Saturday October 12, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds

Sunshine and warmth. I feel groggy. Tired and headache. Ally went off with Samuel and walked into town with the pushchair. Leeds was heaving with shoppers and a plethora of buskers. A bloody noisy nuisance they are. I stayed here and sat upstairs looking at the ceiling. __________. Ally came back and I was wallowing in a state of misery. Not good really. She wrongly assumes that at times like this I am unhappy with her. Of course I am not. We played at making the lounge look like Ypres, the battle. That is Samuel and I. He is into demolition in a big way. So good. He is out of nappies for most of the time and is dry, but occasionally, at times of great excitement, puddles appear. A quiet pub. Just Gary and I tonight. 

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