Moorhouse Inn
Christmas Eve, and strange as it may seem it wasn't horrible. Out to the shops at dawn to buy booze, poultry and more booze. The car groaned beneath the vast weight. Ally went out again at 11, and I blew up balloons to festoon the tap room. Mum phoned to say they'd be with us for 12, and they did just that. Mum negotiated the stairs and puffed and panted to the top. We sat in the sun drenched lounge eating salmon sandwiches from the Minton china. Well, why not. Mum looked shocking in the afternoon. It is so good to have them here. The greatest Christmas present we could have asked for. Let us hope to God it won't be Mum's last. Life without Mum will be one Hell of a lot gloomier. It isn't until something like this happens that you realise how much you like your life for the other people in it. I have always done things to please her. The void will be unbearable. We only have one mother, don't we? Not hideously busy in the bars. I kept nipping upstairs this evening. Placido Domingo or Pavarotti was on the telly. It is a shock for me to see Mum slumped in a chair with no energy or bounce. Will she ever regain strength or is this the beginning of her deterioration?
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