Moorhouse Inn
A quiet day. It was hardly worth opening. Mum and Dad stayed in bed late. She became more hideously yellow this afternoon, even her scalp where the yellow glowed through her hair. We went down to see Audrey in the bar but I came back upstairs at 2 and lay on the bed chatting to Mum. We ate a carbon-copy Christmas lunch at 3:30. Ally cracked a tooth on the Christmas pudding which had become brittle being over-cooked in the microwave. The piece of tooth hit the table with a crack and then disappeared. Archie came in pissed tonight and I gave him a few harsh words and off he went in a huff. A quiet gloomy evening.
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