Monday June 10, 1985

 Waltergarth

Phil the Greek is 64 today. 

We left Samuel with his grandad and went to Skipton for an hour so. Market Day. Returned for lunch to Waltergarth without having bought a thing. We do this quite a lot. Shopping and coming empty handed. Our obsession with anything made of pine is steadily growing. Ally tells me she has bought a pine wash stand at Cheap 'n Cheerful before we came away and it has to be collected on our return.

Tonight. We found Dad in the bedroom rummaging through cupboards and so we assisted. He bagged up lots of Mum's clothes with the intention of posting them to Oxfam or somewhere. Most of the stuff too good to destroy. So many memories. Mum kept every greeting card she had received since about 1980. Some of Dad's cards go back thirty years. The photographs too. Dad has taken 500 snaps in the three years since going to Yugoslavia on May 17, 1982.

-=-

Sunday June, 9 1985

 1st Sunday after Trinity

Waltergarth

An early start. The Bakers were up at dawn to go to York to the joint christening of Richard and Mandy's offspring. Samuel really appreciates seeing his cousins. He seems especially fond of Katie. Breakfast was a mad, noisy affair. At least I feel better today. Ally told the others in my absence that I was cut up about mother and yesterday's gathering was too soon, and too painful. I found the gala atmosphere quite obscene. Though I do know we have to go on. Mum would have loved yesterday so much. 

Lynn and Dave left at 9, Sue and Pete at 12 and John and Janette soon after. Dad hadn't slept well. He'd been on the settee all night, and so when Sam went to bed at 1pm Dad joined him. Ally did Dad's ironing and I cooked roast beef and Yorkshire pudding for lunch. Three sitting at the table. So odd. What a gap. Later Dad composed a one sentence letter to Earl Stephens in New Zealand informing him of Mum's death. Every word was like a dagger to the heart. Later Dad sorted through mounds of old papers, throwing them out. Mum kept everything. A bill for the new carpet at Pine Tops from Oct 1970 - £120. Ally retired early, at 10pm, and Dad and I watched the puffed-cheeked Marlon Brando in The Godfather Part 1. Bed after 12.

-=-

Saturday June 8, 1985

 Waltergarth

The Crown, Horton.

We all left Dad after breakfast and went into Settle for a few hours. Blustery, though dry. Dad closeted yet again with the boilerman. This afternoon I was in the kitchen with Ally. She had me whisking cream for a trifle that nobody will ever eat , and then when she realised we were under her feet she packed John and I off to the Crown with Samuel for an hour. We left Ally and Janette making a buffet luncheon. We sat the garden at the pub with pints of Guinness. Sam played with some children but one set about him and slapped his face in an unprovoked assault. Poor Sam looked bewildered but didn't wail. John seems fond of Sam. Babies do not interest my brother, by Sam is now an energetic little boy. Back to Waltergarth at 2. Lynn and Sue and throng had arrived. Sue announced that she is expecting a baby in January. We ate, but something was missing. I felt awful and went to bed for an hour. The others looked at me as though I was mad. 

Evening: The Davidsons arrived. Charlie and Betty Davidson and Betty's sister. All painful. Mum never liked them and now here they are visiting Dad as soon as Mum is out of the way. We went to the Crown leaving Dad with them. We had a good natter in the pub. Home for 10. Boxing on the telly. I went to bed feeling bloody awful, leaving Ally with Dad, Pete and John.

-=-

Friday June 7, 1985

 Waltergarth, Horton

The Station, Ribblehead.

We went to Settle with Dad to do some shopping. His cupboards are bare. We went to the Co-Op and trudged round the town but threatening rain drove us into the Royal Oak for lunch. Samuel was restless and trundled around on the upholstery practicing his athletics. We sat in a corner.  (Redaction).

The boiler at Waltergarth is knackered. A man from Grassington, covered in oil, spent the day in the kitchen. I made roast lamb. John and Janette came at 9. We left Dad looking after Sam and went with J & J to the pub at Ribblehead. I touched alcohol for the first time in ages.Large whiskies and ginger, no less. We were in the pub until after 12:30. Janette wants Simon or Paul (?) for a son, but later tonight decided on Lawrence John. I do hope she keeps this one.

-=-

Thursday June 6, 1985

Waltergarth, Horton-in-Ribblesdale

Waltergarth.

Wet. A long drive from Winchester to Horton-in-Ribblesdale consumed the whole of the day. Samuel was remarkably good and sat in the car without so much as a murmur for the whole journey. Up the wet M1 to Leeds, through Guiseley, Skipton, and finally dear old Waltergarth was reached. We ate cheese and bread. Samuel slept soundly after his long journey. We sat tonight and helped Dad write letters in response to the many messages of sympathy he has received from family and friends. I sat and read them all. A tearful experience. Messages from Gerald Werrett, Martin O'Neill , Uncle Arnold, Dorothy, &c. All touching. A letter from Uncle Bert too. He became the grandfather of twin girls recently. I did the writing, dictated by Dad, sat next to a blazing fire. Dad couldn't bring himself to write anything and was appreciative of my efforts. We were working until after 12. You can almost see and hear Mum about the place. How the old china cabinet used to rattle as she thundered past in that busy, happy manner. Happy ghosts everywhere.

-=-

Wednesday June 5, 1985

 Chillandham Cross

Chillandham Cross.

Dull, but warm. We went to Alfresford - we walked by the river and inspected the Watercress Line again. Steam trains do absolutely nothing for me. I complained of tiredness and they joked about it.Blimey, I am 30. Back at Chillandham Cross Bessie was dropping hints about the ever increasing garden foliage and Dad, itching for employment, suggested we do a bit of tree surgery, which took up the afternoon. We loved it. Swinging in the trees with saws and axes. It was a weight off Bessie's mind. Sam slept in his pushcahir on the lawn. 

Hot baths and tea on the lawn. Frank returned from Southampton to see his grandson for the first time this visit. Such a quiet chap he is. Watched TV tonight. Dad and I sat up until 1am watching a rude US film called 'Choirboys'. Naughty, but a giggle.

News: Read in the DT that the 11th Duke of Manchester has pegged out to be succeeded by his brother  who is awaiting trial for fraud.

-=-

Tuesday June 4, 1985

Chillandham Cross, Itchen Abbas

Winchester Cathedral

Bessie's 63rd birthday. We went into Winchester and Ally and Bessie went shopping  and Dad, Samuel and I went to inspect the cathedral. I sat on the grass in front of the war memorial and Dad chased Samuel around. Lots of new trees planted in the cathedral grounds which are very well kept. Looking up at the fine Norman erection one is immediately struck by the overwhelming feeling that man is so small and insignificant. Like flies on a wedding cake. 

To the Bush for lunch. Sat in the garden. I had trout. Surrounded by old army colonels discussing the youth of today. A party of Canadians spoke to us. Dad does very well, but looks lost. 

Out with Dad to Alresford tonight. The Horse and Groom and then the Globe. Just for the last hour or so. Hampshire ale is always diabolically flat. A very wet night. We didn't pack any pullovers, so Ally was wearing one of Bessie's cardigans.

-=-

Monday June 3, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

Warm. Ron Brooks appeared and so did the new, odd stocktaker. His name escapes me. We have a £50 defecit but I do not worry. The stock is invariably up. We went skipping out into the sun at 12:30 and Ally, Sam, Dad and I escaped down the M1 to freedom. A holiday for 10 whole days. We broke off at the Crossroads Motel at Weedon and sat outside with a £2 ploughman's lunch consisting of a tiny brown roll and half a tomato. Samuel beat his grandad with a large stick.

Near the Bush at Ovington.

At Chillandham Cross we sat in the garden with tea and buns and Bessie. She said nothing about Mum at first and seemed stuck with how to handle it. What can she say? Frank was struck similarly dumb. We ate. We went to the Bush at Ovington with Dad. Sat in a corner. The place is grubby as ever.

-=-

Sunday June 2, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

Trinity Sunday

Sunshine. At lunchtime we bombed over to Thorpe Lane and found everyone sprawled out on the lawn at Thorpefields. The children were all blond and red. Sam looked so 'wishy washy' in comparison. They all played together in the Wendy house. Dad, red from the sun too, had been converting the lounge into Brighton Pavilion. Dave B is such a good man about the house. We brought Dad with us back to Leeds. Samuel looking very superior sitting with his idol in the back of the car. 

