Tuesday January 7, 1986

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds, LS11 5NQ

A 7am start again. What long days we have. Samuel is still raving about 'Agadoo', dancing with Lucy the dolly and his Teddy. We are being driven slowly insane. We went up Dewsbury Road together and collected his £28 family allowance lolly which we later went out and spent on a grey velvet suit with knee length trousers and bow tie. Wearing it he looks edible. For his birthday party of course. Grey shoes to match. Even at his tender age he is aware he is wearing something new and stands so proud. Young Liz worked PM. Stone dead. I stayed below to keep an eye on her but drifted off for a cup of tea only to fly back down in horrific haste because I had left THIS volume on a shelf behind the bar and visions of her prying into my innermost recesses. I often compile this journal as I stand behind the bar on quiet, long, wintry evenings. Leaning against a dormant beer pump shrouded in cobwebs and layers of dust --- the place echoing with long forgotten ghost-like voices of customers asking 'pint of bitter, Guv'ner'. Politics tonight. Old Harold says that Britiain will become the 51st US state, and that Mrs T is a 'dictator'. Harold Wilson, he says, was a 'Spiv'.

-=-

Monday January 6, 1986

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds, LS11 5NQ

Epiphany

Gone but no forgotten: Lord Derwent, CBE; Lord David Cecil, CH; Dustin Gee; Phil Lynott ....

Forgotten but not gone: Pearl Carr and Teddy Johnson, Judith Chalmers, Lord Lucan.

The feast of the Epiphany, &c. Dawn start. 7am. Very dark. Gave Ally and egg, and Sam a crumpet and then to Leeds Market at 8 to buy pies and cheap cuts of meat. Came away with bags of fatty, pink flesh which made Ally bilious. We saw Marjorie Murphy, a plain, slow little woman to be sure. Back at the pub I had three customers this afternoon. Thirty three and a third of them were ex-Gestapo. Things are going to have to change. I told Audrey that our staff hours are going to have to be cut next week. Se sneered and said that they were always the same until we came on the scene. _________. Steamed fish for dinner. Played with Samuel at building brick towers and then demolishing them. He is such a good talker. He loves the stereo and danced, clutching his Teddy, to 'Agadoo' by Black Lace. Phoned Dad at 7. He phoned his sister Dorothy last night and after the wedding he is going on to Blackpool for the night. He has spent today brewing (ale) and ironing. _____. A dead night. Margaret worked. Later watched a tv documentary on Terence Conran. Very good. What an enterprising old stick.

-=-

Sunday January 5, 1986

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

2nd Sunday after Christmas

Downstairs this morning to conclude stripping the pub of its Yuletide finery. It looked a drab place afterwards. January will be stone dead now. The lunchtime takings were lamentable. £89 or thereabouts. Silly. Up at 2:30 for the Eastenders omnibus, roast beef, Yorkshire puddings. Samuel is probably cutting some back teeth. Rosy cheeks and a temper this afternoon. _______. Liz and Chris worked tonight. Stone dead again. Like Tales from the Rue Morgue. I stayed upstairs with my ailing wife who was laid propped up with pillows and wearing a baggy dressing gown. Cary Grant in a Hitchcock movie. Silly scenes on Mount Rushmore. Cary Grant tussling on Teddy Roosevelt's nostrils, &c. Dad phoned at 8:30 to say he has received a wedding invitation. My cousin Guy Maxwell Holland (Dorothy's third child) is to marry on January 18, at St Helen's, Merseyside, to one Carmel Patricia Corcoran. Dad wasn't wearing specs and giggled. Did he mean Carol? (No he was right in the first instance). He asked if he should go, and I responded with a definite 'yes'. I am all for family reunions, and life is too short for acrimony, except for where uncle John Wilson is concerned. _______.

-=-

Saturday January 4, 1986

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds, LS11 5NQ

Yesterday Ally bought Hilda flowers and bunch of tea roses for Mum's grave which we took to the cemetery before Katie's party. Samuel thinks Granny Rhodes lives in a pretty garden and his waves at her headstone. Very touching. 

Today: I did lunch alone. So quiet. Only the Egans, Jack Collett, &c. Ally made steak and kidney for dinner. This baby is a little beggar. Ally is breathless, nauseous, tired, worn out and weak kneed. Surely, it cannot go on? Aren't we over the worst?

Liz worked. Dim as a Toc H lamp. Afterwards, I went around at 11:30 taking down the Christmas decorations. Bernie, aghast, said this was a terrible thing to do and will bring bad luck down on our house.

-=-

Friday January 3, 1986

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

Fat little Katie is three today. It's three years today since we went through that Fred Karno's circus routine on Thorpe Lane. I have no hangover, which is interesting. Do keep off the beer, Michael. To Hilda's at 12. (I had previously phoned them at 10, and Sam had said "Tony, Porridge"). Samuel has been an angel. Hilda had bathed him, put him to bed and says he had been 'as good as gold'. Hilda has enjoyed having Samuel and says she will help when the baby comes along. Crisp and cold. I walked over to the fish and chip shop at Waterloo and saw my hideous uncle John Wilson, puffing on his pipe in his car parked outside. I ignored the swine. His wife Kathleen Powell was in the shop but didn't recognise me. What a wrinkled old thing she is. A Mother Theresa look-alike in fact. As we drove through Pudsey we saw Mabel but didn't stop. She waved. On to Katie's birthday party. Dad there. Lynn is a good organiser of childrens' games. All very Tranmere Park though. Tonight MM, Marita and Dave L appeared. Marita announced that she wants to go live in Tenerife. _______.

-=-

Thursday January 2, 1986

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

Bank Holiday in Scotland

Mum & Dad's birthday, but with that awful feeling of loss. I phoned Horton and found Dad to be out and Sue to be in. I phoned later. Samuel sang 'happy birthday' which was sweet. It must be a dreadful day for Dad today but suppose that Susie is using all her powers to keep him smiling. We took Samuel to Hilda's at 5 o'clock. I had a large whisky with Tony. Hilda was wearing one of Mum's dresses. Touching. Samuel seemed to settle with Hayley's toys and at 6 we escaped. Ally looking delicious in her new mohair creation. Her hair is superb these days. To the Menston Arms where we accosted the landlord, a man in his 60s, who says that Sam Smith's brewery are 'the most unprincipled bastards' he has ever encountered. He is due to retire in two years and Ally and I had the same thought. We would go to the Menston Arms before any other pub, and Leslie Gledhill is the area manager here. We shall have to push ourselves for this one and see what LG has to say. To the Hare & Hounds for 7:30. We the first to arrive and stood at the bar. I drank whisky and stayed off the beer. Susie and Pete came in next with Dad, who looked scruffy._______. He was distant and struggling to keep control. We dined at 8:30 or 9 on a table for 10. I cringed. There was an empty chair next to Dad. Steaks all round. Me a Porterhouse. Ally a fillet. Jolly, jovial dinner. At the salad bar away from Dad Susie whispered that Dad had broken down at the New Year. To Sue's afterwards. Whisky. Marx Brothers. Home at 1.

