Moorhouse Inn
Horrific day. Stocktake at 10:30. We accept these events as routine and do not worry about them. The Why Not pub days are gone. But aarrgghh. ... We had a £300 defecit today. Gallons of Diet Pils are missing. The equivalent of five 9 gallon casks. Some sick joke, surely? We suspect Ron Brooks. Were the containers full when he returned them on June 13? Which ever way you look at it I am in deep shit. It's the sack probably. We cannot accept that a member of staff is giving away the lager from under our noses. No, it's Ron Brooks or a thieving dray team. I am angered to Hell. Our evening ruined. I spoke to Donna (Lea) who put on her serious voice, but isn't remotely Fran O'Brien-ish. The annoying thing is that it makes us look like crooks. The deficit also comes off my 1986 bonus. What an evil blow. The stocktaker is going to see Ronnie Simpson today and ask him to recal his visit here on the morning of June 13 with R. Brooks in the cellar. It's futile now. The deficit is £357.62. Ugh.
John was saying last night that private health care had done nothing for Mum and she might as well have been 'done' on the NHS. This is not so. For the few remaining months she had she was at ease with Mr Hall, and Armitage. She never endured a public hospital ward surrounded by hysterectomies. That could not be contemplated.
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