Gary worked with Ally. Dad and I stood at the bar chattering. He worries about money. He had Mum insured for £1700 but this will not cover the funeral bills, &c. We will lend him some cash of course. He didn't shed a tear until after 11 when he and I were left alone in the pub. At times he says he cannot go on.

-=-

Saturday June 1, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

Ally went to do lots of shopping and I entertained Samuel. No sooner had she gone when in came joiners who removed our lounge window, supposedly rotten. Samuel loved it.

I tend to drift around in a daze for most of the time. I must be shocking company. Thank God May is out of the way. What a hideous month. _________. Roll on Monday. We don't even know who is coming to do the relief management. They can send Josef Mengele for all I care. The last one (relief manager) was a little prick. Pink track suit, &c.

-=-

Friday May 31, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

Toe awful. Ally took me at 9 to see Dr Smith. I queued and then went in and he smiled and said: "How's your Mum?" in answer to which I told him that she had died - "faded away" on May 18. He just said: "Brave lady" and put away his fountain pen and shuffled the papers on his desk, like Jan Leeming does at the end of the Nine O'clock news on the BBC. He gave me anti-biotics which seem to have done the trick immediately. Ally has been very unsympathetic about my toe. She always brushes minor illnesses to one side. On top of everything I have a really snotty nose, heavy head, green slime, &c. Phoned Dad. He is spending the weekend with Lynn papering the lounge ceiling, inhabiting the attic bedroom. Susan did him the world of good at Horton and Peter had him mowing the lawns, &c. I do hope we all are not pushing him too hard. Lynn is eager to parcel up all Mum's things and send them to the Ethiopia appeal. It's far too early. Mum's things should be left alone.

-=-

Thursday May 30, 1985

Punk rockers ....

 Moorhouse Inn

Football: we go to Europe to indulge in sporting activities  and it has all ended like Goose Green. Awful. 

Our Punk Party. Donna Lea came in at 4:30 as I was dyeing my hair pink and silver. We giggled. Ally had become so tense about it but came down at 7:30 looking like Annie Lennox. Janet worked wearing an old bin-liner. Very good really. Abysmal turn out. We invited no family because we didn't think it a proper thing to do whilst in mourning. However, these frivolous things have to be done because we live in a pub. I was determined not to enjoy it. I did though, but just a little. About six people made an effort and came as 'punks'. Independent judges selected Edna (again) as champion with Pam Newton in second place. Edna was not the best this time, but was very good. She always puts her heart and soul into getting into character. She would make a brilliant actress. Sighs of relief at 11 when it was all over. Splashed in the bath together to wash off the dye. We can now think about our holiday.

-=-

Wednesday May 29, 1985

Moorhouse Inn

Sunshine. Frank, Marlene, Debbie and Auntie Mabel came at lunchtime. They sat inside with ploughman's lunches. Jointly they demolished 36 tons of wet lettuce. _________. Mabel giggled at Samuel. They left at 4:30. It was Debbie's first visit in ages. She never saw Mum ill. ____. Busy. Lots of people have died at the European Cup Final in Brussels - 38 trampled to death.

-=- 

Tuesday May 28, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

We are having a silly promotion on Thursday and have decided on a 'Punk Rock Fancy Dress'. Outdated, I suppose, but there you are. Our hearts aren't in it really. We went to Boots and bought hair gel and pink and silver dye. I am going to look a right proper poof. Gary worked. He is obsessed by soccer and women. He is doing some chemistry exams soon and I casually asked if he's doing CSEs or 'O' levels. He smirked. "No, it's the Royal College exam". No doubt he is going to be to chemistry what Michelangelo was to cherub paintings on ceilings.

-=-

Monday May 27, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

Bank Holiday in UK & USA

Bloody Bank Holiday. We expected visitors all day but none came until almost 2 o'clock. I was sat writing this 'ere (diary) when Ally shouted "look out of the window". This I did and there was Dad with Sue, Pete and the boys smiling up at me. We left Margaret in the bar and came upstairs. (Audrey is having the week off). Dad sat in Mum's high-backed chair and kept saying: "Hey, dear", with a sigh. He went and inspected every room. They spent 98 days here after Mum's so-called 'operation'. Ninety eight bloody days. Dad says he is so grateful for what we did. What did we do?  Mum was laid here dying while we sold ale below. We have suffered so much too, haven't we? We have to go on with this trauma for the rest of our lives. Hopefully, Mum sleeps soundly beneath Guiseley soil. 

Karen, Steve and Hayley came. Dad and Sue & Co left, and the Sandersons stayed until 9pm. Steve came down to the bar with me.

-=-

Sunday May 26, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

Whit Sunday 

Hot day. Ally played outside with Samuel and then they sat at a table with Werner, and his Diet Pils swilling friends, celebrating a birthday. Later we demolished roast beef for lunch. Samuel slept from 1pm and so missed his lunch. We ate upon our new pine table acquisition. 

Margaret worked tonight. Toe hurts. Am I going to be lame?

-=-

Saturday May 25, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

Guiseley cemetery.

A deep sleep again. It's a form of exhaustion I'm sure. Woke at 8:30. Poached eggs. A dull, overcast day. A typical start to a bank holiday. Feel particularly glum. It's a week since Mum was taken. It's obscene. I am having trouble with a toe-nail. It's a hideous sight. I sat in the bath soaking it, much to Samuel's amusement. Maureen suggested cutting the toe out of an old shoe, and this I did. It could set a new fashion. We were supposed to have a bank holiday extension in the bars tonight but I feel so awful, and on top of the festering toe I have a bad stomach too. Feel cold from inside. Ally was upstairs watching "Where Eagles Dare" for the 48,000,000th time. I kept running up and sitting on the toilet. John and Janette are at Horton. Dad, God bless him, is all I have got left to look up to. I phone him every day. Parents are so precious. 

(Yesterday, we visited the cemetery at Guiseley in the afternoon. Samuel played in the long grass and we looked at Mum's flowers and stared in disbelief at the wet, clay mound on top of her. It is a quiet corner though. On to Sue's afterwards. Pete was creosoting a fence.)

-=-

Friday May 24, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

Uncle Albert.

The first of May was the day on which Mum must have decided to get everything off her chest and then be at peace. If you can recall it was the day she told Papa and I that she wanted to be buried at Guiseley. Hilda and Tony visited that night and Dad took Tony to the Oddfellows for a drink leaving Mum and her sister alone. It was when they were upstairs together that a very poignant exchange occurred. Mum told Hilda that she was the daughter of Levinyer and Uncle Albert. She told Hilda that her mother (Levinyer) had disclosed this news when she herself was on her deathbed in 1957. Mum was so shocked that she only ever repeated this to Dad. (Dad told me of this in 1969). It was then that a bombshell came. Hilda told Mum that she too was the daughter of Uncle Albert, and neither had ever suspected that they were similarly sired. Both had spent the years from 1957 thinking they were alone, outcasts and virtual freaks. How sad that they both discovered that they were full sisters 18 days before one was taken away forever. How wrenching. I find it particularly annoying that Levinyer didn't have the sense to inform both her daughters together, to help them share the peculiar burden. I have always pondered, since I was told this story in 1969, on the structure of the Wilson family, and I decided long ago that Hilda must be Albert's child too. I cannot see Levinyer switching from one brother to the other and then back again. Dad says he cannot pretend to understand the relationships but recalled going along to St James's Crescent in December, 1953, to ask John Wilson for his daughter's hand in marriage to be confronted by the sober supposed father of the bride, who immediately responded: "Yes, you can marry Nora and I request that Hilda is the chief bridesmaid". Dad thought this was a strange proviso and now looking back he can see John's reasoning. The only people who could ever explain the antics of this ménage à trois are not going to reveal anything now. Poor Hilda. I must speak to her about this.

-=-

Thursday May 23, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

The funeral of my poor, young mother.  (Redaction).

We went to Guiseley. Left the car at Sue's and walked to Lynn's. A full house. Long, lost relations too numerous to mention. Ally was annoyed at the way so many family and friends treat Mum's funeral like an enjoyable family reunion. Flowers galore. I didn't read any of the cards because I didn't want to blubber. 