-=-

Wednesday January 1, 1986

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

New Years Day - Bank Holiday in the UK

The Moorhouse Inn.

Awful morning. Ally disgusted at my drunken arrival to bed in the early hours took off  and slept in Samuel's room. Morning came and we were both in bed with Samuel pleading with us to get up, plodding between the bedrooms. I ventured out and staggered around making breakfast. Ally had scrambled eggs in bed. I opened up at 11 with bloodshot eyes and my hair standing on end. Busy lunch. The place went mad with revellers topping up from last night. The argument in the tap room about 'Gone With the Wind' versus the racing went on, and an old man called Tom sloshed a pint over old George. Scuffles followed. No blood. Tom was ejected with his coat in shreds. A festive start to the year. Phoned Dad again. Ally slightly peeved that no family have phoned us with good wishes. Quiet night. Chris worked again. He has been something of a god send this Christmas.

-=-

Tuesday December 31, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

Bernie McCarron.

Ally opened up and so we got into town early where Ally found a woollen mohair dress, green and red, for £45 and a red handbag and shoes. 'Gone With the Wind' this afternoon. What an exceedingly long and silly film full of people overacting. Vivien Leigh really should be thoroughly ashamed of herself. Is she still with us? Old men in the tap room squabbled over the telly. Racing from Newbury, they decide, is more important than Scarlet O'Hara. I tend to agree. Not a busy night. Chris worked. I hit the Diet Pils and the hour of merriment and ringing of bells is now lost in a fuzzy wuzzy Auld Lang Syne, &c. I did run upstairs minutes after midnight to kiss my wailing Piglet. My eyes were similarly wet. The coming of the New Year can be an emotional moment and this one is particularly jerking. What an evil year '85 was. Perhaps we will breathe better in '86.Perhaps we will be able to lead a life again without black shadows. 'Time is a great healer'. The man who said that should be shot.  No, castrated. Chris stayed in the bar until 2am with Bernie and Frank McCarron. Quiet. Phoned Dad at 1am. He was distant and no doubt Horton-in-Ribblesdale was awash with tears. I don't remember any of the conversation.

-=-

Monday December 30, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

Dear Brown.

Quiet day. Michael Brown came again today with another journalist whose name escapes me, who works in Aldershot at the moment, but plans to write news bulletins for radio. Michael told me he is now banned from drinking with his father after their last, long drinking session here. Old Mrs B was livid. They left here that Saturday afternoon at 4:30 in pouring rain, and both stood urinating in a bus stop on Dewsbury Road to be verbally abused by a passing clergyman's wife. Harold Brown arrived home, wringing wet, saying he was 'poorly'. "Pissed, more like" exclaimed the irate and quick tempered Mrs B. 

To town at 4 but forgot to take the trousers back. We had bought Dad a pair with a 36 inch waist when he needs 38ins. Bought Dad a diary for his 1986 bookings. Ally too tired and the place was too busy.

-=-

Sunday December 29, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

1st Sunday after Christmas

We ate roast beef which was too rare and oozing with blood - no good for Ally at all. Watched Erroll Flynn in 'Robin Hood' again. Played with Samuel. My Uncle Albert died at 2:30am on this day in 1969.

Tonight. Quiet. But who should appear but Richard and Debbie with Philip Middlebrough. You know, they used to be Richard and Eileen, who hosted the 'Pink Eagle' party in November 1979.Whatever happened to poor Eileen? They were talking as though I was a youngster, and thought I was only 25 which cheered me greatly. Debbie is an Aries too - April 4. She seemed to warm to my star sign. Ally disappointed at feeling too poorly to come down.

-=-

Saturday December 28, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds, LS11 5NQ

A fancy dress evening in which I did not participate. Not a good turn-out. A few elves, pixies, a Cinderella and a Prince Charming. I raffled the hideous garden gnome that some wag had presented to me, and it was won by Terry and Doreen. They fell out with the Gestapo whilst holidaying with them in the summer. By Gestapo of course I mean Werner and Hildegarde, our Teutonic lounge customers. They all expected 'afters' but got none. We are having no 'stoppybacks' when Ally is feeling so ill.

-=-

Friday December 27, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

Peter & Hilda.

A bloody kindergarten this place is. Sue is a slave to her children and they were up at dawn running rings around her. Pete was laid, legs akimbo, beneath his duvet. Samuel delights in other children and plays excellently. Roll on July. Dad took the Nasons back to Guiseley at 11. We were left alone. What a tremendous help Dad has been this week. He is such a good, brave man. Hilda looked sad yesterday watching all the children play. I know what she was thinking. ___________. We collapsed this afternoon. Three hours of 'Ben Hur'. Charlton Heston won the chariot race, yet again. Seafood pancakes. Chris Mawson worked PM. I put on sandwiches and things for Cliff, who was 70 yesterday.

-=-

Thursday December 26, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

Ally and Samuel.

Boxing Day. A family party. Ally feverishly cutting up left-over turkey and pork pies. I opened up. Dad drove over to Guiseley for Sue. Hilda and Tony came at 11:30. She has had a new car for Christmas. A Fiat tied up with a bow outside No. 6 St. James's Crescent. Dad went on and on about Colonel Gadaffi owning Fiat. It was news to me. But then I have become a 'news no go' area since quitting the YP. At one time I would have known instantly just who was chairman of the CBI, and prime minister of Iraq, but now it's all awash. The Bakers came for a few hours. Lynn and Hilda are not on the same wavelength as we are. John and Janette didn't come until about 7pm. Janette was slightly 'off-ish' and announced that they would not be staying the night. I was news to John. ______. Ally, not feeling too good, stayed upstairs. Sue was fun. She continues to have nightmares about her baby, and debates the name he'll be given. A daughter is to be Samantha. Peter was great fun. He mixed cocktails. It was a late night but not one of over-intoxication. Jayne Waite phoned asking Janette and John to go back to Menston to finish the night. ______.

-=-

Wednesday December 25, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

Dad in his tatty pyjamas, and Sam.

