Tuesday December 25, 1984

 Moorhouse Inn

Christmas Day. Up bright and cheerful, 'O Come All Ye Faithful' blasting away on the stereo followed by Nat King Cole which choked me a bit. Mum was up and dressed in red and wearing a party hat for 10 o'clock when Lynn, Dave, Sue and Peter arrived with their multitude of offspring. Samuel was stunned at the sight of all the other children ripping open presents and playing with Christmas wrapping paper. We opened the pub from 11 until 1, and the day downstairs felt like a Sunday lunch type of day and wasn't over-festive. We were upstairs again by 2 o'clock and all the others left us, departing to Guiseley, and leaving us in peace. Mum cannot really cope with too much activity. I suppose it's very frustrating for her. Just as we sat down to lunch at 3 John and Janette came in with the children, except Hannah of course. Mum ate a good dinner but we didn't do anything too heavy. Turkey, new potatoes, asparagus, &c. We watched the Queen and then switched the box off. The TV is a nuisance at Christmas. The Queen spoke of family and showed a clip of the royal christening from last Friday (Prince Harry). A hoo-ha apparently because Princess Anne wasn't asked to be a godmother and so instead she went out to shoot rabbits on her Gatcombe Park estate. What rot. Collapsed after dinner. Mum becomes snappy on an afternoon, and realises this but can do nothing about it. Janette got her head bitten off for calling Dad 'Dad'. 'He's not your Dad', she growled. _________. Mum drifted back to bed at intervals. Dad was very pleased at the amount of lunch she consumed because her appetite is now non-existent. When Mum is out of the room Dad becomes very emotional. We gave them a Sam Chadwick print of Pen-y-Ghent and he knows exactly where it was painted from in Horton. F & B phoned and we all chattered. They sent us a gold carriage clock and we spent ages trying to get it to go. The battery was dead. A blissful evening with our feet up eating chocolates and drinking. I snored in an armchair for an hour or so. Mum enjoyed a sip of something called 'Beachcomber Cream' . By 11 we were all bushed. Dad and I had a pile of salmon sandwiches after Mum and Ally had retired and he very touched at our Christmas together and despite the sadness we all have etched upon us it has been a Christmas day of peace and thankfulness because we are so fearful of what next year might bring.

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