St Paul's, Esholt.

To St Paul's, Esholt. The church was full of friends. Mr Barnes, the vicar, attempted to ease the pain but could not justify the death of a loved and lovely 50 year-old wife and mother. St Paul's letter to the Thessalonians didn't help. We wept through the hymns. To Guiseley cemetery at 11:45. A dull, but thankfully dry morning. Mum was lowered into the damp earth and we huddled around in the damp grass. 

(Redaction).

Back to Lynn's  for whisky. Just the four children, spouses, JPH and Catherine - two impeccably behaved children. Dad walked back to Thorpe Lane after seeing all the mourners off. It was what she wanted. No large gathering afterwards. No wake. Just a funeral and then home. Collected Sam. Home for 5. I was in bed at 7:30 totally exhausted. ______Tragic.

-=-

Wednesday May 22, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

Dull, miserable, overcast. You name it. I woke up glum and read a letter of sympathy from Edna and Nellie  which reduced me to tears.  Also a nice card from Sarah and Delia. Birthday cards for Ally. We had boiled eggs. _______. I phoned Anne's florist in Guiseley and ordered two floral sprays one from us and one from Bessie. £27 in all. I asked for roses. We went looking for a black jacket for Ally without success. It was a wasted, frantic hour. Ally insisted that Mum wouldn't want us to be doing this, looking for mourning garb, but I'm of the opinion that lime green polka dots at funerals should be avoided at all costs. Hilda phoned, just to talk. Sue phoned Ally to say that Dad had had a bad night, and had walked up to the Cemetery. Dad's brother Joe had phoned him. The conversation was 'crisp' says Dad. 

I phoned Lynn who says Auntie Dorothy had written to Dad. "Very sweet and sympathetic". We went to Bradford at 3:30 where Ally found a black jacket in Rackham's. Dad saw Jack Denison at 6 and then came here at 7:30. It was good to see him. Marjorie worked and Ally came down and we sat in a corner. We talked about tomorrow and the funeral. upstairs for 11.___________.

-=-

Tuesday May 21, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

Ally is twenty seven today. I bought her some things last Thursday and I gave then to her unwrapped at breakfast, with no enthusiasm. A Laura Ashley petticoat (£18) and odd bits of Almay cosmetics. They latter were from Sam. It was hard to find a card which avoided saying "Happy Birthday". It was a ratty, disorganised birthday morning. Heavy rain. We went to Guiseley and had fish and chips with Sue. Lynn's household is stricken with 'flu and so we avoided taking Samuel. Dad, Sue says, has moments when he is overcome with emotion and grief, but he can gather himself quickly. ____. I wanted to order flowers from Anne's florist but Guiseley appeared to be totally shut down. Just Ally and I called on Lynn. Thomas came out of hospital at 4pm yesterday. John & Janette were with Lynn. Back to collect Samuel and then on to Menston for 3:30. Hilda has decided to visit the chapel of rest to see Mum at 6 and John and I have decided to accompany Dad. I was in two minds about this but have decided to pay my respects and see her for the last time. We watched 'Demetrius and the Gladiators' which John had recorded from Sunday. Janette is a good and thoughtful girl. _______. John, Dad and I met Hilda on Otley Rd at 6. We went in just for a few minutes. Hilda sobbed. Mum, beautiful in her coffin in white satin. Her hair so dark. They had applied some make-up and lipstick. Dad had a weep. He asks 'why?' Tony picked up H at 8:30 and we went to Leeds and the pub. Gary worked. June brought a birthday cake in for Ally.

-=-

Monday May 20, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

A gloomy morning. I wanted to see Dad and time seems to have dragged since that fateful hour on Saturday. Dad phoned me early before leaving for Settle to say he had spent a sleepless night pacing the rooms at Waltergarth. He was eating chocolate biscuits and drinking coffee at 6:30am and then he had slept heavily until he was woken by Jack Denison on the phone at 9:30. Uncle John in Lanzarote had phoned Uncle Arnold with the news, and the latter insisted on seeing Dad today. 

Auntie Mabel phoned and said she would bake two dozen scones for Lynn's after the funeral gathering. Ally told her that Mum had specifically requested 'no bun fight' and that after the funeral only Dad and his children would return to Lynn's. No wake. No boiled ham tea. Nothing. Mabel will be put out because this goes very much against tradition. However, Mum's wishes are to be obeyed. _______.

Dad met Arnold and together they went to record Mum's passing. He bought an extra copy for my records.

Tonight Gary worked. He arrived late at 8:30. Jack Denison phoned here (he wanted to talk to Dad). Ally asked him if I could have a lock of Mum's hair. He said yes, but Dad's permission is required. It may seem morbid, but Mum always took locks of our hair when we were children, and so I'm only getting my own back.

Pool match sandwiches.

-=-

Sunday May 19, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

Sunday after Ascension

We had bacon and eggs and cried at the breakfast table. It has hit Ally this morning. Here we are waking up to a new day, but Mum isn't. Sue took Dad back to Horton this lunchtime. We visited Auntie Mabel and Auntie Hilda. Mabel was entertaining Connie. Hilda was alone. Phoned Dad at 6:30. He has an appointment to register Mum's death at Settle tomorrow and is meeting his brother Arnold at the Royal Oak. He is phoning the vicar (Barnes) tomorrow at 7pm and wanted some suggestions for hymns. At their wedding they had the 23rd Psalm (Crimond) and 'O Perfect Love'. Let's sing these again, says I.

-=-

Saturday May 18, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

We arrived at Horton at 10:30. Mum was lying flat and breathing heavily. Her eyes have gone and cannot focus. I touched her hand - ice cold. Dad looked at me. "She cannot go on much longer". Dad didn't leave her side. I kept leaving the room to blubber. He says the most touching things to her. ______. The last thing he said to her was: "We are going to do it all again one day, aren't we lass". I went outside and sat on the wall looking up at Pen-y-ghent and the sheep. Ally out walking with Sam in his pushchair came back as John and Janette were driving through the village. They went straight in to see her. John holding her hand and with a look of despair. I went back outside, Then, just before 1pm I saw Dad signal for me to go back inside. Ally passed Samuel to Frances, the neighbour. With Dad holding her hand and John, Janette, Ally and me sitting on the bed Mum died at 1pm exactly. I closed her eyes. We drank tea as if it was a normal thing to do, phoned Dr Brewster. He came in and pulled a sheet over her face. When he walked out I uncovered her face. Frances looked after Samuel for the afternoon. I didn't even notice he was gone.

(Large mournful redaction).

At 8;30-9 o'clock Jack Denison, the funeral director, came from Guiseley and took Mum to the chapel of rest on Otley Rd, Guiseley. We followed to Susan's. John and Janette taking Dad. We sat until 11:30. Samuel slept in Sue & Pete's bed. We took him home to Leeds, saying goodnight to Mum as we drove past Denison's. 

Lynn  spent the evening in Otley hospital with Tom. Strange as it may seem, I slept.

-=-

Friday May 17, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

We went back to (see) Mum. This time just Ally, Sam and I. It was a lovely, sunny day. We stopped off in Settle to look at the shops and eat fish and chips on a park bench. Samuel enjoyed this. He is very good. I think he would like having a dog. 

We arrived at Waltergarth after 12 . The (Macmillan) nurse was with Mum who was sitting propped up and looking lifeless and hideous. Black haunting eyes. I wept on a bench in the garden. Dad now says that she will go at any moment. The neighbour Frances said this morning that she found Dad hanging out his washing and sobbing like a baby. I had some bread and cheese and went to hold Mum's hand. So weak, and unable to drink. She has had a horrible, rasping cough since 8am. She appears to be distressed by any noise. We left at tea time and came back to Leeds. 

A nightmare of an evening. I feel ill, throbbing headache. Some gypsies in the tap room gave me a bit of bother.

Lynn, David, Hilda and Tony went to see Mum this evening. Every time the telephone rang I leapt with fright, but nothing happened in the night. We are going back to Horton tomorrow.

