Moorhouse Inn
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| Horton-in-Ribblesdale |
Dad and I went to Horton to rescue the ailing house plants. We took the Christmas tree in the car boot, feeling glum with ourselves. He cannot understand how Mum can be so ill-tempered. Who wouldn't be grumpy knowing they had only months to live? We went to Settle and had a few drinks at the Talbot. I was pissed. At Waltergarth the plumbing was adrift and so Dad phoned Greaves & Warrington but they cannot get here until Saturday. We sat drinking home brew. I told Dad that he should keep the place and retain a home for himself afterwards. He assured me that he would not become a parasite like his horrible father did. We got back at 6. Mum had expected us back at 4.
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