Christmas epitomised. Mum was Santa Claus, the Christmas fairies, and the Queen's message rolled into one. Dad has said he wants to come here because he can be more useful while we are working. Lunch was busier. Ally and Dad stood in the bar. Someone came in and remarked on Dad's youthful looks. Mum and Dad were always the youngest looking grandparents. Uncle Peter appeared and we all had a morbid conversation about graves, Uncle Albert's death and Uncle John Wilson's tenure as president of Pudsey Conservative Club, &c. He asked whether we selected the spot for Mum's grave because he thought it was in a strange place, tucked away in a corner. Mum, of course, would have wanted a quiet spot. I do not think Dad and Peter are on the same wave length at all. News: the £5m Cyprus spy trial has resulted in a man's acquittal. Deaths include Lord Davis of Leek, a Leftie. Births include a son to Alexander and Joanna Haddo (Earl & Countess?), so a grandson for Lord Aberdeen & Temair. The Queen and Duke of Edinburgh arrived in Bridgetown yesterday. It that Barbados? My geography of the Caribbean isn't good.

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Monday October 28, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn Leeds LS11 5NQ

We woke very much regretting our late night with young Booth. To Morrison's and then back for 11:30 (Maureen opened up) and found Dad at the bar. He was expected but was earlier than anticipated. Samuel's face on seeing 'Gan Gan' was a picture. How magnetic he is to children. V. quiet at lunch. Dad and Ally stood leaning on the bar as I worked behind it. The Egans flew to "España" at dawn yesterday. Few customers. Only the dour Kentish man, bearded Brian, who ranted on and on about Stalin's daughter. Plus the man who drinks 'Rusty Nail' cocktails. Poor Dad - how brave he is. At the mention of the headstone he looks so weary and mutters: "five months now, Michael." She has been gone now longer than the entire length of her illness. Hard to believe. Dad was tired tonight and retired at 10. We did pool sandwiches but few turned out to play pool and so it was a waste of time. We have succeeded in the space of 12 months to kill our tap room stone dead. To bed at 12 with sandwiches. I am sick of John Updike.

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Sunday October 27, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

21st Sunday after Trinity

British Summer Time Ends

Up early. Samuel confused by the time difference. Pottered around and went to Guiseley cemetery at 10 to look at the stone. It was a jolt. Ally wanted to weep but held her composure. Samuel played dropping stones int the flower bowl. Mum would like this.  The stone reads:

                                                     In Loving Memory of

                                                               NORA

                                               Beloved wife of Lawrence Rhodes

                                                      Born 2 January 1935

                                                      Died 18 May 1985

On to Lynn's. No Lynn. Dave in overalls. Dad and Charlotte Nora were in the garden. It was cold. Janette was at Maria's collecting the children and John was working. We went back to Leeds for 11:30. The Leeds Marathon was running. Chicken for lunch. Visited the Sandersons afterwards. They are in a state of refurbishment and working on the lounge. Interviewed candidates. Four in all, but only one suitable. Elizabeth Melvin (?), 26. A boy called Chris is coming tomorrow at 7:30. He's only 18 though. Sue and Pete came here at 7 dropping Dave B at the Dragonara Hotel where he's attending a function. Black tie 'do' &c. Peter always refers to David as 'Shortie'. The Nasons didn't stay long enough and left at 10. We sat up until about 2:30 with Gary. It was his last night. A lonely lad despite his wild, exhausting social life.

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Saturday October 26, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

LG came on Thursday. I am forgetful. He was out of sorts and shot me down about the piano. 'Can't afford one', he said. When he sampled the ale from my cloudy barrel and blamed me for the bad management of it, which was stupid of him, and advised me not to return a single drop. Silly bugger. It was all Egans, Egans, Egans tonight. I did the parachute and the blind Irish pilot routine this afternoon, with the help of Margaret. Terry almost shit himself. Ally recovering but remains weak and washed out. Samuel, thank God, is untouched by the malady. Gary and I worked tonight. His penultimate shift. I placed an advert for staff in tonight's Evening Post and it attracted several calls. We are interviewing tomorrow. Upstairs at midnight. Saw a marvellous old film, Bette Davis/Claude Rains, &c. British Summer Time ends. We have an extra hour longer in bed. I want to go see Mum's stone tomorrow.