-=-

Thursday May 16, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

Ascension Day

Ally went out picking flowers with Sam. Donna Lea appeared with a briefcase to address the dwindling sales and the crisis facing us and the Moorhouse should the trend continue. She was so very sympathetic about Mum and says the brewery will do anything to help. She lost her Papa aged 45. "Buy a piano", she says. Otherwise, drivel. You know what area managers are like. 

Phoned Dad tonight. He was in a bad way. Weeping, &c. Mum isn't drinking water now either, and so it's just a matter of time. He was so desolate. I flapped about this and phoned John, Janette and Susie. I decide to go back to Horton tomorrow, but Sue says she will go on Sunday. I advised her that Sunday might be too late. I walked back from the call box in a dream. It is all so very hard to believe. Can it really be my jolly, zestful mother we are talking about? Ally looked at me as I walked into the bar, and from the look on her face it was obvious that she thought I had ghastly news. We are under a lot of strain.

-=-

Wednesday May 15, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

To Horton-in-Ribblesdale with Sue, Christopher and Benjamin. Rain. We found Mum greatly deteriorated. She now cannot eat or swallow any of her pills, and takes sips of drink from a baby cup. She looked at Ally as she sipped, and said: "Just look at the state I'm in ...". Sue provided a liver casserole for the kids, and both Dad and I had a bowl. Later, Dad and Ally took the children out into the village for a walk. Spitting rain. I sat holding Mum's hand, Sue in a chair looking uncomfortable. She doesn't like the long silences. When Mum speaks it is weak and distorted. Obviously distressed and fed up with living. Dad says the end is near. We drove away later and saw Mum raise her weak, thin arm as an act of goodbye. Dad stood next to the apple tree blinking back tears. Night off. Thank God.

-=-

Tuesday May 14, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

Phoned Susie and suggested that she might join us on a visit to Horton tomorrow. She was very pleased. The horrible weather is driving her and the kids scatty (sic). It will be a dawn attack on Ribblesdale. Poor Sue believes in nothing in the hereafter, and once we are gone that is it. She finds Mum's suffering too painful to discuss. She also firmly believes in the idea of euthanasia and she has an agreement with Peter that should she ever find herself in a position similar to Mum that he will do something to put her out of her misery. I cannot condone this. Any life must be better than death, surely? I suppose that is easy for me to say, as I am fit and well. _______ (redaction) _______ Mum is to be cheated of her old age and I am so very bitter and twisted about it.

-=-

Monday May 13, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

Teri (Collinson) was off, and so we did the lunches. Took ten pound-ish on food. I am now ploughing through the Daily Telegraph. I chuckle at so little news these days. What a glum year it's been. Albert Einstein, one of the greatest mathematicians the world has known, once received a letter telling him off for his sums - from Mrs Einstein. "Genius is little respected by it's own fireside" says Dr William Thomson. How I have come to realise that.

-=-

Sunday May 12, 1985

Moorhouse Inn

5th Sunday after Easter

Mother's Day, USA & Canada

A terrible fire at Bradford FC yesterday destroyed an old wooden stand and killed 50 people. Many were so badly burned they will never be identified. The whole stand was ablaze within minutes.

The Bradford FC fire tragedy.

We had a full-English breakfast. The ancient, white-haired cleaner Anne had to bash on the doors and windows to get us out of bed at 8:45. Even Samuel had over-slept. He is 16 months old today. 

An afternoon at home today. Scampi for lunch followed by 'Carry On Teacher' (1958). Samuel played merrily on the floor. I think he is going to be a sprinter. I tend to bite my nails when watching the telly which niggles Ally, and today I was soundly beaten with a rolled up copy of the Sunday Telegraph.

You will be startled, and yes reassured to hear that I have renounced alcohol, but only temporarily of course. Recent months have seen an increase in my girth. Looking at photographs of my birthday I spy a bulging tummy and sagging chin. I refuse to go the way of so many other publican types. Dear me, no.

Historical trivia: The Queen Mother was anointed as Queen Consort 48 years ago this day.

-=-

Saturday May 11, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

I have been phoning Papa daily, but not always reported here. He has little to report. Nurses now come and go. A doctor dressed as a TA major appeared in a sports car, and, joking, offered to carry Mum away. They have had no visitors since Thursday. John is due to go tomorrow, no doubt with the family.

At 3:30 we went to see Great-Aunt Ann in Bramley (she was born 6 July, 1905). We discussed cousin Sam. He has not been to visit her, but she received a call from a psychiatric boffin. Poor Sam must be incarcerated somewhere in an asylum. Little old Gt-Uncle John (Kirk) is very ruddy faced and Dickensian, and almost blind. He leapt around playing with Samuel and when we left he gave him a 'forget-me-not' flower. Aunt Ann had just returned from a wedding - a heap of blue chiffon, and with a 'lady-in-waiting' and constant companion of 16 years in tow. She told me some family details. My Great Aunt Nellie (Ann's sister) died at 5am one Sunday morning in January. They were both mortified about Mum. Dad had written to her about Mum's illness. "Such a lovely girl", she says. 

To Auntie Mabel's. Samuel ate her dessert of strawberries and ice-cream, with his fingers. His sandwiches he devoured with a fork. She adores him and says he reminds her of a baby Derek Myers (born Sept, 1950). Home for 6:30.

Margaret worked. Stone dead. Marlene and Frank appeared after 9. 

-=-

Friday May 10, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

Dismal. I went out on foot at 9:30 to the new Holbeck Police Station to see PC Jarvis. I was taken below to the cells to have my finger prints taken. They came out very poor. I hardly leave a print. The jovial constable said I could commit the perfect crime without gloves. It was all very time consuming. Back for 11. I walked home over the motor-way bridge.

Denis: 70

Daily Trivia: MI5 is having a shake-up. Its about time. A Tory MP has joined the choir invisible. A by-election will now follow in Brecon & Radnor. The welfare state is to be abolished. The Waleses are back from the Med. Christopher Nevill, son of Lady Rupert Nevill is engaged to a Miss Venetia Maynard. Christopher's elder brother is heir to the marquisate of Abergavenny, but as yet childless. Denis Thatcher is 70 today. In a more noble era he would have been sent to the Lords. Those days are gone. Disraeli sent his missus to the upper house as Viscountess Beaconsfield before he himself took on the Beaconsfield title. You never know with Mrs T.

Just Gary tonight. Walked up the road for fish and chips with David Howard and June at 11:30pm.

-=-

Thursday May 9, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

Morning off. After breakfast we drove to Horton, calling at Settle. We walked around, Samuel toddling along in his red dungarees. To Horton for 12. Poor Mum looked shocking and wanted to sleep and so we had a miserable lunch of bread and cheese with Dad conducting all the conversation at a whisper despite the fact that Jimmy Young was blaring away on the radio, and Mum was yards away in bed. He became quite tearful but we didn't allow the conversation to  become too sombre. I found Mum crying in bed. She's been shouting for Dad but Jimmy Young drowned her out. I helped her to sit up and gave her a drink and Paracetamol tablets. She is a bag of bones. So pathetic and sad. I suggested she might have a commode, but she was repulsed by the idea ... "a commode and I'm only 50". So fucking cruel. Lynn and David appeared from Airedale (Hospital) where David had been X-rayed . He is having trouble with red urine. All hush hush. Lynn seemed peeved and was in a glum mood. Home for 5pm. Samuel eating potato crisps in the car. He is such a good little boy. The Moorhouse wasn't unduly seething (sic).

-=-

Wednesday May 8, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

The anniversary of VE Day. Forty years on. I don't really see why the fortieth anniversary requires a royal bash in the abbey and Frank Bough showing old newsreels of the Blitz and Belsen on TV from dawn until dusk. Will they do it all again in 1995?

VE Day: 40 years on.

Dray day. It's a day late because of May Day. At 3:30 we went to Bradford. Linfood. Club Street. I stayed in the car with Samuel and Ally went in the house. It would have been a tear jerker for me. Mum's hospital bracelet was lying on the bed. I will treasure it forever. On to Duckworth Lane. Ally and Sam went to Cheap 'n Cheerful and I went to get a haircut at Clip Joint (£6) - carried out by a young man called Andy -very Duran Duran. Not happy. I came away with a centre parting looking like Oscar Wilde.  Back at Club St Ally phoned Bessie. Night off. TV upstairs. J.R. Ewing, &c. Out at 8 to phone Papa. We are venturing to Horton tomorrow. Dad wants us to collect a few loaves of bread in Settle. Mum is now on different pills - 12 in all. VE TV -- yawn.

