20250510

Wednesday July 31, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn/ Full Moon

Waltergarth.
The last day of this foul, wet July. Surely the nastiest summer in this millennium? Sunny start, but wet later. We went at 9 o'clock to Horton. I drove. I collected my photos from DH first. I stuck a snotty note to his vehicle. Poor Waltergarth. It is hard to describe the complete and utter feeling of loss. I can say nothing to Dad. Sue made a large stew to ward off the cold and we washed it down with cans of strong pale ale. The Nason boys are such a handful. I took my usual afternoon nap and then we walked to find the Troll under the rickety rackety bridge. Jim and Margaret N came. Jim spent the afternoon fixing Dad's lawn mower. I set to and set about the jungle with an appliance belonging to a neighbour. Hard work. I haven't cut grass since Pine Tops. This evening we went to the boring Crown and I drank everything except the awful bitter. Three tattooed skinheads sat farting. Dad baby sat for an hour and then Jim and M took over and allowed him to join us. Sue sat nursing the flea-infested pub moggy. We left at 11. Sammy wide eyed in the back wrapped in a car rug.

-=-

No comments:

Post a Comment

Saturday September 14, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn New Moon It was an early rise because of our darling son and heir, who had no qualms about getting his drunken Papa out of be...