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.
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