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Friday October 25, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

Ally and Audrey both have red, running noses. Margaret's celebrations go on. Sandwiches and cakes tonight and floral tributes from around the globe. The Egans were quaking about the coming flight to Spain. Margaret and I joked about making a parachute for Terry at lunch tomorrow. This evening Ally stayed above. Weak knees, &c. She watched a programme on the suspicious demise of Marilyn Monroe. The Kennedys were behind it. Phoned Dad. Mum's gravestone is now erected. What can one say. _________.

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Thursday October 24, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn Leeds LS11 5NQ

United Nations Day

Margaret: 40

Busy. The 40th birthday celebrations of Margaret Milne though the auspicious anniversary doesn't actually fall until tomorrow. Margaret and a group of friends filled the lounge tonight, hitting the hard stuff. Joined by Audrey and Maureen, &c. They chattered about our lack of staff and suggested possible candidates, i.e. Margaret's niece, Ann. (Our staff hours are of course ruled by the brewery). John and Janette appeared at 9pm with George and Jayne Waite. Janette giggled and asked whether I'd seen the item of news on 'Calendar' about George's joinery business burning down. The expression on George's face revealed all. _______. (sensitive redaction). All the Scots stayed on afterwards 'for one'. Charlotte Nora is to be christened at Esholt and I am to be the godfather. Deeply flattered and pleased. John was puzzled. It was the first he'd heard of it.

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Wednesday October 23, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

Susie.

To a piano shop in Kirkstall where we saw a battered old thing for £189 which might please LG. I think it would go down well in our back bar. On to Guiseley. We haven't seen Susie for yonks. She looked very well and frequent scans reveal a healthy, kicking embryo. The kids, as usual, went berserk. Even Samuel looks possessed after only ten minutes with the bouncing Christopher. Sue is really hoping for a girl.

Tonight: Gary Booth came in and gave his notice. He has sold his house and is now a man of some means. We sat the bar waiting for LG, who didn't materialise. I sampled the Diet Pils and had six and a half pints. Fell about pissed. Everything is blank.

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Tuesday October 22, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

Nothing much to report. It was the usual mausoleum in the bar downstairs this lunchtime punctuated only by the arrival of Uncle Peter in his overalls. I gave him a pork pie and we stood leaning on the bar. He recently bumped into Hilda in ASDA. He can be very naughty about our relations. Beverley, he says, wants to be a policewoman but failed the test by three points but can re-apply in 6 months. Late dray delivery. The saga of our sensitive 'Skivvy' glass washing machine continues. I tried to get hold of Les Gledhill without success, but eventually Ally succeeded. He was out of sorts and grumpy and said he would come to inspect the barrel of OBB tomorrow, which is our evening off. Never mind.

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Monday October 21, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

Ally and I are back on a peaceful ship on a calm sea after several stormy weeks. Don't get me wrong. It was nothing serious. We sometimes have disagreements. My wife can become inflamed so very easily and can make a squabble out of anything:- Tomatoes, the price of fish, an untidy room, a misplaced newspaper, &c. Very wound up. I wish she could unwind more. Yesterdays royal interview was well received in the Press. Good egg. I have a rotten barrel of Old Brewery Bitter to return (36 gallons). Pity. I have had so much look with the 18 gallon casks. Phoned Horton. Lynn and the girls and Thomas are staying with Papa. Picnics, &c. I think she said today they'd been to Hardraw Scar. Our barmaid Marjorie Murphy has left to work at a greeting cards shop in Leeds Market. Poor buggers.

