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.

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