Christmas Day. Oh, what memories. We woke at 8, and lay abed with cups of tea. Dad joined us in his tatty pyjamas. Down to open Samuel's presents. It was the start of a magical day for him. He was as good as gold throughout. He found a large Postman Pat car from Winchester, and we gave him a wooden tool kit with a hammer, pegs and spanners, &c. Dad put the turkey in the oven. A 15lb thing. We opened between 11am and 1pm. The usual faces. We took £140. Audrey worked and I relaxed my 'no staff drinks' ban. Large whiskies abounded. It was all a very pleasant atmosphere though. Will Christmas mean anything at all to me when I'm old and grey? I think we should love the magic of Christmas even when one has experienced it seventy or eighty times and not be cynical about it. We closed at 1 and went upstairs. A long, happy lunch with Ally, Dad and Samuel. The TV only went on at 3pm for The Queen. This year we saw no scenes of family life at Windsor with the royal kiddies, which was sad. But HM knows what she is doing, no doubt. We lounged and played. I hung Ally's amethyst earrings in a cracker on the tree and she didn't discover the gift until later. We put on records and danced to Wham and Boy George. Dad washed up. Sam to bed. TV at night. No tears or overwhelming sadness. Mum wouldn't have wanted that.

-=-

Tuesday December 24, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

Ally very poorly. Vomit, pains, &c. When Samuel went down at noon she went too. I was alone making seafood pancakes. Dad was late. He didn't get here until 6pm. Sue had been having a soirée at Thorpe Lane. Dad looked tired. Chris here tonight. Worked like stink. Not over festive. Dad went to the Station (pub) for gas. Upstairs for 12:30am. Had a large stiff drink by the large stiff Christmas tree. 

-=-

Monday December 23, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

Busy. Stocktake. Good old Ronnie came. He gave us a £140 surplus. I do not like surpluses. The next one will be £140 down. Baked mince pies and played Christmas carols on the stereo. Samuel thinks carols are dull, and says so. He prefers Feargal Sharkey. LG appeared with a calendar for '86 and a smile. I told him of Ally's condition and off he went giggling saying "it's nice to get them all over with early". Little does he know that this is only the beginning. He didn't want to discuss figures or be gloomy at this time of festive rejoicing. Silly prat. We rushed into town at 3:30 and the place was mad. Ally was feeling bad and couldn't buy anything but I went to Dyson's and Denton's and bought a pair of amethyst earrings for £65 and a bottle of Diorissimo for £15. I do love pig so very much. She looked faint. Samuel didn't like the experience of a packed Leeds Market. Laura Ashley was stripped of contents - panic buying. We should buy shares.

-=-

Sunday December 22, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

4th Sunday in Advent

Crisp & cold. A pink and yellow sky as JPW Turner would have splodged, or was he JWP or JPM? We went over to Guiseley at 3 and sat in Harry Ramsden's carpark eating chips. Sam enjoyed the adventure. Then, to the cemetery to see poor Mum with some carnations and Chinese orchids. It was biting cold and I had no coat. Stood mutely looking at the slab of stone. Lynn had been before us with some unopened daffodils. On to John and Janette's for whisky, and a nurse of Charlotte. JPH and Catherine were there watching 'Ghostbusters'. JPH wearing a gold chain. __________. On to Lynn's. The scrubbed kids were watching a Dickens serial. Lynn called it "Twist". ______. Liz phoned in sick at 6:50pm, and Chris, an angel Gabriel to be sure, worked instead at a moments notice.

-=-

Saturday December 21, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

Shortest Day

Dear Brown.

A juvenile bastard smashed a window in the tap room last night at 12 as we were locking up. Not a customer of course. Dad went home. It's always sad to see him go. Samuel watched from an upstairs window and sobbed. Michael Brown and his father, old Harold, appeared at 1pm and remained until 4:30 or so. We argued about religion. Old Harold claims to be an atheist and he became very heated when Michael spoke of Christ and 'God incarnate' &c. Harold taunted his son. "Do the 12 million turkeys slaughtered this Christmas have souls too?" "No. Only humans go to heaven" explained Michael. "Well", said Harold, "heaven must be an awful place for a) St Francis of Assisi, b) Barbara Woodhouse,  and c) the Birdman of Alcatraz". Old Mrs Brown phoned and was fuming. They had spent too long here. I took Samuel down to see them. I do like Brown. Such a fun person.

-=-

Friday December 20, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

Do Christmas dinners. Pathetic really. We give food away. Later, hung pictures. Quiet tonight. Dad and I sat in the pub lounge by the Christmas tree, joined by a bespectacled Punjabi grandfather who asked me if he could possible hold a family party here with curry and Punjabi music. I readily said yes and giggled. Imagine Albert Taylor's face.

-=-

Thursday December 19, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

Uncle Peter appeared this afternoon with a pile of Christmas cards for the family.

We had a Christmas fuddle. We surprised Dad at 3:30 and took him to Da Mario's on the Headrow for a spot of Italian fayre. Panzerotto. Samuel was an angel and looked a little dot with his head peeping over the top of the round marble table. He ate minestrone soup, a lasagne, and an enormous multi-coloured ice-cream topped with a sparkler. He was so proud. We returned home at 5:30, very bloated. Maureen opened up at 5:30. Ally went to see Dr Sykes. ________. He tried to book her into the Clarendon Wing for the birth, but she refused. He was good with her but thinks she is an awkward customer. Why can't she be bloody awkward? Too many people around here are led these days like paraplegic sheep.

John, Janette and Peter Mather came and stayed for an hour after closing. They argued about love and marriage and John would not be drawn on the subject of a 1986 wedding despite Janette's constant reference to it. Only when I told them it would be quite improper for me to be his best man for the second time did John comment. He was emphatic. "Oh yes, you are going to be my best man". Dad burst into a smile. John had committed himself to matrimony. They left at 12 leaving Dad and I puzzling. Janette was unhappy at my coolness and at my criticism of March 14 for the wedding. She exclaimed that she had no idea that John's previous walk down the aisle had taken place on March 13.

-=-

Wednesday December 18, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

Brief writing because of Christmas. Full coverage will return in the New Year. We did Christmas lunches. Ally phoned her old Bradford doctor who refused, via his receptionist, to take her back for maternity care only. Ally was livid, but the medics there haven't won yet. She phoned Dr Sykes at Beeston Hill, and made an appointment for tomorrow at 5:40. Bloody Hell. We pay rates in Bradford, own a house there, and can see no reason why we cannot go to hospital there. We will lie and cheat in future. It doesn't pay to be honest. Ally phoned Sister Matthews at 5:30 who agreed with us and told us to transfer to a Bradford GP at an early date in the New Year. Busy night. We made food for a visiting choir who didn't appear until late and then were depleted (no tenor).

-=-

Tuesday December 17, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

Daddy came in at lunchtime as we were cleaning up after the decorators who came and finished daubing gloss paint in half an hour this morning. We hung pictures and curtains and made the room look lived in. Then, I drove Dad down to Morrison's where I bought a seven foot Christmas tree  and squashed it in the back of the car with him and Samuel. I had some difficulty with the gear stick and the tree trunk. Back at the Moorhouse we erected the tree in all its finery. I have always had an obsession with Christmas trees. They have to be just right.  Maureen opened up at 5:30. Spam sandwiches, &c.

