Moorhouse Inn
I have the most disgusting hangover I have perhaps ever experienced. Ally too lay whimpering beneath the quilt and refused to climb out of bed. I had to persuade Maureen to open up at 11 and I stood around red-eyed. I made a lasagne and pies, and fed Samuel. Poor Terry (Teri/Terri/Theresa/Teresa??) came in to work and I sprawled upon the settee and slept. Ally found some inner strength and climbed out of bed to cook. Audrey enjoyed it and found it a huge joke. Then, at 2pm, when the calm of post-lunch activity descended who should appear but David and Jean Watts with the Dowager Watts and Hannah. I could have died. We gave them coffee and attempted conversation, but I had to make an exit to spew up. Have you ever tried to vomit quietly? Back in the lounge I think my indisposition had gone undetected. David W is going to college in Leeds on Tuesdays and they will be back in a few weeks when we will be in a better situation.
Mum and Dad came back at 5. She is always 'done in' after travelling.
Andy Bowden's last night. He attempted to persuade me to buy him a drink at 11pm but I told him to be gone. Staggered to bed bleary-eyed and at deaths door.
-=-
No comments:
Post a Comment