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.__________.

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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.

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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.

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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. 

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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. 

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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.

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Saturday November 9, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

Ally and I are convinced that we have managed in these busy, toying weeks to conceive a baby. Ecstatic. We deserve some good news at the end of this hideous, nightmare of a year. _____________. The magic date is July 16, 1986. If only. The coming weeks will reveal all. No staff this lunch. Dead really. Ally went to Guiseley to see Lynn. She phoned the other day after having had a bad week. She had been to see Mum's grave with Frances and Katie. Too hideous. I made pie and peas for the Egans. Much talk of España. They spoke of the flight home. Yesterday we had tales of the flight going out. Sam was violently sick tonight ----- downstairs Chris and Liz worked together for the first time. They did well, though the till was down a fiver. It could be an error, but there again ......

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Friday November 8, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

Samuel looks better and is more lively, but we are watching him closely. Poor boy. He is rarely ill. Have received a snotty letter from LG regarding his visit on Oct 24, setting out the points we were supposed to have discussed. Rubbish. No word as yet about our suspect cask of OBB. Lunchtimes are so diabolically quiet. Because of this we have to cut Audrey's hours from next week. Excitement of a gynaecological nature, though we do not want to build up our hopes. _________.It would just be the thing to be sacked and pregnant. Spent the day seething about LG. He ought to be ashamed of himself. I expect such drivel to come from the mouth of Fran O'Brien, but not from Leslie Gledhill. Perhaps he is unwell? Ally was close to tears but they held off. We have come a long way since the traumas of the Why Not. She sat stoically at the breakfast table saying she'll fight the brewery to the bitter end. What else? Oh yes, we get on much better together in a crisis, and instead of sniping at each other we attack LG instead. Postcards have gone to everyone we can think of regarding a 'party night' set for Nov 16. Hopefully it will be a big turn out. Anita Leslie has pegged out. Her obit. is enclosed herein - a kinswoman of Sir W.S.C.

Just Margaret and I downstairs tonight. She seemed a bit fed up.

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Thursday November 7, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

A restless night. Samuel, restless too, came in with us. I do not think he is 100 per cent. A slight cough. I cleaned the beer lines and got everything ready for a visit from LG, but he didn't appear. I am entirely innocent. I think I will have some T-shirts made with an appropriate slogan. 

Buried in the Court Circular it was announced that the Queen invested the Duke of Kent as a Knight of the Garter yesterday after returning from the State Opening (of Parliament). How nice. He comes in as an extra royal knight. Fancy me being able to go on about an ancient order of chivalry when I'm about to be toppled for allegedly diluting Sam Smiths OBB? Life must go on. 

Miss Collis is 33. I sent a card. She sent me one. She hasn't been here since Oct '84. 

We were visited at 8pm by the police. Just a routine visit. Lynn phoned to see how I was. She had visited the grave and has been depressed all week. Later I phoned Dad just to say 'hello'.

Poor Samuel is 'off colour'. He was sucking his thumb and required a cuddling. Such a sweet child. He plays very well on his own and is currently obsessed with his toy cars which he lines us ip traffic jams on the top of various items of furniture. Buckets too. Last night he sat in the bath with a bucket and a cloth diligently washing the tub. He was violently sick and bedtime and so was disturbed for the remainder of the evening. Crying that he was thirsty. Later, we tucked up in bed together.

Wednesday November 6, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

Crisp sort of day. Blustery though. 

Dad has posted me Mum's Christmas cake recipe. It arrived today. He phoned at 9:30 to ask how I feel and discuss whether he should come. I said no. It was good of him to offer, but there's little he can do here. I am feeling much better. We went to market and came back at 10:50. Leslie Gledhill came. Whispers, whispers. We went into the tap room. He says my returned barrel was well below specification and asks if water can possibly have found its way into the barrel accidentally. I said no. Further checks are going on. He went away. It is a war of nerves. What a fucking cheek. I have a clear conscience anyway. I expected a call tonight but none came. Ah well, it's only a job. We still have each other, Sammy and Club Street, and a large loving family. Much better tonight. Ally and I had a drink. I felt like Nero playing his organ as Athens burned. Liz Melvin worked.

The State Opening of Parliament. The Queen said something about salmon fishing. She went in state to Westminster with the Princess Anne, Mrs Mark Phillips. Where is the captain?

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Tuesday November 5, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

Election Day USA

The chill has gone from my stomach. At bedtime last night I drank a cup of warm milk laced with whisky. This, I think, did me some good. Ally ran around all day like a mad thing and really is a treasure. I just sprawled in front of the fire with Dickie Mountbatten whilst the pub heaved below. In two years I have never been sick. Busy with food. Uncle Peter came but I didn't go down. Sam was very good and sympathised. He kept saying 'Daddy sick', pulling a horrible face too. Ally and Sam went to Guiseley at 4 to Sue's bonfire, but were stuck in a traffic jam near the Yorkshire Post for three hours. A bomb scare. Poor buggers. They arrived at Sue's at 7:15 when the bonfire was nothing but embers. Sam was good in the car and drank pop and guzzled crisps and only cried when hailstones cracked on the roof. I went down much better at 8pm. 

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Monday November 4, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

I woke up feeling well and truly whacked. Ice-cold tummy, weak knees, &c. Slumped around all afternoon like a dying man. Ally thought I was giving one of my Olivier routines, but I was genuinely knackered and in some pain. I am blaming the sausage rolls from the freezer which I foolishly consumed last night whilst glancing at 'Mountbatten' by (Philip) Ziegler. Was violently sick at 3pm and thereafter took to my bed until 8 o'clock when I went below to see poor Ally, who was really good, and realised the gravity of my situation.