-=-

Monday December 16, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

I'm writing this on the old pine table in our kitchen at 12:31am. _____. This time of ear is for children. It's a magical time which we should never spoil with adult problems. Not a steady day by any means. Up at 6am. The decorators came and started on our private lounge which should be finished by tomorrow. We went to Morrison's and spent £69 and then went to Linfood (4pm) and spent another £100. Samuel rode in the supermarket trolley like Ben Hur. We went on to the doctor at Paternoster Lane, Bradford. The evil receptionist, eating a large green apple, had a Dr Goebbels-like attitude and decided to be rude, but Ally stood her ground and insisted on seeing a doctor. Ally's quack, Dr Duck (her real name) is away having had a male duckling of her own, and so she saw a stand in doc who told her he would have to consult Dr Michie regarding Ally bringing forth George/Clemmie at the Bradford Royal Infirmary, but saw no major obstacles. Ally has to phone tomorrow for his deliberations. If he says 'no' then we shall find another Bradford GP. Ally refuses to go to the Clarendon Wing ...___. Samuel played excellently with a young lady in the waiting room who was waiting to see her doctor. I checked her out for spots and rashes and decided she must be there on a gynaecological visit. Am I perhaps a pervert? Liz Melvin in tonight. She was pale, but not pregnant. Her doctor has told her she is suffering from the side effects of the pill, giving her sick headaches. Did I really need to know this? The birth control pill is a nasty thing. The pool knock-out was a fiasco. It ended at 11:15pm.

-=-

Sunday December 15, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn Leeds LS11 5NQ

3rd Sunday in Advent

Lethargic. Ally and Sam slept upstairs like Angels in bed together (this is at 2pm). Two golden heads. I 'trimmed up' for Christmas below. Feeling far from festive. Later, the pub strongly resembled Santa's grotto. Ally nauseous. Watched 'Oliver Twist'.

-=-

Saturday December 14, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds, LS11 5NQ

N.A. Gadsby was born 50 years ago today. I posted a birthday card with a suitable ode inscribed within:

"For Fifty Years You have Walked this Earth,

Famed throughout from Pudsey to Perth,

Fun, with a Youthful Zest for Life,

Your Capacity for Industry is rife,

Your erections are admired in many places,

Look at the smiles on your clients faces,

This Nation of Ours cannot go wrong,

With Tony Gadsby leading the throng".....

N.A. Gadsby in earlier years.

Awful, eh? A terrible day. Ate nothing. My tummy has gone. I do wish that the bags under my eyes would go. I look like the news reader Peter Woods. Lynn phoned to say they would come here at 3pm. This they did. David looked bored and sat buried beneath one of Samuel's fairy story books, and flatly refused offers of a drink. Lynn had two barley wines which she splashed everywhere. We had to turn them down at Thorpefields for Christmas Day morning, but invited them here on Boxing Day (along with Sue & John which we arranged yesterday). Sadly, they have to be David's parents at Pool for 3pm on that day. They left at 5. Susan says Lynn still sobs and sobs over the loss of Mum, but she buries the heartache from everyone else.

-=-

Friday December 13, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

I can take anything that Friday the Thirteenth might throw at me because things cannot get any worse than the bad luck I've been hammered with already in '85.  At least the year has ended with very good news for us. Little Clementine Alice Nora Rhodes or George Tobias Albert Rhodes is on her/his way. 

Two staff PM. Chris and Liz. I expected John and Janette but they didn't materialise. So at 10pm I phoned to ask if they were on their way. John answered casually. I asked: "where the Hell are you?" He replied "I'm sat here watching the telly. Why?" Blast. Janette had failed to inform John that we had arranged to meet tonight and I felt bruised to be let down. I could have kicked myself. _______. To bed threatening to spend Christmas '86 in the Canary Islands. Sod Santa Claus. Goodwill? Bah, Humbug.

-=-

Thursday December 12, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds, LS11 5NQ

New Moon

Karen and Steve appeared at 10:30am and stayed for lunch until 2:30. Sam and Hayley are good friends. Very alike.

One year ago today poor Mum entered Airedale Hospital 'for tests'. A year of hell and misery. The very worst year of all our lives. Feeling low, I suggested to Ally that I wanted to go out to a disco and leap around. I don't have any wild sessions anymore. I am far too busy providing wild, happy times for others. Ally has never swooned over heaving discotheques. Instead, we went over at 4:30 to Susan's. Samuel thought it was a great adventure driving in the dark. We sat in Sue's cold, little lounge. I had whisky. Christopher is a psychopathic little man, banging the TV screen with a plank of wood, and assassinating us all, in his child's mind, with a plastic gun, a gift from Margaret N. Peter was very silent. He is now into Crown Green bowling on BBC2. I always thought of Sue as being like Mum, but she isn't. Neither of Mum's daughters take after her. I drove Pete (in our car) to the Chinese takeaway. I only killed three pensioners, four dogs and sixteen hedgehogs. Mounds of food. Was home at 8. TV. Yawn. Robin Day. Yawn. Auberon Waugh. Night, night.

-=-

Wednesday December 11, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

Made a few phone calls. Janette, &c. We are fuming about Lynn and her inability to come here. Are we not good enough for the Bakers of Tranmere Park? _________.

Ally still has very sick evenings. The three of us visited Dr Sykes (he had a particularly foul smelling office). He saw no harm in Ally transferring to Bradford for maternity matters. He told her to go see Dr Duck.

-=-

Tuesday December 10, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

We were tucking into our poached eggs at the breakfast table when Maureen shouted up that a stock taker was here. My blood ran cold. Sure enough Rob Young was downstairs. Looking at my letter from the brewery it says he was coming on 'THURSDAY December 10'. I hadn't spotted this error. He bashed on and gave us a £30 surplus. It left me feeling easier but I will not lift the staff drinks ban. A catastrophic lunch. We only took £55. Few lunches. Ally looked better. She went shopping and made a stew which we ate at 3:30. However, the meal disagreed with her and she sat with her hand clasped over her mouth for the evening.

Every year on this date my thoughts go down to Clarence House where, 42 years ago, the poor Duchess of York, laid low with influenza, rose up as Queen Elizabeth on the dreadful abdication of Edward VIII. Little old Leeds men, my customers, even now go on about 'the Prince of Wales' in the 1930s  as if he was one of them. I've witnessed it here in our tap room in 1985.

