Moorhouse Inn
A horrible, sad day. A quiet lunchtime in the pub. At 1:30 Dad and I set off for Horton and from the start our emotions were damp to say the least. It was getting away from Mum, you see. We didn't have to keep smiles on our faces and we both blubbered in the Renault on the drive up. We stopped at the Anchor Inn at Gargrave for a pint of Theakston's. Dad spoke of the future. He will stay on at Waltergarth regardless, and carry on with bed and breakfasts without Mum. The sight of Pen-y-Ghent shrouded in snow was quite beautiful. The house, in darkness, was so sad. I was choked. I haven't ever seen the house without Mum bustling around. The neighbour Frances appeared and as she was leaving a woman phoned to book a week in August, and I had to tell her we could take no bookings due to Mum's illness. At this I crumbled. We packed up Mum's clothes. A nightmare. We left at 5:30 and returned to Club Street, then stopped off at the White Cross for a drink. Home for 6:30. Mum was bright. She had mixed some pancake mixture for her evening repast. Mum and Dad offered to baby-sit and Ally and I went over to the Butcher's Arms at Pudsey at 8:30. Saw Phil (of Phil and Denise fame), and then my cousin, Derek Myers. On at 10:30 to Jacomelli's on Boar Lane (Leeds) for T-bone steaks and a bottle of wine. Quite pissed. Ally says that Sarh phoned at 2 to say that a couple had been to the front desk at the YP asking for me. But who?
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