The actress Dawn Addams has died of cancer aged 54, after a five month struggle.

-=-

Tuesday May 7, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

Quiet here. Ally and Samuel went across to Guiseley where Lynn, Sue and Janette were sitting in the garden at Thorpefields surrounded by masses of children. Summer, it seems, is upon us. Lynn is usually scantily clad from May to October. Samuel was playing in the gutter with a toy sweeping brush. Lynn says that Mum has a growth of some kind upon her shoulder, a product of the cancer, but says Mum isn't aware of it. Revolting.

I slept on the settee until 4 when Ally and Samuel came back for tea. Ally sat relating her adventures to me and we lost sight of Samuel for a few minutes. We found him in the kitchen with an upturned box of black pepper. His ears, eyes, nose and lungs - full of it. We were both sneezing as we cleaned him up. Minor hysterics ensued. 

I phoned Sarah at the YP. David Howard has been pestering her for some time about a bankruptcy case and I wanted to clear the air. I told her about Mum and she began to blubber. I didn't want this. She did see Mum quite a lot at evening soirees in the '70s. You know how emotional Sarah can be. She promised to come here one evening. Seeing is believing. 

Later I had to forcibly eject a young violent Welshman with a black vicious dog. Karma Singh ran to my assistance but twas not needed.

-=-

Monday May 6, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

Bank Holiday in the UK

Cool. The usual flat bank holiday. Rajpaul, the Pakistani jeweller, was sat outside in the car park in his Mercedes Benz drinking his own Bacardi. I went out and told him that this is strictly forbidden. Good heavens, no. At lunch Ally provided only sandwiches which sold better than I expected. A bustling lunch really. Later I cleaned the deep fat frier whilst Ally slumbered. I l later gave our son 'high tea', a bath, Horlicks, &c. Bed then for our tiny progency, and then I set about making the pool sandwiches. Ally criticised my furious activity before collapsing on the settee ______.

Tonight I felt dead to the world. Janet worked. I went to phone Dad from the corner of Admiral Street. Yes, they made it to Waltergarth . Mum travelled in the front passenger seat of Dave B's car wrapped in blankets. Horrendous journey. The Baker children were left at Pool-in-Wharfedale. Mum was completely exhausted on arriving at Waltergarth and fell into bed. Very weepy. Dad pleased to be home. Dr Brewster is going tomorrow to remove Mum's stitches. He hasn't seen Mum since November. 

A flat evening. We had an extension until 11:30pm. Useless. Karen Pratt came in. Ally played darts with our lady champion, Vicky Pearson.

-=-

Sunday May 5, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

4th Sunday after Easter

Sun, but cold. To Horton with potted plants and Mum's suitcase. I drove the car from the 'dark arches' in Leeds to the other side of Ilkley. My feet are too big for the pedals.  Joined by Sue, Pete and the boys at Waltergarth for 12 and Sue made a chicken stew and Yorkshire puddings. It's such a sad place. Thirty years to build a home, and for what? (Don't become bitter and twisted, Michael, please). We stayed until 3 and then left in convoy fashion. Samuel is obsessed by his Nason cousins. He loves the company of other children. Christopher spewed up outside the Anchor at Gargrave. Gary worked PM. Phoned Papa. Mum is so bloody weak. She has been downstairs since Easter.

News: Yehudi Menuhin has taken British citizenship so now he can use his knighthood and now be styled Sir Yehudi. He was made Hon. KBE in 1965. Interesting.

Before leaving Horton we watched the royal tour of Italy on the news. Gondolas in Venice. Later saw the young princes arrive and join their parents on Britannia for a short cruise in the Adriatic.

-=-

Saturday May 4, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

Full Moon. To Bradford this morning. Ally dropped Samuel and me and we walked to Club Street  and found Mum flat out in bed. Tearful. Mum is set on journeying to Horton on Monday. It will be one hell of a ride if she makes it. The bedroom at Club St is claustrophobic after the palatial setting here. Her stitches are coming out next week. Samuel didn't want to go in and kiss her, and she was upset by this. The little mite doesn't understand. It was all something of a rush because Ally came back and we had to back at the Moorhouse for 11 to let the drunken reprobates in. 

Marjorie worked the evening. Nothing to report on this score other than the fact that I have agreed to babysit for her parrot when she goes on holiday in September.

Dead: Douglas Hurd's mum.

Married: the Hon David Erskine to Viscountess Chandos.

-=-

Friday May 3, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

It is six years today since the sainted Margaret [Thatcher] began her premiership. She is in Bonn at the moment attending a so-called economic summit which seems to me to be more like the 'Ronnie Reagan Show'. The poor US president is out of luck at the moment. His speeches seem jumbled and mumbled, and he looks confused and vague for most of the time. He is 74.

I have been reading a review of Anita Leslie's book 'Cousin Randolph', a biography of Winnie and Clem's wayward , prig of a son. It must have been awful for him having such a great man for a father and I suppose this must account for Randolph's faults. How many great men have produced sons to equal them? Where are the offspring of James Callaghan (who?), Harold Wilson (who?), Lord Home of the Hirsel (who?), Denis Thatcher, Dr David Owen, Donald Sinden, &c.

Society tit bits: Elizabeth Countess of Leicester is a gonna. Daughter of the Earl of Hardwicke, mother of Lady Glenconner, and grandmother of the naughty Charlie Tennant. She was a Lady of the Bedchamber to the Queen 1953-73. The Waleses are still afloat.

-=-

Thursday May 2, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

Dad phoned. Mum, he says, wants to return home to Waltergarth next Tuesday. The decision is made. John is going to take her home. My God it will be her final journey. So sad to think she has been putting off going back to Swaledale because she thought we would leave her in Horton churchyard. If only she had confided in me. 

Waltergarth ...

This evening two thugs in a large white van removed the telephone box from the pub foyer and made off with it. The bloody call box must only have had a couple of quid in it. What a laugh really. I had expected it for a while. A PC Jarvis came in giggling and took away a couple of beer glasses used by the thieves - for finger printing purposes. The theft was the hot topic of conversation tonight in the pub. I went to the Junction (pub) to phone Dad. Hilda and Tony visited them last night - late on. Dad took Tony to the Oddfellows (pub) for 4 pints of Tetley's. Poor Dad. He gets little time off.

-=-

Wednesday May 1, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

Cold, blustery. May Day. Horrific. To Shipley and the denist this morning where Ally had a chipped tooth looked at. Samuel and I went to look at books and buy a [news]paper. I bought a novel by Brenda Jagger for Mum and a picture frame for a group photo I've given her. Samuel played with a plastic green frog in the shop. 

To Sue's for lunch. We sat in the garden. Soup and sandwiches. On to Club Street at 2. Mum is awful, A shocking mess. Weary, weepy and weak. I sat with her alone and she clutched my hand. The only reason she has never gone back to Horton is that she doesn't want to die at Waltergarth and be 'left behind buried in the village'. She says she wants to be laid to rest in Guiseley cemetery to be 'near somebody' and deplores the idea of cremation. Once said she went on to say she would not speak of such morbid things again. She had the same conversation with Dad last night, which broke him up. I kept my calm and felt better knowing of her wishes. She did stress that she wants 'no bun fight' afterwards. I agreed with her. Wakes are ghastly. I will go away and get quietly pissed. Ally sat on the bed with her afterwards and began to cry, but Mum cheered her. Such a brave angel she is.

-=-

Tuesday April 30, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

Mum.

Mum returned to Club Street from hospital. She left the hospital by car -- she didn't enjoy the recent trip by ambulance. Dad did not expect to see Mum come out of Airedale. Mr Armitage had expressed the opinion that she 'might go'. And, for the first time since Christmas Mum has talked of going home to Waltergarth. This would make Dad very happy, I'm sure. He always looks so lost at Club St, and would be kept busier at Horton. Could Mum withstand the solitude though?

