Moorhouse Inn
Out this morning into town to swap things at Marks and Spencers. Bought our son a pair of blue shoes for £8.99. Daylight bloody robbery.
Mr Tebbit has returned to work, three months after the Brighton bomb. Samuel Rhodes is growing in confidence on his feet and spends more and more time tottering around. Hard to believe he is one year-old tomorrow.
Mum has made it quite clear she wants to say at the Moorhouse and not return to Swaledale or Guiseley. However, the brewery won't like the idea of us taking in lodgers, but we'll keep our cards close to our chest and not inform them. I do not want Rob Piper knowing because the dear boy is such a blabber-mouth.
Ally stayed upstairs tonight, cleaning furiously. Cousin Sam appeared and asked about seeing Dad and he went away long-faced when I said he wasn't coming downstairs and into the pub tonight. Mum was watching a James Garner film. Ally and I do a good deal of whispering in corners these days.
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