Moorhouse Inn
Snow has fallen through the night and the moor looks like Gstaad today. Ally took Samuel out to the bank and the market at 9. Poor Maureen downstairs has had one hell of a weekend. Sam (her husband) suffered a heart attack in Rotherham on Friday night, only a mild one, but she's been traveling back and forth visiting. His singing days are numbered.
Samuel's confidence is growing and he can totter around the lounge from one end to the other. He no longer looks like a baby especially in his short sleeved shirt. He looks like a boy. He brightens our day. God knows how glum we would all be if we didn't have him tottering around. Dave G has sent Sam a birthday card containing a £5 note. The proud godfather doing his duty. Donna Lea has spoken to Ally re toilet paper, &c. She might call in on Thursday evening. We have a list of things for her.
Pool night. Six players. Christmas has made a mess of our routine 'games night'. Samuel woke at 10:30 and so Maureen had to walk home in the snow. The boy had a bad night, and so did we.
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