We had a restless, uncomfortable night off. We argue so much these days, not seriously or about anything of consequence, and we blame it on the tension and worry of recent months. We really should pull together at such a time of grief. I suppose it will come.

News: Pictures of the mantilla-clad figure of Diana with the Pope dominate the front pages. Lady Katharine Seymour, great aunt of the Princess of Wales and a lady-in-waiting to the Queen Mother, is dead.

-=-

Monday April 29, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

The Waleses with the Pope.

Our bloody phone is on the blink and I spent the afternoon going around the streets trying to find a working public appliance. Futile. Eventually, I phoned the hospital from Audrey's and left a message with the sister on ward 19 that I was 'cut off' in Leeds but thinking of Mum all the same. She looked so very poorly yesterday. Auntie Hilda is very concerned about Dad. What will become of him? He has always relied on Mum for everything, and to imagine him coping without her is impossible. They are such a loving, devoted couple.

The Waleses have had an audience of the Pope. I saw it on the telly. Diana in black, and draped in veils, &c. There is a rumpus over the Queen supposedly halting plans for the couple to celebrate Mass in (Pope) John Paul's private chapel in the Vatican, and then for them to take breakfast with him. It just isn't the done thing. The princess is still demure. 

Sunday April 28, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

3rd Sunday after Easter

Bacon, eggs. I enjoy Sunday mornings. At 3pm we took Samuel to Pudsey where Hilda and Jill looked after him whilst Ally and I went to Airedale (Hospital) to see Mum.  He wasn't upset when we left and was very interested in Pepper (the Yorkshire terrier). Driving rain and cold.

Mum was asleep and the TV was silent but for the occasional clicking of snooker balls - Steve Davis is at it again. She was soon awake and smiling. Poor Dad looked very forlorn. Mum is uncomfortable and the dripping wound in her tummy doesn't help. She says that in this stay in hospital she has been a coward, and depressed. She seems to think she can return home tomorrow, but it doesn't look likely. She asked to go back to Club Street for some peace, and that the pub 'saw me through the winter'. She added that the bustle, activity, and smells would be too much to endure now. Someone had done her make-up and it looked awful. She looked smudged and dazzling. We left and went back to Hilda's for 6 and on to the Moorhouse. 

Gary worked. Not too busy.

-=-

Saturday April 27, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

Samuel's peals of morning chatter woke me at 8 and I left Ally asleep and created a sumptuous breakfast for my boy. We both sat in the kitchen eating bacon, eggs, and fried black pudding. My head was pounding. I did the tills and Samuel played with his toys. Dad phoned at 9am. Mum feels poorly and in some discomfort from the meddling. I worried all day. Samuel and I went into the cellar to look at the bottles. My wife stayed in bed until 3pm. By this time I had also provided my son with lunch - fish. What a little housewife I am. It was a subdued afternoon downstairs. People with red eyes kept coming in and giggling. 

Mum phoned me at 6:30 feeling better. She said she is phoning us all because she doesn't want us to worry. Auntie Hilda phoned them this morning but Mum was too ill to have any conversation, and Hilda came away very upset fearing the worst. It was good to hear Mum's voice.

We both went downstairs at 7. It was Gary Booth's first appearance behind the bar. He did very well. Competent. 21. No trouble. Exhausted tonight. Quiet in the bars. A steady initiation for Gary. Bed at 12.

Gossip: The Hon Carolyn Herbert has become engaged to a bloodstock agent called Warren. She could so easily have become Duchess of York. How very sad. I do suppose that Prince Andrew's future wife is now a podgy 13 year-old schoolgirl at Roedean.

Friday April 26, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

Dad phoned this morning to say they arrived safely at Airedale Hospital after a bumpy ride over the tops. Mum was put in room 5 but then moved to room 4 because the TV is better there. They got straight down to it and drew off three pints of fluid from Mum's tummy. He said she was very tired and sleeping. Lynn and Sue are visiting this evening, and we'll have a further report then. Poor Mum. How brave she is. We didn't go out after lunch thinking someone might phone with a bulletin. How depressing. 

Phyllis's thighs: like a Rubens painting.

We went down at 8 and sat with the Egans. Ally phoned Lynn at 11 to be told Dad was all alone at Club Street. I was drinking pints and at 11:30 I bolted the doors and informed all those who were fortunate enough to be on the inside remained inside until the crowing of the dawn cock. The wild orgy of merrymakers consisted of us, Ally and I, Audrey, Maureen, Jean, Margaret, Dougie, David Howard, Geoff, Phyllis, Jerry, Mary, &c. Audrey sneaked out after 5 minutes but everyone else were soon pissed as arseholes. I did my usual stuntman impersonation. Clambering around on the furniture and 'sky diving'  - writhing on the floor with Phyllis, &c. Mounds of naked thigh, like one of those paintings by Titian or Peter Paul Rubens. I really went to town. My pyramid proved highly popular. 

-=-

Thursday April 25, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

Very cold. A morning off. Up to Horsforth where we sat in the back of MJM Furnishings with MJM himself supping coffee. Marita came in at 11. They have been looking at hotels in Scarborough. Dropped in on Denise too who is unchanged. She says I am fatter. I am probably 2st heavier since we last met.  On to the Butcher's at 12:30 for lunch. Sam was well behaved and sat with us eating chips. Joined by Ronnie the stock-taker. Rob was in a bit of a dream and we didn't really see him. We went upstairs to see Kath and the baby. He is a bonnie baby - for a change. Recent babies have looked so E.T-like.

To Club St for an hour. Dad took Sam for a walk and I sat with Mum. She was brighter and not in the least frightened about going into Airedale (Hospital). Dad phoned me tonight to say that they are going by ambulance at 9:30 in the morning. I go about my business in a kind of dream world.___________.

-=-

Wednesday April 24, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

Sunshine again. Samuel has been cutting some back teeth and is ill tempered and violent. His little red face contorted with rage. I soothed him rubbing whisky on his hard gums, and he was more pleasant afterwards. They must go through such agony. I took him out in his pushchair at 10. I withdrew £50 from the bank to buy various things for the pub lunches. 

See in the DT that Baron von Reibnitz has been cleared of any Nazi atrocities, and was more or less a honorary member of the Waffen-SS. All that fuss for nothing. 

Stocktake. Someone answering to the name Crump came late at 10:45 without our (illegible) and went away at 12 promising to phone us with our stock result this afternoon. He did so. We have a £21 surplus which is good after the £60 deficit incurred by the silly jogging relief (manager). 

At 3:30 we walked up to the local sports centre and took Samuel for his first dip in a swimming pool. He took to the water really well and kicked his tiny legs, but didn't enjoy getting a mouthful of water. A squalid pool really. Dirty and sweaty with open changing rooms. I flash my private little pieces for no one. 

Back at 5 for fish pie. Dad phoned me. Mum is going into Airedale Hospital (Ward 19 again) on Friday. He didn't know how long they might keep her in. We must go to see her tomorrow.

-=-

Tuesday April 23, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

Very blustery. Bright though. St George. Lord Carrington and the Marquis of Normanby have got the Garter.Dray came at 9. We shopped until 10. The girl on the counter in the bank is the most moody cow imaginable. Mavis phoned at 10:45 to give her notice. I accepted it. Since meeting 'lover boy' her heart just hasn't been in it. __________. Ally has kept the names and addresses of the people we interviewed last month and at 5:30 I phoned one Gary Booth, and he snapped up my offer of a job. He starts on Saturday. 

(Phoned Dad. Mum has been brighter - but no food).

Our pool team played the Gemini pub tonight and we won. Much of the zest in the squad has gone since Archie's passing. Jim Precious is still very cut up about it. Andy Bowden and Co. came in. We had a quiz. I am quite good and startle the others at my ability to answer silly questions. Such as: Who died in HMS Hampshire in 1916? Kitchener, of course. Name the tallest cathedral spire in England. Salisbury. We really should have a quiz team. Pool is so bloody dull. To bed at 11:30 with a plate of sandwiches.

-=-

Monday April 22, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

Samuel was up at 4am squealing and rubbing his gums. His teeth. A letter arrived saying we have a stocktake on Wednesday. Ally and Sam went off at 2 to town to collect my new suit - £70. Not bad, eh? Later I gave a fashion parade - very Prince of Wales - double-breasted.

