Saturday January 25, 1986

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

Grandfather.

The fortunes of our dear PM are at their lowest ebb in the whole of her six years tenure of office. That is of course if the Press is to be believed. She is to make a speech in an emergency debate on Monday which could save or sink her. Leon Brittan, tail between his legs, has returned to his constituency. Paul Channon is the new Secretary of State, DTI. He is of course 'half a Guinness' - son of 'Chips' Channon and Lady Honor Guinness. Midas rich to boot. In comparison Michael Heseltine is like Stan Ogden (deceased).

Ally went shopping and bought tons of provisions. Samuel slumbered upstairs. Chris worked at lunch and Margaret and Liz worked together this evening. Atrociously quiet. I stood at the bar with a glass of lager talking to Jack Collett and his Glenda Jackson look-alike daughter, Sandra Woodcock. I gave them a plate of black pudding. Well, it is Burns Night. Albert Rhodes, my semi-rehabilitated grandfather was given life this day in 1901. I say rehabilitated because he was the father of my own father and more and more I hear Dad's fond memories of his father. He has spoken more of him since Mum's death. ______.

I am taking another driving test on Thursday January 30, 1986. Oh God.

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Friday January 24, 1986

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

Poor Leon Brittan has had to resign from the cabinet because of this silly Westland helicopter business. The fire is getting very close to Mrs Thatcher. I had a sleepless night tossing and turning imagining a nation without Margaret Hilda at the helm. Shudders of horror. Taffy, the all-knowing Welsh punter, came in and we speculated about Tory fortunes, peering into an imaginary crystal ball. Taffy insists that Margaret will go before the next election. This isn't so. She will go on to a historic third term. We do agree however that N.B. Tebbit will be the next Tory leader. Taff says Norman Tebbit will get the sympathy vote now that Mrs Tebbit is confined to a wheelchair. A ramp up to the front door of No. 10, perhaps? One thing is certain, the Heseltines, Parkinsons and sadly now the Brittans of this world will not see high office again. I went down tonight and mixed. Sat on a stool in the tap room observing the antics of the customers there.

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Thursday January 23, 1986

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

Ally phoned Saint Street Clinic at dawn and went for an anti-natal inspection, taking Samuel along. As she was inspected he played with buckets and swabs. ________. She was back at 4pm, feet up, for cups of tea.  We are so pleased that where our baby is going to be born has now been resolved. Another little Bradford chap. Tired and hungry. Maureen worked from 7pm, and I walked up Dewsbury Rd for fish and chips at 8:30. Ally, slumped in an armchair, watching 'Minder'. Maureen must really hate me. What with the scrapping of tip sheets (remember them?) and the supping of ale whilst working, I now have a reputation far worse than Ivan the Terrible and Genghis Khan rolled into one. I love it.

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Wednesday January 22, 1986

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ 

We went to Bradford at 3:30 after closing. Lucy told us that Mary (Moore) is in hospital. Samuel slipped on the slippery path and banged his head. Ally went to her hairdresser and later Samuel and I walked out for our haircutting. It was Sam's first professional haircut. His baby looks are gone, but he looks very angelic. At 5 we went to see Dr York. Ally loathes him. We are accepted back into the practice without any questions but the evil receptionist asked "where is the little boy going to be treated?" as we have only handed over our medical cards. When we responded that Samuel is under another GP she whined: "Do not expect us to come and see him when he is ill". She didn't express this with concern, but with a twisted malice. The doctor had a prod at Ally's tummy and he too, like Dr Sykes, said he though she was bigger than 15 weeks and said that her continuing sickness could point to twins. Doctors will say anything. We went triumphantly back to the cottage confident that Ally is now a patient under Dr Duck (who returns at the end of February) and will not have to endure the indignities of St James's. Cattle market. Lasagne by the TV. At the cottage Ally snored in our bed. A twenty minute back to the pub at 11:30pm.

