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. 

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