Went to drive with Karen H at 9. Good. Armitage visited Mum at Club St at 8:30pm. I phoned them at 9:30pm. Armitage told Mum to take water tablets until the weekend and then if the swelling on her tummy hasn't gone down she will have to go into Airedale (Hospital) to have it drained. He, Armitage, bore sad tidings. The surgeon, Mr Hall, who operated on Mum in December, died yesterday. Probably his ticker. Mum took this very bad. Dad repeats how weak she is. I am sure he is expecting the end. I'm blank to it all. ___________.

-=-

Sunday April 21, 1985

 2nd Sunday after Easter

Birthday of Queen Elizabeth II

Moorhouse Inn

The good lady - the Sovereign is 59 years old today. She is celebrating at Badminton House, where the horse trials are in full swing. Horrible anti-blood sport yobbos attempted to disrupt the tranquility of HM's Gloucestershire weekend break. She turned a blind eye to the demo. Good old sov.

Ally is dead to the world. Yet another late night has bumped her off. I was downstairs at lunch and she and Sammy snuggled together in bed. Chicken later. A minor snooze afterwards. 

Phoned Club St. Hilda and Tony visited them this evening._____. 

Mavis's obsession with her strange moustachioed paramour reached its heady climax, and at 11pm instead of washing glasses, she was writhing around the walls in a mad passionate grip. Like a scene from 'Caligula'. Needless to say I had a few sharp words with her about this lapse, and she went away sulking. _________.

-=-

Saturday April 20, 1985

 New Moon

Moorhouse Inn

New Moon? Well, I suppose it will make a change from the old one. I cannot wait to see it. Ally and I were up and out to Bradford and to Linfood, and then she dropped us at Club St and went to the dentist. I sat with Mum and Dad played with Samuel. He is so good at the moment and tries to talk. He points at everything and everything according to Sam is 'dirty'. Mum was attempting to swallow Paracetamol tablets but couldn't get them down and was sick. She is so very weak. Dad attempted to prop her up, and she started to cry. Samuel couldn't understand this and he joined in and wept too, which upset Mum all the more. Dad made me kippers for a late breakfast. ________. To Guiseley at 4. Saw Sue and Co. and then went on to Lynn's for half an hour. I haven't been there since early February. How remiss. 

PM: John, Janette, Jill, Tim, Karen, & Steve appeared. We wanted a quiet night. They all stayed until after midnight. Janette says the baby will be surnamed Rhodes.

-=-

Friday April 19, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

As we suspected cousin Sam has contacted Gt-Aunt Ann, and has, as I also suspected, almost scared her to death. It was wrong of me to pass on to Sam the Kirk's address in the first place and I do feel very guilty. Sam has sent Dad a lengthy, garbled letter mentioning the police force, General Galtieri and the Marquis de Sade. Sounds grim. I suppose I should sent Auntie Ann a grovelling apology. My cousin is expected back here soon to collect a print of a Grandma Rhodes photo. Ally was dead to the world all day. Blame the wine. 

The Waleses have left for Italy - a 17-day extravaganza including an audience with the Pontiff. They are taking a cruise afterwards in Britannia with Princes William and Harry going along too. We are told that Diana is taking 34 new creations on the jaunt. The princess has appointed Viscountess Campden, a RC, to be an extra lady-in-waiting.

I stayed upstairs until 10:45pm. Had fish and chips. Ally, who says she's too fat, demolished a salad.

-=-

Thursday April 18, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

Audrey and Margaret worked at lunchtime and so we escaped to look at the shops in town. I ordered 'George V' by Kenneth Rose from Austick's. To Royce, who are closing down, where Ally bought me a new grey suit and pullover knocked down from £30 to £15. Samuel appreciates these excursions to Leeds and he waves frantically at all the passing buses and pedestrians. 

Tonight was a late one. We sat with Janet (barmaid) . Ally supped wine with gay abandon. We talked about holidays. Dear Ios. Janet's family come from Jamaica but she refuses to go visit because of the creepy crawly things. 1am finish. To bed pissed. Ally made pie and peas and we left them, festering, on the bedroom floor. Don't Cry For me, Ethiopia.

-=-

Wednesday April 17, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

Princess Michael of Kent, clad in sackcloth and ashes, was on TV-AM talking about the discovery that her father, Baron von Reibnitz, served in the Waffen-SS. The poor girl did a good job. How can she be blamed? Blimey, Prince Philip's sisters married German officers. So what? The war ended in 1945 for goodness sake. It would be a far worse and more deeply upsetting thing if it was revealed that the Queen Mother's father was once a Labour voter. I suppose it all depends were ones political affiliations lie. The BBC used Marie-Christine's interview and later TV-am obtained a high court injunction  to halt this so called broadcasting 'piracy'. Prince Michael is a pal of Tim Aitken, the TV-am chief, and is on the board of Aitken Hume. I am not too sure about royals going into the business world. Look what befell poor Angus Ogilvy in '76?

We had a visit from Bob Walker's side-kick. They are taking down our shutters. To Bradford at 2. Dad had just returned from Horton where the carpets had to be re-laid (£500!). Mum in bed, drowsy, looking old. We gave Samuel tea and returned to Leeds at 5. I am glum. Our night off. Had chilli con carne and watched 'Dallas'. 

It was the palace banquet for President Banda tonight. Princess Michael was escorted into dinner on the arm of the Duke of Norfolk.

We went to bed at 10. 

Tuesday April 16, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

Gunther von Reibnitz.

6:30am start. Went to shift barrels around the cellar in readiness for the dray delivery. Up at 8 for bacon. Ally couldn't get up. Switched on Breakfast TV and saw the news. The headlines are the revelation that Princess Michael of Kent's father was a member of the Waffen-SS from 1933. Bit of stink. I fail to see why such excitement has been generated by this. A palace spokesman says the news, printed in a new and scurrilous book, came as a shock to Princess Michael. Has there been a cover-up? Did the Queen know? &c. It is nonsense. You'd hardly expect a German aristocrat with the name Baron Gunther von Reibnitz to join the Scots Guards, could you? Living in Germany in the 1930s he would have had little choice. Princess Michael did not meet her father until she was 18. He disappeared to Africa after the war. All very tenuous and trumped up. The anti-monarchists are having a field day. The coverage on the BBC news is outrageous. Pictures of Hitler and Eva Braun at Berchtesgaden intermingled with horrific shots of Belsen and the Kents wedding in Vienna in 1978. Surely, not acceptable? HRH is expected later to be at a Buckingham Palace banquet later for the state visit of the president of Malawi.

Phoned Dad.

-=-

Monday April 15, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

Went out at 9 driving with Karen Hudson. I am at stalemate really because I have done no driving since my last lesson, and practice is what I need. She has the impression that I am nervous and need to relax, but I tootle along  feeling confident and not in the least  bit intimidated. Must be my quiet manner. I have never been one to chatter aimlessly with anyone. To strangers I may come across as shy, but to those who know me well see the fun-loving clown that I really am. 

I have been reflected that since Mum's illness we have been shunned by some friends. Is it that people just do not know what to say? 

-=-

Sunday April 14, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

1st Sunday after Easter

Dad phoned as I was opening the doors at 12 to say Mum has had a fall. She didn't wake Dad at 4am when she climbed out of bed to go to the loo and she lost her grip and fell backwards banging her head with force on the floor. At 3 we went to Club Street. The place was like a kindergarten. JPH & Catherine were there. Having lanigans, as they say in Hunslet. Unbelievably, John and Dad were replacing a skirting board and were sawing a plank of wood on the carpet. Ally was displeased. Mum was upstairs and I questioned why no doctor had been called when she was clearly in some pain in her neck and shoulders. She is so thin now it is a miracle she didn't break bones. A pile of Catherine Cookson books lay on the bed. Spring flowers on the dressing table, and Mum flat out , withering before our very eyes. Ally and Sam left me with Mum alone. That quick mind has gone. That vitality has already died. It is so wrong that people have to suffer in such a way. How lucky are those people who drop like a stone with a massive heart attack? So see a loved one, aged only 50, wasting away, is pure Hell. She was always so good and thoughtful and a lover of family life and all that goes with it. All snatched from her by this evil disease. ______.