-=-

Monday December 9, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

Up feeling groggy at 8:30. Much too late. Had a headache until evening. Cold out. The Sunday Telegraph was frozen solid on the doorstep, and had been there since yesterday. The writer Robert Graves has pegged out aged 90. A good innings. Ally was a lot better. She got some ironing out of the way and was up and about more. She is beautiful. My wife has gorgeous hair and particularly stunning eyes. She can melt anything with those peepers. Later I used the downstairs phone and sat by the lit Christmas tree. Lynn was infuriated that we might not be going to see them at Christmas. She cannot come and see us here tomorrow because she is 'nipping out to Morrisons' and similarly on Wednesday she is 'nipping over to Macro with Pam'. It seems we have come second to frozen veg and packets of Typhoo tea. Phoned Sue. They will probably come here on Boxing Day - all of them - and might stay the night. She has morning sickness too. She cannot walk into a butcher's shop without throwing up. Phoned Dad. He has had a liquid lunch with Arnold which had carried on into the evening. Good for him. Phoned Hilda & Mabel, but in reverse order, to tell them of our baby news which had already been leaked by Papa. Hilda seemed low. Thomas, she says, 'has a funny neck'. Mabel spoke of Mum. It being December and all that, and the theme of her sermon was happiness 'because you have a wife and almost two babies to consider.' She did mean well. 'We will all miss her' she concluded. Liz worked. It was quiet. Ally was poorly tonight. Even at midnight she was bilious and propping up the bathroom sink.

-=-

Sunday December 8, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

2nd Sunday in Advent

Samuel loves his Advent calendar. Today it was a owl, or was it a donkey?  Do donkeys sit by moonlight in the branches of trees? Oh, I don't know. Ally was particularly bad today. She didn't get up until 2:30 and then lolled around on the settee threatening to be violently ill. Everything she eats smells and tastes funny. I also smell quite dreadful. She says it's the cigarette smoke and stale beer on my clothing. Bloody hell. Did the lunches alone. Went very well. Took £116 and kept nobody waiting. Heavy fog. Watched TV until 9pm (Mags opened up at 7). I was lethargic too and could have stayed upstairs by the fire. Margaret still supping glasses of iced water. We have more or less decided to keep the staff drink ban indefinitely. _____.

-=-

Saturday December 7, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

Dismal. Ally awful. Nausea, &c. Chris Wills came in and spent the afternoon with Audrey & Terry. I hid behind a customer at one point and listened as Audrey launched into a ridiculous and scandalous tirarde against me. I was shaking with amusement mingled with rage. She was complaining that I leave her every afternoon to clean up and lock up at 3:30. What she failed to say that at 3 o'clock on most afternoons three old men is a crowd. I shouldn't allow her to annoy me, but she does. I put in more working hours in this place than any of the previous managers, I'm sure. We now have only 50 staff hours. The Piries had 150 at least in December, 1983. I went down at 7. Chris and Liz in working. I propped up the bar and had a lager or two. Just to show I am the boss and can do as I please. The door opened at 7:30 and in came Sarah (Collis) and Trevor (Abbott) just for half an hour. They were heading to Trevor's yuletide 'do' at the Cambrian Hotel on Nineveh Street (Greer Garson?). Quiet. Much social intercourse. To bed, quite done in, at 1am.

-=-

Friday December 6, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

Dad went home at lunchtime via Guiseley. Samuel went to bed for his afternoon nap. He dotes on his grandad, who calls him "my little mate." Ally is a funny old thing. For two days she has appeared much better and she herself told Dad the he must think she's a fraud, but as soon has he had gone in his rusty old motor she had a relapse, was violently morning sick, and wobbly. The weather prevented me taking Sam for a walk. Fog, in fact. We ate those fish steaks in plastic bags - Ally's favourite at the moment. Steak and kidney is out. I was supposed to be adorning the pub with more Christmas decor, but couldn't be bothered. I am something of a Scrooge at the moment. Margaret worked tonight, drinking glasses of iced water, would you believe, and a bit sulky following my booze ban. 

-=-

Thursday December 5, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

A sad note in a Christmas card from Edna and Nellie this morning. Dad's cousin Vera Dean, 76, was struck by a car and killed on Nov 24 when leaving church in Bramley. She was on a pelican crossing . She has a brother, Arthur Dean, 73, and is the only daughter of Polly Dean (née Ross), sister of my great-grandmother, Christiana Rhodes (née Ross). We sat in bed with tea and biscuits. Dad was very saddened and he phoned Edna, who filled him in with the details. We went out. Wet, fog, drizzle. We bought a potted Christmas tree for  fiver. In the hustle and bustle of Leeds Market Dad says Dickens characters abound, and looking around they most certainly do. Dad loathes cities, especially Leeds, which he finds squalid. At 3:30 we went down and decorated the (Christmas) tree in the lounge and put up lights. Samuel's face was a picture. He sang 'Happy Birthday' at full throttle for some reason. _________.A night off. Dave L phoned from South Elmsall. He spoke about bees and aquaria, &c. Very chatty. He says he's coming here at Christmas with MM & Marita.

-=-

Wednesday December 4, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

Wet. Sue phoned at breakfast and spoke to Ally. She's suffering from morning sickness too. Dad appeared at 11am and went up for a coffee with Ally. She went to her hairdresser in Bradford and when she came back she looked groomed and healthier. I worked until Liz came in at 8:30 from her cleaning job at Schofield's or Lewis's. She thinks she is three months pregnant______. Mad Scots were in the tap room celebrating their win, or draw, over Australia, to put them through to next years World Cup in Mexico. Dad walked up the road and bought Chinese take-aways (£10 for three), and we dined upstairs at 8:30. Dad says that Janette is planning the wedding for March 14. He is doing nothing for Christmas. All his descendants are to receive a fiver. No Christmas tree at Horton, and he's sending no cards. Very sad. He has lost his spirit.

-=-

Tuesday December 3, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

Samuel and his grandad

Poor little Samuel must wonder what is the matter with mummy. When should she see a doctor? She says she'll see one at 12 weeks which takes us to January 1st. I went over to Hunslet and had a haircut. Samuel found a little girl to play with in the barbers. It's obvious how outgoing he is. A little leader. The girl was at least twice his age and yet he bossed her about. This afternoon we completed our Christmas cards - 41 or so, and Ally wrapped presents. Samuel and I climbed into the bath together. He washed my knees and I washed his. I worked from 5:30. People had to wait. The British are famed for queuing aren't they? It was quiet. I managed nicely. Dad phoned to say he will come for a couple of days. He seemed concerned at Ally's condition.

-=-

Monday December 2, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

Ally nauseous and completely washed out. I went down at 5:30 and did both bars on my own whilst Ally lay above. It was quiet. Pool knockout. A lad from 'the Cut' brought me a garden gnome. Wernher keeps a list for Audrey tomorrow. He'll have to go. 

