Sunday March 3, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

2nd Sunday in Lent

with dear Phyllis.

Drizzle. Up for a full-English. Samuel is much better behaved without the influence of his doting grandad and devoured his bacon and eggs splendidly. Today is day one of our new stream-lined system and I worked 12-2 with Margaret and 7-11 with Mavis. Enjoyable really. I always did enjoy Sundays in the bar. We had a 'knobbly knees' contest at 2pm and Geoff's wife Phyllis fell on top of me demolishing a chair. All in good fun. Terry Egan has legs like a Christmas turkey. 

At 3 I drove Ally and Sam to Pudsey where we spent an hour at Wilsby. Mum was bright and pretty, and sitting in the bay window eating an orange. Hilda is such a good tonic. Tony busy as ever. Di came in covered in muck from renovating her Calverley home. Sam was hot and petty. He cried on seeing Uncle Tony and pulled a large 'pet lip' on catching sight of Pepper, the frustrated terrier. Dad looked pale and fed up. Home for prawn cocktails, chops, &c. by candlelight. Snoozed afterwards but struggled down at 7 to do my bit.

-=-