-=-

Saturday April 13, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

(The page was blank. A rare occurrence. Probably the first blank page in the twelve years blogged so far. Dear Reader, as I compile this blog I am reading my journal for the first time since it was penned. Some entries of early 1985 I am finding very difficult to re-live. Harrowing stuff.)

Friday April 12, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

Back to it. A sunny start. Dad came down to wake us at 6:30. Upstairs Sam was asleep crouched face down with his face buried in his pillow. The car was packed and we drove to Leeds for 8:50. Andrew Snowden is a scruffy, unkempt individual. Ally was furious that he had left all the washing up. Ronnie did the stocktake. A £63 deficit. We learn from Audrey that he deposited much ale from the drip trays down the sink. Silly bugger. The annoying thing is that he swans around looking so superior and confident when in fact he's made a cock-up of the whole business. Tonight at 10 Ally sprung a surprise birthday party and brought me a large blue cake with a '30' inserted in the top. It was made by June, David Howard's girlfriend. Lots of sandwiches too, which were passed around the pub. I was stunned. Open mouthed and wide-eyed, &c. Dear Ally, how very sweet of her.

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Thursday April 11, 1985

 Chillandham Cross

We slept in and Bessie gave Sam his breakfast, Bacon, eggs, &c. So we were late packing and setting off. We left at 12:30, Bessie in her tweeds waving us off in a heavy downpour. Tortuous drive homeward. Six and a half hours! We sat for half an hour in a jam on the M1.

Bessie.

At Club St for 6:30. Mum has been in bed since Monday. She looked tired and thinner. Dad says that she is very 'weepy' and that Club St is too quiet for her. She needs people. I told him that they could come back to the noise of the Moorhouse whenever they liked. No need to linger in Bradford.

Sue came with Jim, Margaret and Julie. Sue so cheerful and bubbly. I cannot put on such a show. Sue cut Dad's hair. We watched 'Minder' and had fish and chips, and then, after Sue had left, we sat on Mum's bed giving a detailed account of our week in Hampshire. Bed - or more correctly - floor at 11. I couldn't sleep. We both lay tossing and turning.

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Wednesday April 10, 1985

 Chillandham Cross

Fine day. We went with Bessie and dear Sammy to Marwell Zoological Park. Bessie in a headscarf looking like the Sovereign Lady herself. We looked at the Vietnamese pot bellied pigs, &c. Strenuous walking. Samuel didn't enjoy it and he wailed a good deal. He is in a sweat all the time with his teeth. The cages at the zoo are covered in plaques bearing the names of the good people who have paid to 'adopt' the animals. We are told that Graham and Charlotte Smith have adopted a snowy owl here, but we saw no evidence of this. I find zoos sickening really. The inmates always look suicidal. Lunch at Ch. Cross. We left Samuel with Bessie and went shopping at 3. Shoes for Ally and a Khaki creation for Sam. TV tonight. 'Dallas'. Gin & tonic. _________.

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Tuesday April 9, 1985

 Chillandham Cross

At Chillandham Cross.

To Winchester all day. Frank gave me a cheque for £13 for my birthday. I want Kenneth Rose's 'George V' in hardback. Impossible. Ally bought a Laura Ashley creation (£33) and had her hair played with (£11).

Phoned Dad. Mum has been in bed all day and has eaten nil. Sue had visited with the boys and no doubt exhausted her. 

At 6:30 we went to Salisbury (Ally looking beautious in her new off the shoulder number and sweeping hair, &c). Got £2.80 seats at the playhouse to see 'And Then There Were None' by Agatha C. Because of the race relations fiasco the play can no longer be called 'Ten Little Niggers'. Not a good play, but we were entertained. To the Salisbury Berni (inn). (Newly done out) at 9:30. T-bone steaks, &c. Home for 11:30. Sam had had another bad night and was keeping Bessie on the go. It's his teeth.

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Monday April 8, 1985

 Chillanadham Cross

Bank Holiday in the UK (except for Scotland)

Out we went with Samuel for a muddy walk down the lane. Ally squealed in horror at the sight of a flattened frog. She is so deliciously squeamish. Frank, a workaholic, went off to Southampton to sit in his empty office and so later we took Bessie to Alresford to look at swans and the Watercress Line, &c. Bright and warm. The second hand book shop was open and I managed to get lost amidst the Spy cartoon reproductions. Ally was livid. Samuel squealed at all the dogs and children. He really does need a friend. Such a cute, affectionate child. I do loathe Bank Holidays and the silly sheep-like mob. I do not like to be counted as one of them. This evening, to the Otter at Otterbourne, the Hut at Chandlers Ford - squalid. Then to Southampton. The Oriental is no longer a Berni Inn and so we slummed it in Portswood at the miserable Berni Inn there and we returned home at 10:30. Samuel was awake and weeping copiously for a worried Graham Dixon. Oh dear.

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Sunday April 7, 1985

 Easter Day

Chillandham Cross, Martyr Worthy

The baptism of Simon Thomas James Dixon.

That awful Bishop of Durham now says that Christ didn't rise from the dead at all. Isn't it just bloody marvellous? Christ wasn't the result of a virgin birth either. I suppose Pontius Pilate didn't wash his hands and that Judas Iscariot played for Plymouth Argyle.

Samuel at Bembridge vicarage.

We took the ferry to the Isle of Wight from Portsmouth. Sam in full Victorian naval outfit. Just us. with Frank, Bessie. Andrew and Lorraine followed the Mercedes in Bessie's car. He's looking for one of his own. The crossing took 25 minutes. I sat gulping down my anti-dog pills and a bearded gentleman sitting opposite was smiling to himself thinking I must be sea sick. The sea was like a mill pond. Graham met us with Michael Lynn. Drove to Bembridge. All Victoriana. Church impressive. Service short. I sat beneath a stone tablet to Admiral Sir Francis Tottenham, GCB. Back to a buffet at the vicarage for a couple of hours. Samuel was something of a show stealer. Simon is huge, reminiscent of a 1914 photo of Great-Aunt Elsie. Back at Chillandham Cross for 7. Out to the Bush at Ovington and the Horse & Groom at Alresford later - just the two of us. Phoned Dad.

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Saturday April 6, 1985

 5, Club Street, Lidget Green

Little Frances is 4. Fine day. Hideously hungover. I went and lay on Mum's bed. She was breathing very heavily as though she was fighting. She smiled and remarked that I was laid in a very similar position 30 years ago too. 

We packed and left at 10:30. Samuel, so very well behaved. A jolt saying goodbye to Mum. On the journey south I was sick on the hard shoulder of the M1. Last night's steak au poivre and broccoli. To Winchester without a break. A sunny arrival at about 3pm. Bessie was gardening. We had tea and cake. She doesn't go over the top or go bananas on seeing Samuel. She believes in re-introducing herself to her grandson very gradually. 

Tonight we had a turkey dinner. I phoned Dad. To bed very early.

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Friday April 5, 1985

 5 Club Street, Lidget Green, Bradford

Good Friday. My 30th birthday. Who would have ever thought it would be such a day? We woke up on the floor at Club St. Sleeping bags, &c. I took my birthday cards upstairs and we sat opening them on Mum & Dad's bed. Samuel loves singing 'happy birthday'. He always thinks it's for him. Mum's card was very touching with such weak handwriting. These anniversaries are a strain for her. The next big one is June 19. God knows what will be happening by then. I walked out to the bakery and bought two dozen hot cross buns. A good breakfast. We walked out with Samuel investigating Lidget Green. I steered clear of our usual haunt - the old cemetery.

My birthday visitors.

TV this afternoon. Bliss. Just flopped down in armchairs. Mum struggled out of bed at 5. I took some photographs. The others came here at 8. John and Janette last at 8:30. To the 'Fire Brigade' pub - awful Tetley's. Then at 9:30 to Mamma Mia's Pizzeria on Manningham Lane. The eight of us crammed around two very tiny tables. An excellent intimate dinner. Lashings of vino. Lynn appalled at my Bacchanalian attitude. ____. The Italian waiter came out with a small, round chocolate cake. All back to Club Street. I was violently sick on the garden wall. Went up to see Mum who was asleep and drugged. Downstairs I broke down and wept.

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