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Sunday October 20, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

20th Sunday after Trinity

Bitterly cold. Auntie Mabel phoned as I was emerging from the cellar for breakfast. She has been on holiday. Somewhere south, and visited Windsor. A pleasant day at home. Off from 2:30. I sat with a Cornish pastie and tuned into a ghastly John Wayne film. What an incredibly boring actor he was. Samuel has been leaving puddles everywhere. We have a soggy carpet.

Read the Sunday Telegraph. Nancy Mitford's harrowing end. Hodgkinson's disease (sic). Or is it Hodgkin's? Or Patrick Jenkin disease? Oh, I don't know. 

The Waleses with Burnet.

This evening Sir Alastair Burnet interviewed the Waleses at Kensington Palace. Diana came over excellently and seemed self-confident though she hasn't shaken off that shy look. The prince fought off the rubbish about vegetarianism, spiritualism and all the other uncomfortable 'isms', but on the whole I think it was the princess who did the best. Saw the children assaulting a piano. It was followed by a play 'Trelawny of the Wells' by Arthur Wing Pinero. Excellent. Ally giggled. To bed.

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Saturday October 19, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

Thomas John.

Merde Alors! The vacuum cleaner has exploded. Ally's world has come crashing down. The vacuum cleaner - what a foul contraption. We are resolved to throw another 'party night' on Nov 16 before our next holiday. I must see Les Gledhill about half price whisky.  A quiet lunch. I phoned Tim at Pudsey and invited ourselves over there. We went at 4pm calling at Woolworth's to buy an offering for Thomas John. To Valley Rd to view my half cousin who I have decided is very much like Timothy. The baby is to be baptised at Pudsey on Nov 3. Pepper, the dog, is visiting there whilst Hilda and Tony are in Norfolk and the thing was yapping like hell behind a glass door. Samuel spent an hour tormenting the Yorkshire terrier. He can be naughty in confined spaces. We would love another baby, and soon. Busy evening. No staff after last nights cock up when we had two.

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Friday October 18, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn LS11 5NQ

That bloody stupid stock-taker came at 10:30 and mucked around supposedly taking stock. We laughed at his tie. At least eight inches in width, and brown velvet to boot. My God, what a pillock. He was all finished within an hour and off he tootled leaving us with a £20 surplus. Phoned Lynn and asked them to come here tonight (we have 2 staff). They came at 8:30 and we stood in a corner. Lynn told me of David's vasectomy and seemed to think I'd show some disapproval. Does she perhaps think I'm the Pope? David's snip is no concern of mine. We had a very enjoyable evening but it passed too quickly. They didn't stay late and used Dad babysitting as an excuse to leave. Lynn pulled her horrible Tranmere friends to pieces and says none of them know how to bring up children, &c. A reunion with the Allinsons seems likely. To bed pissed. Samuel woke and was troublesome.

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Thursday October 17, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds

No staff. Just Ally and me.

James Callaghan.

Old James Callaghan is to retire as an MP at the next general election. He will be 85. I do hope that he will be recommended for an earldom and that HM (the Queen)  will confer the Garter upon him. Earl Callaghan of Cardiff, KG. What an old buffer he is. He isn't a patch on the current PM and his voice carries as much clobber as a three week old lettuce, but all the same he is a former 1st Lord of the Treasury and deserves something better than a life peerage. Looking back to those days of his premiership 1976-79 one remembers little. Indeed, many of the people today under the age of 30 will have difficulty remembering the man at all. Those earnest Labour grandees of the 60s tend to merge into one blob - the Roy Jenkins-John Stonehouse-George Brown clones. Poor E.R.G. Heath (who?) is now the only former PM not to have been bestowed with a title. Will he be Earl of Bexley one day? Oh, shut up you old fool.

Note: Callaghan ended his days as Baron Callaghan of Cardiff, KG. A life peer.

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