Monday June 3, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

Warm. Ron Brooks appeared and so did the new, odd stocktaker. His name escapes me. We have a £50 defecit but I do not worry. The stock is invariably up. We went skipping out into the sun at 12:30 and Ally, Sam, Dad and I escaped down the M1 to freedom. A holiday for 10 whole days. We broke off at the Crossroads Motel at Weedon and sat outside with a £2 ploughman's lunch consisting of a tiny brown roll and half a tomato. Samuel beat his grandad with a large stick.

Near the Bush at Ovington.

At Chillandham Cross we sat in the garden with tea and buns and Bessie. She said nothing about Mum at first and seemed stuck with how to handle it. What can she say? Frank was struck similarly dumb. We ate. We went to the Bush at Ovington with Dad. Sat in a corner. The place is grubby as ever.

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