Moorhouse Inn, Leeds
Day off. We escaped to Club Street and the domestic delights of our Bradford nest. We could never let Club Street go. If I won £48m on one Mr Maxwell's Bingo games we'd keep Club Street. Yes, we might also acquire a chateau in the Loire Valley but Ash Tree Cottage is here to stay. Samuel loves the place too and says 'cottage' when we pull up outside. The day was blustery and fine and so we went to Duckworth Lane and the Co-op where we squabbled about what to eat - eventually picking up some ridiculous Findus salmon and cod creations at a £1 each. To Cheap 'n Cheerful and then home for lunch. Ally phoned Bessie and a contractor about our damp. Yes, we have damp in both our homes. Bessie says that Simon has a lump on his back and has to go to Bristol to see a paediatrician. I had a gloomy hour sticking some of Dad's photos in an album. Only last year Mum was bouncing around all tanned with that gleaming smile. After Sam's nap we went out for a walk, but the wind and violent rain drove us home. Sam slept in the middle of our bed and we reclined in chairs with books. A ghastly epic 'Superman III' was on TV which we only half watched (we have taken our tiny black and white portable Tv back there). We returned to Leeds for 11:30. The pub had been quiet because of a 'do' at the Canning Street Club to which the cream of Beeston society attended. Sam was restless in bed. He must be too old for this bedroom shuttle.
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