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Tuesday January 21, 1986

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

Awfully quiet here. Ally was worn out and in bed after 10am in Samuel's room, in his bed, whilst he languished in his cot. Liz worked this evening and I went upstairs at 8:30 to read the DT to be called back down to see Leslie Gledhill and Colin Black. A good humoured twosome just having a nosy around the Leeds hostelries. LG says that everywhere he has been this week my name has cropped up. A reference to Monday's trip around North Yorkshire. They are curious and decide between themselves that I am looking for a move. The baby was also brought up and Colin said: "I suppose it's a girl? Where will she sleep?" How ridiculous. Samuel and the baby do not require separate bedrooms until at least 1996 and his bedroom is bigger than at least three Tay Homes and a Barratt house rolled into one. I did not bring up the Menston Arms but will do so next Monday at the managers' meeting (held at the Emmott Arms, would you believe). They said the Moorhouse had had a very good Christmas (takings). LG, laughing, asked me to sniff his hand, and asked me to guess where he had been. His fingers stank like the proprietor of a Turkish brothel. When I expressed puzzlement he said: "I've been to see your friend Michael Radford at the Old Red Lion. He speaks very highly of you." Oh dear. Much hilarity. We discussed Aids, homosexuality, and the size of the Old Brewery Bitter glasses at the Harewood Arms, &c, and away they went. Ally slept all night in the single bed. I spoke to Dad who told me that he has applied for a job as a deputy registrar of births, marriages and deaths in Skipton. This came out of the blue. He wants more money and a needs a new car. His business is so unpredicatable. B & Bs aren't regular income.

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Monday January 20, 1986

Moorhouse Inn, Leeds, LS11 5NQ

If I miss the YP for anything it is that daily morning scan of the national newspapers. I do not have time for reading the paper in this caper. I do miss the gossip and dear Nigel Dempster, &c. I would love to know exactly how Sarah Ferguson descends from Charles II. No titled Fergusons fit. Sarah's mother is Mrs Susan Barrantes, wife of Hector Barrantes, an Argentinian from Buenos Aires. Dear me. Prince Andrew won't like the Argie connection I do suppose.

Dorothy & Lynn.

Ally has brightened considerably. I did some heavy ironing at 12. Watched Mrs T on the TV news with Francois Mitterrand in Lille discussing the Channel Tunnel. A twin rail by 1993 and a motorway by 2379, when I'll be fossilized. I am unsure about this business. What's wrong with flying, for God's sake? Let us stay an island, please. No, on second thoughts give Mr Heseltine a shovel and set him to work at Dover.

Phoned Dad tonight. He came home from Arnold's at 5pm. He filled me in on the Holland wedding. Guy is a barrister in Hong Kong as is his wife. The bridesmaid, he says, wore a bowler hat. My cousin Robert is a doctor working in London for the Wellcome organisation and is married to a doctor (Alison) who works for Beecham's. They have a joint income of £48,000. Dad stayed with Dorothy on Saturday night, just ten minutes from the lapping blue waters on Blackpool beach. He and Leslie were pissed up on whisky and poor L was cast from the marital bed into a broom cupboard for the night. Dorothy, says Dad, is more like Lynn than Lynn, if that makes sense. Carmel Corcoran though having some links with Australia denies any links with the MP of that name.

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Sunday January 19, 1986

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds, LS11 5NQ

2nd Sunday after Epiphany

Samuel much better and Ally much worse. I 'bottled up' and then worked downstairs with Chris and then roasted a chicken with all the trimmings, Yorkshire puddings, &c. I had wine from downstairs. _______.

Bernard Manning: farted.

Margaret worked tonight. In the pub I did a testicle survey. Dad says that Christopher, at 4, already has large balls. Surely this is unusual? I asked guys downstairs, as I pulled the pints, whether they had balls at 4, and received some classic looks and answers. Most people cannot remember all that much before puberty. The TV went on at 10:15 for the last bit of 'Spitting Images'. It ended with Sir Alastair Burnet announcing that Mr Bernard Manning, the comedian, has farted. He was 55. It happened on the stage of his Manchester club and anyone with relatives at the performance are asked to ring Fartline 061-837-1674. So very amusing. The News of the World says that the Princess of Wales had a 'nose job' in 1982.