John & Janette (1985)

Janette phoned this morning. People can ring in but we cannot ring out. Hopeless really. She wanted a copy of John's birth certificate because he's insuring her and Charlotte Nora___________and cannot find his copy. I do not have one and suggest Maria. She went on to say that she and John had been discussing 'the wedding' last night with the 1986 diary, and they plan to marry at Leeds Register Office in March. The thirteenth of that month will be the 10th anniversary of his marriage to Maria. Surely, this month is a bad omen? Janette has also spoken to Dad. 

-=-

Sunday December 1, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

1st Sunday in Advent

Sam (1985).

Ding Dong Merrily on High, &c. December is here. Oh God what an awful month. I used to laugh when Hilda went on and on in days gone by about all the morbid anniversaries that this month held, but now we have our own, Dec 17, the day last year when Mum went into Airedale. Ally had a poor morning and grew worse as the day went on. No staff at lunch and so she joined me in the bar, and last until 2. Very pale. So weary. So little I can do. I made sausages and mash for lunch. Ally likes stodge. On the TV we watched The Count of Monte Cristo starring Richard Chamberlain and then the poor Prince of Wales going on and on about inner cities. I do hope he isn't doing too much. Samuel missed his footing on the stairs this morning and went for a Burton. Bruised now. He hasn't taken to his advent calendar which features Santa Claus. He kept jabbing Ally's hand saying 'no like, no like', but insisted on looking closely into the red, bearded face (Santa's, not Ally's). Mags and me tonight. Chris Wills called in and stood with Frank Munro. _____.

-=-

Saturday November 30, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

St Andrew's Day

The Moorhouse Inn.

British Telecom! Don't make me bloody laugh. They connected us to a new appliance nearly two weeks ago and we are still waiting for a connection. St Andrew, &c. Sir Winston Churchill is 111. Quiet and cold. Ally is very bad with Tubby II. Heartburn and constant nausea. The mornings are better than the rest of the day, when she grows steadily worse. She reclined on the settee, looking white. Samuel says 'Mummy sick' and looks concerned. Poor boy. He doesn't understand. Playing with his toys he looked up and said: "don't want baby", and then repeated it. What must be going through his mind? I hugged him and said: "You will always be my baby". 

I told Margaret about the draconian 'No Booze Behind the Bar' ban. Much whispering with the customers, and some became heated on the subject. Some are far too willing to force alcohol on my bar staff and part with precious money. Weird. Pam Newton was very sweet about our baby news.

-=-

Friday November 29, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

The Moorhouse.

Back to the delights of Leeds 11 and the Moorhouse Inn. Paul was very quiet and uncommunicative. No major incidents in our absence. No sudden deaths &c. LG called on Tuesday to ask when we would be back, re the bad stock, and we expected him today. The mad stock taker appeared at 10:30. We would have returned later if we had known. In fact we arrived at 8:30. Frosty, even snow. As I suspected, Paul's stock take showed an £80 deficit. So, up in the office we had an inquest and LG appeared. Much analysing and scratching of heads, and poking at old till rolls, &c. Ally lost her patience with them all. Here we do not have thieving staff - only chronic, ineffectual stock takers. Despite everything LG was in a good mood. Relief manager Paul pissed off to Rochdale where a manager, harassed and fed-up, pissed off this morning without so much as a 'kiss my arse' to the brewery. We told Audrey and the customers assembled this afternoon of our baby news. We only made such an early announcement because Ally looks obviously struck down with something, and we don't want rumours and speculation.

-=-

Thursday November 28, 1985

Bessie in her kitchen.

 Chillandham Cross, Itchen Abbas SO21 1AS

Cold and frosty. Frank stayed at home until 10:30 to see us because his appearances have been fleeting since Sunday. Samuel takes to him like a duck to water. F & B have been pleasantly surprised by Samuel's behaviour. Bessie hasn't had to move glassware, china or ornaments this time. Ally is a Dixon and clashes with her mother, and is easily irritated by her and some of the things she does. I find it annoying. I want a peaceful life. We lunched on stodgy Fray Bentos 'individual' steak pies, and left at 3 o'clock. Andrew pranged his car on the way home for lunch and caused a five car pile-up. He cut his hand, only lightly, and looked shaken. Home at 7:30. Sam was an angel all the way home. Phoned Bessie and Dad. We had a Chinese take-away, and we three slept together in the same bed.

-=-

Wednesday November 27, 1985

  Chillandham Cross, Itchen Abbas

Winchester.

Crisp and even, but not deep. By crisp I mean frost. To Winchester. More Yuletide shopping. It had to be done. Bessie joined us, but the mission proved fruitless and we returned later leaving Samuel with his 'Gammy', as he calls her. If people bought us the quality sort of presents that we buy them I would be very happy indeed. Sadly, I know only too well that the packs of socks from Otley Market (seconds) and Hai Karate aftershave are winging their way from Santa Claus to me. Frank in London all day, and all night in fact. Bessie is counting the days until Frank retires in Sept '87. ______. The trundle of food is giving Aly nightmares.

-=-

Tuesday November 26, 1985

 Chillandham Cross, Itchen Abbas

Ally was collapsed by the fire looking like the young wife in 'David Copperfield'. Is she 'Dodie' or 'Dulcie' or something? However, we struggled out to look at the shops. Winchester doesn't seen troubled by mass unemployment. Every other shopper looks like a dowager viscountess. We spent a lot of money we do not possess and staggered back to the car. Frank nowhere to be seen tonight. He was at Rotary or the Round Table, or whatever. ___________. I'm reading a Sidney Sheldon book from Frank's study. A naughty little volume featuring lesbian rape in prison, &c.

-=-

Monday November 25, 1985

 Chillandham Cross, Itchen Abbas

Chillandham Cross.

The mornings at Chillandham Cross never vary. We go downstairs to a groaning breakfast table, piled high, and always eat in the kitchen. Bessie has always half-cooked the bacon, &c, to prevent us from breakfasting simply on toast. Afterwards we went into town and poked around in the shops. Bessie came too. She is looking for curtain material featuring birds and flowers for the new lounge, which looks impressive. Chandelier lighting. Our Christmas present to them is going to be a Sam Chadwick print entitled 'Cloud Down Over Ingleborough' which will go well in the new west wing. Tonight the usual Edwardian-style dinner. But ridiculous because only Bessie and I were eating. A tin of soup would have done. This time Ally finds the smell of anything and everything offensive. This baby is going to be a little belter.

-=-

Sunday November 24, 1985

 Waltergarth, Horton-in-Ribblesdale

Sunday next before Advent

The view from Waltergarth.