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Sunday November 3, 1985

22nd Sunday after Trinity

Ally better. Graham John Dixon is 30. Thomas Elmer was christened at Pudsey Parish Church. After a roast beef lunch and 'Eastenders' omnibus we went to Pudsey. Jill invited us last week to the after party. Eleanor had been invited to the ceremony because Hilda says that auntie has fallen hook, line and sinker for the vicar of St Oswald's Guiseley, who conducted the ritual. Cousin Stephen came in with his 2 year-old daughter, Gemma. Back at 6 to open up. Chris Mawson started work. My God, he's an old 18.

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Saturday November 2, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds, LS11 5NQ

Another hideous day. Ally can be so very unreasonable at times. Elizabeth worked tonight. Ally didn't come down. _____________. Upstairs after closing I devoured 2 Cornish pasties and watched a late film. Ally and Sam were asleep together and so I moved him to his own suite of rooms.

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Friday November 1, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

One shit of a day. Ally was in a foul mood from the start and I was feeling hellish. Then L. Gledhill phoned to say the barrel I returned recently is out of specification, whatever that means, and off he went leaving me hanging in mid-air. I bashed around in the bar threatening resignation. Blood, sweat, toil and tears, &c. We walked to the local 'play group' but they have an eight year waiting list. Poor Samuel will have pubic hair and tattoos before he can join. 

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Thursday October 31, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

Hallowe'en

All Hallows Eve. The new girl Elizabeth Melvin started. She will pick it up, I do suppose. All Crimplene and no finger nails. She lives with her boyfriend and 15 month-old daughter, Clare Louise, and saving to buy a house. She will only take £10 a week from us. In contrast the Daily Telegraph has a stunning photo on the front page of the Waleses waltzing around an Australian ballroom. The princess wearing a priceless emerald and diamond necklace , but as a headband. It is reported to be a gift from HM. Diana never fails to stun the public with her little fashions coups. The Royal Yacht has sailed into Grenada. Isn't that the place the US invaded a couple of years ago at the invitation of the government? I have given up on John Updike. I only ever read exceptional works of fiction, and The Witches of Eastwick isn't one. Don't get me wrong. It will be hailed as a 20th century classic. Twentieth century writers are few and far between. N. Coward, E. Waugh, G. Greene, D. Du Maurier, C. Cookson, J. Collins, &c. (That's enough authors -Ed.)

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Wednesday October 30, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn Leeds LS11 5NQ

Dad went off at lunchtime to Settle via Guiseley and then stonemason. He has withdrawn £280 from his TSB account to pay for the stone. He has of course provided for this. I have been feeling very low. I could scream and bang my head against a wall. What is the bloody point of our existence? Ally phoned Bessie to enquire about the proposed weekend there with Lynn & Dave. Oh, no. The weekend in question is the Rose Growers dinner in Jersey and they'll be away. Never mind. Bessie was gloomy. Andrew and Lorraine have announced that they are buying a house and setting up home together in the New Year - a union sealed only by an engagement ring. F & B are both livid and say they are "old fashioned". Odd, eh? They were not old fashioned in the past with other family events _________ (sensitive redaction). I do not mean to be unkind. Just Ally and I tonight. A women's choir came in. I recognised a face. It was Margaret Edwards from my old Benton Park days. What a frumpy thing she looks, but on chatting with her she most certainly isn't. 

Other news: An inquiry into the recent spy trial has been ordered. Less said. The future Sir Lester Piggott had his last race yesterday. He has ridden 3,349 winners. Charles Douglas-Home, editor of 'The Thunderer' died yesterday. He was a nephew of Sir Alec Douglas-Home, and was heir presumptive to the heir apparent to the Earldom (of Home), and a first cousin of John, Earl Spencer, MVO.

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Tuesday October 29, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn Leeds LS11 5NQ

Uncle Peter.

We discuss the proposed movements for our holiday next month. Lynn and Dave want a weekend without the children at Winchester and so we suggest Nov 22/23. They will ask Audrey if she can cope with the three. I think that Dad would manage better. The Christmas programme has also cropped up. Dreaded Christmas. The first one without the woman who was Christmas epitomised. Mum was Santa Claus, the Christmas fairies, and the Queen's message rolled into one. Dad has said he wants to come here because he can be more useful while we are working. Lunch was busier. Ally and Dad stood in the bar. Someone came in and remarked on Dad's youthful looks. Mum and Dad were always the youngest looking grandparents. Uncle Peter appeared and we all had a morbid conversation about graves, Uncle Albert's death and Uncle John Wilson's tenure as president of Pudsey Conservative Club, &c. He asked whether we selected the spot for Mum's grave because he thought it was in a strange place, tucked away in a corner. Mum, of course, would have wanted a quiet spot. I do not think Dad and Peter are on the same wave length at all. News: the £5m Cyprus spy trial has resulted in a man's acquittal. Deaths include Lord Davis of Leek, a Leftie. Births include a son to Alexander and Joanna Haddo (Earl & Countess?), so a grandson for Lord Aberdeen & Temair. The Queen and Duke of Edinburgh arrived in Bridgetown yesterday. It that Barbados? My geography of the Caribbean isn't good.

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