Dear Uncle Albert's 90th birthday. Dad has talked much about him this weekend. He says Uncle Albert worshipped Mum. _______. We had eggs and bacon, packed up and left for 11am. It is always touching leaving Horton. Dad blinking back tears in front of that old apple tree.________. Dad insists he cannot live alone. He has spoken of his parents and his father's love for his mother but complains that his father 'never told me what it was like to lose someone'. Grandfather of course was a man of few words who kept his emotions well buried. On the road we stopped at Watford Gap (or before) and ate in the restaurant.Steak and kidney pie, &c. Samuel sat at the table very grown up. The half hour break did Ally good. To Chillandham Cross for 5:30. We had cups of tea and I waited for a long time for Ally to tell her parents our good news. When she did the response was mediocre. No popping champagne corks. Frank, in his office, looked over his specs, and told Bessie that he already knew just by the look on Ally's face. We ate grilled steaks and watched 'Fawlty Towers' and retired to bed.  I borrowed a Sidney Sheldon book from Frank. Ally is having such a dreadful holiday. Weary, sick, &c. God knows how she will cope back at the pub , if we have a pub to go back to.

-=-

Saturday November 23, 1985

 Waltergarth, Horton-in-Ribblesdale

Horton-in-Ribblesdale.

Too wet and cold to go out. Dad still suffering with a cold. Ally, Sam and I walked to the post office. Ally in her red Queen Mother-styled hat. Such fun. Afterwards, Ally slept by the fire and Dad and I had a few beers reminiscing again. He showed me Mum's brief 1984 diary - just bookings and birthdays, &c. We had roast chicken by candlelight. When Ally and Sam had gone to bed Dad and I watched a Jack Nicholson/Jessica Lange film. (The Postman Always Rings Twice?).
Naughty, but entertaining. Bed at 12. Dad has enjoyed having us here.

-=-

Friday November 22, 1985

 Waltergarth, Horton-in-Ribblesdale BD24 OHW

Another historic day. A watershed in our tiny, though expanding family. To Settle. We had fish and chips in the car. Ally looking peaky. To Helwith Bridge for a pint, but Samuel (in his yellow suit) went on the rampage, and Dad dragged him outside. A cat was snuggling up to keep warm on our car bonnet. It was bitterly cold. Peacocks strutted around the car park, &c. Home for 2. We waited by the fire for 4:30, the magic hour when Ally phoned the medical centre. I was a nervous wreck. I dialled the wrong number and found herself speaking to someone from the water authority, and eventually got through to the Dr Goebbels-like secretary of Dr Sykes, who seemed to derive some enjoyment in delaying giving out the result. "Your sample is positive". Ally asked her to repeat it, and the secretary asked:  "aren't you pleased"? Of course we are bloody pleased. Much leaping around. So, July 16, 1986, it is. We phoned Lynn and Sue who were thrilled. Lynn came out with: "Oh what a miserable Christmas you are going to have". John wasn't home. Sue had hoped to borrow all Ally's maternity wear, but that is now scuppered. The two of us went to the Little House restaurant in Settle at 8. _______________________. A delicious dinner. Steaks, &c. I had Malibu ice-cream with an umbrella. We are still set on Clementine - "Clemmie". Back to see Dad at 10. Samuel was up and eating a banana. Dad enjoys Sam's company.

-=-

Thursday November 21, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

Waltergarth, Horton-in-Ribblesdale.

Rose at 6:30. An early stock take at 8:30 with Ronnie Simpson, for a change. Paul turned up at 9 o'clock. It was a bad stock. We have already written off £154 with the returned OBB, but other losses put it up to £300. Sod them, anyway. We went away at 11 joking that this holiday might be a longer one that we at first thought. Paul says we'll have LG on the doorstep when we return. I don't give a monkeys. For Christ sake I want peace of mind and a quiet life. I might take that old Welsh witch up on one or two points and go to the country, Devon or Cornwall, and breed pedigree cats. We went to Horton via the Anchor at Gargrave, where Ally indulged in steak and kidney pie. I phoned Dad from here. He has a cold and is weary. To Horton for 2pm. A lovely crackling fire. Dad was tired, run down and emotional. He marks the weeks since mum's death on a calendar on the wall. 27 weeks. We told him our news, but it didn't seem to make an impact.I think he suspects we are a little premature in celebrating. Ally is also exhausted and done in. Dad and I went to the Crown Inn at 10pm when Ally and Sam took to their beds. Samantha Fox, with her huge tits, was on TV. We sampled the Theakston's. It was a dark walk home and we went and sat in his bedroom until 2am. He spoke of things I have never heard him talk about before. His national service days in the '50s. He looked over at his typewriter and said he is considering putting down all his thoughts and memories of his life with Mum to leave a last record of his life. He says he has volumes to say which will otherwise die with him. He spoke of his life insurance details and when he saw a look of concern on my face he said: "don't worry, I won't do anything silly." But added: "but I should have died with her". I encouraged him to write. It will do him good. _______.

-=-

Wednesday November 20, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

The idiot who sinks pint after pint of Diet Pils afternoon and night shuffled off his mortal coil on Monday. He had been mixing his drink with tablets.  Silly, pathetic man. Ally took a sample to Beeston Health Centre. She will have the result at 4:30 on Friday. To this our hopes are pinned. Poor Ally is so pale and nauseous & we have no doubt that the result will be positive. ____________. Sam Smiths can sack us now and be damned. It could actually be an omen. Samuel was conceived in the month I took off from the YP and so another baby might signal the start of a new chapter. Nothing to do with employment will ever break my heart. The loss of family overshadows everything and put the insinuations of LG into proper perspective. Liz Melvin told me she is thinking of quitting, and then changed her mind. I cannot be bothered by it all. Ally was in a collapsed heap upstairs after packing up.

-=-

Tuesday November 19, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds, LS11 5NQ

I was visited by an old witch in the guise of a 'true Welsh gypsy' who proceeded to foretell my future whilst standing in the entrance hall. "You will see Devon and Cornwall", she says, and "you have just lost a parent through heart disease or cancer". My wife, she says, will have two children "a son, who will be a footballer, and a daughter who will love me." "Do not trust a Peter or a Tom" she warned. This immediately wipes out half my family and customers here. My luck is "abroad" and I will find "happiness in the country in three years time." Other than my "nerves" I have no health problems. My father, she concluded, will "live to a ripe old age". She then gave six yards of lace, handmade, and charged me £6 for it. It made me very uneasy. One shouldn't knock such old practices by any means. This world holds many peculiarities which cannot readily be answered. Silly, old  'happy mediums' might not all be the devious con artists we think they are. Ally forgot to do a urine sample today and so she will have to go see Dr Sykes with one tomorrow. Fixed the yale lock today.

-=-

Monday November 18, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds, LS11 5NQ

Leslie Gledhill arrived at his usual time - 10:57am - and stood murmuring in the tap room. We are not to be dismissed, though others in our position most certainly have been. Should he have any reason to find fault with my cellars in the future we will be sacked on the spot. He went away leaving me furious. It's a case of be grateful to LG because he has spared us. He showed mercy. Very unfair. I think Maureen probably heard everything. She was lurking with an ice bucket at the top of the stairs. We are expected to serve ale as though nothing has happened, grinning like idiots at our customers and all the while with some hair raising traumas abounding. 

-=-

Sunday November 17, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds, LS11 5NQ

24th Sunday after Trinity

Clown Janette & Chris.

Feel very healthy. I didn't overdo things. MM and Marita called in at lunchtime to say they couldn't make it here last night. They had tried to phone but of course we have been vandalised. They were en route to see Dave L at the LGI, where he under going treatment to prevent bees from killing him. Very odd. Haven't seen Dave L for over a year. Such a pity. Marita asked if "any little Rhodes babies are on the way"? I replied: "you never know". She is something of a mystic is Marita. I bet she knows. Dad stayed to lunch - roast beef - and went to John's at 6pm after destroying our yale lock. ________. Liz and Chris worked again. Last night he was dressed as a Scotsman.

-=-

Saturday November 16, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

Ally was up and gone at dawn to see her dentist, and visit Linfood, &c. She collected our musketeer garb. For a short time last night I almost persuaded Dad to be Porthos, but common sense prevailed. Very cold. Bitter, in fact. We work like stink for this bloody brewery. How many other Sam Smith managers would dress up like 17th century French queers to dispense ale? LG ought to be proud of us. It wasn't a big turn out of people.  (See the photographs). Bakers, Nasons, George & Jayne, Jacq, Ian, Jill, Tim, et al. The usual stalwarts. Dad was a glass collector. Up until 4am. Gary Booth came after. We are invited to Jacq & Ian's wedding on March 22. Lots of bare bums, vicars, tarts, Rabbis and performing clowns.

Fun. _________

Friday November 15, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

Ally has decided that she needs Dad here because she is weary and the 'Fancy Dress Ball' arrangements will be too much. I phoned him at Sue's where he was taking tea and he said he would be here this evening. He can be a glass collector for the night. I had to go to the phone kiosk outside the Canning St Club  because British Telecom (or 'BT' as Jan Leeming likes to say) have ignored my pleas to come and fix my damaged appliance. No staff tonight and I had a few swigs of lager. Dad came here at 7 looking fresh faced and well. We told him of our desperate situation with the brewery and he was appalled. It was a steady night, or so it seemed, but we amassed £300 this evening alone. Had a quiet drink upstairs afterwards.__________.

-=-

Thursday November 14, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

A freezing day. We went into town and Leeds market and I wheeled Samuel around. Ally phoned the brewery and spoke to LG and Ken Gilbertson. She came right out with it and asked LG whether we are now to be sacked. "I doubt it very much", he replied. "I think you have suffered enough". Feel easier. We have always known that this game is precarious. To Homburg's (fancy dress hire). Ally and I are to be musketeers on Saturday. Wigs, &c. "All for One, and One for All" &c. We paid £8 each plus a £20 per person deposit. Margaret worked tonight. On TV: Miss Cleckheaton is the new 'Miss World'. The Prince of Wales, fresh back from Washington, is 37.

-=-

Wednesday November 13, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

LG appeared at 8:30pm. I was upstairs and Chris and Liz were working. Fortunately we were busy. LG was dour. We sat in a corner. Once again he told me the returned barrel of OBB was below specification, and recommends I take a sample to an independent analyst. "I hope you understand the gravity of the situation", he cringed. "Serious questions" need answers, and he asked me, 'sotto voce', whether I want to own up to anything and admit my mistake, all confidentially. The man obviously takes me for an imbecile. No way will I put my head in a noose. Ally was upstairs feeling sick and asked me to invite LG up but he wouldn't be drawn. He later poked around in the cellar and left leaving me down and depressed. I have the distinct feeling that I am going to be sacked. Earlier, the phone in the entrance hall was vandalized as Maureen opened up. Swines.

-=-

Tuesday November 12, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

New Moon

I am eaten away with excitement about Ally and the prospects of another baby. It must be on the cards now. I went down to the cellar at 8am and Ally took Sam to see Dr Sykes, but you know how ineffectual doctors are. He sent her away with a bottle of medicine saying 'he'll eat when he's ready.' Ally asked about herself and he told her to go back in a week. It's all nail biting stuff. Auntie Mabel phoned  and gleefully told us that cousin Jacqueline is engaged to Barry. 

-=-

Monday November 11, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

Ally much better. Our fingers are crossed. I phoned Dad twice yesterday. He'd been to the Crown in Horton on Saturday because 'the Theakston's arrived'. He was concerned about my sickness and offered to come, but I put him off. Sue and the children are going to Horton tomorrow. Samuel still weary. This afternoon I took him to the park and the post office and he wept because I made him walk. He trundled along sluggishly, without his usual bounce. In the park he struggled to climb the slide and asked to be lifted down. Lethargy abounded. Ally is bright and confident of imminent good news and has charted a plan of action should she be pregnant. ________. Sue phoned. They are coming on Saturday in answer to my postcard plea. Tonight, at bedtime, Sam awoke when we banged around upstairs, and was violently sick over the both of us. It's the doctor tomorrow.

World News: The Prince of Wales and 'Princess David' (as Uncle Ron Reagan called her) have taken Washington by storm. They are received with adulation wherever they go. They make a laughing stocks of republics. 

-=-

Sunday November 10, 1985

Queen Mum: poppy the size of a dustbin lid.

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

Remembrance Sunday

Hawkins: awful.

Ally was flat out in bed all morning looking very pale and complaining of griping pains in her tummy. She has the bug I had earlier in the week. Samuel and I made a lot of noise and ate breakfast watching the Cenotaph ceremonies from Whitehall. Samuel found the marching a great joke, but the trumpeters appealed. The Queen, wearing that same old black overcoat, and the Queen Mother up on the balcony (with King Olav) wearing a poppy the size of a dustbin lid, Good old girl.

Tim Elmer's birthday. I don't have a clue how old he is. I went down at 12. Two hours of the Egan's 'grand tour' of Europe. _______. A slothful afternoon. Watched 'Eastenders' at 2. Ally laid upon the settee like a large, pink shrimp. We watched a noisy epic, with an Egyptian theme, featuring Jack Hawkins as the Pharaoh Khufu and Joan Collins as Princess Nellifer. Awful. No staff were planned for this evening , and we didn't of course account for Ally being ill, but Chris appeared at 8:30. A God send. Argued with Jack Collett and Harold about the monarchy and the history thereof. Poor H assumes that because a man was Duke of York (Wars of the Roses) that he was born and bred in the county.

-=-