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Saturday January 18, 1986

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds, LS11 5NQ

After a bad night with Samuel we got up at 9am. It was dawn before he fell asleep you see, and then slept late. I phoned Dr Sykes and we took Sam to see him at 9:30. He was full of fever and complaining about his eyes. I do worry. The doc took a listen at the boy's chest and declared he has an infection and prescribed some new tablets which Sam can chew. We felt easier after seeing the doc. Back at the Moorhouse Ally and Sam went to bed and I was up and down . Margaret worked 12-3:30 and Chris pm. Poor Ally worn out and low spirited. Baby has taken everything out of her and 'bump' is becoming very obvious.  A fight in the pub. A yob attacked Gary Rhodes, who can also be something of a bother causer. I dragged the lad outside and he bled all over my new shirt. I stood around, arms folded, looking suitably vicious, with my clothes dripping, reminiscent of President Kennedy in Dallas. Some customers think I am incapable of violence but they saw the tough side of me tonight. It did some good.

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Friday January 17, 1986

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

A funny, low day. I phoned Dad at 11:15 because I remembered he was setting off to Arnold's this afternoon to attend Guy's wedding. He was just about to leave and discussed Mum's jewelry, and the disposing of it, which I found out of place. He somehow gets a topic in his head and it sticks. He asked me whether I can remember what happened to Mum's watch. _______. He is now puzzled and frustrated by his early eagerness to remove all Mum's possessions from Waltergarth. He went to his neighbours Frances and Brian for whisky last night. ___________. A very busy evening. Liz and Chris in. A swarming tap room. Madge and Frank, &c. Samuel isn't well and is warm and sweaty, and he came int our bed later on. For some reason our curtains give him nightmares.

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Thursday January 16, 1986

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

Club Street.

Over to Bradford this afternoon with our medical cards to transfer back to Dr B.E. Duck, but the apple-eating viper on the reception desk booked us in to see a doctor next Wednesday. The receptionist recognised Ally and a sick grin spread over her over-painted features. They better not become awkward with us because we have every right to health care in Bradford 7. Whatever happens we are not having junior in St James's. ______. Later, to Linfood where Samuel explored and did his Ben Hur routine in a trolley. On to Ash Tree Cottage, so warm and homely. Found a pile of Christmas cards behind the door. We had fish and chips and drank tea watching the tiny black and white telly. Home for 7:30. Audrey had opened up. News: Leon Brittan has survived Admiral Lygo's whopping fibs. The naughty, deceitful sea dog. I'd clap him in irons.

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Wednesday January 15, 1986

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds, LS11 5NQ

Samuel slept in his bed as opposed to the cot, and was very good and didn't fall out or attempt to escape, until 8am. We lounged in bed with newspapers and cups of tea. Ally had her compulsory cornflakes to ward off the nausea. She is 14 weeks pregnant today and phoned Dr Sykes and went to see him at 3:40. He told her she has lost weight, which is ridiculous, but later he changed his mind. He also told her that she must be 16 weeks. This is also impossible. Our dates are spot on. This was her last visit to the Beeston Hill centre as we plan to transfer back to Bradford tomorrow when we nip over to Club Street. 

If the Daily Star has its way Prince Andrew and Prince Edward will have a double wedding this year. Andrew and Sarah Ferguson, daughter of Major Ronnie Ferguson, the polo player, and a direct descendant of King Charles II, then Edward and Eleanor Weightman, daughter of an ICI executive, living in a £130,000 red-brick bungalow close to the Jodrell Bank Observatory. At least this news is more fun than the Westland saga, which grows more and more out of proportion with each passing day. A full-scale debate today. Mrs Thatcher, quite rightly, is playing the whole thing down. Michael Heseltine has lost his marbles. Goodbye Tarzan. 

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Tuesday January 14, 1986

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds, LS11 5NQ

Winds at 92MPH. Biting cold too. Dad left via Guiseley at 1pm. We had a good food lunchtime and took £22 which was quite staggering. LG appeared at 12:30 and I had been warned by Rob, who phoned me from the Butcher's, Pudsey. LG came upstairs to see Ally and was affable and inoffensive. He looked at the cellar without any adverse comment. Next time, maybe. He made a passing reference to the baby, and joked about our holiday suggesting it was the cause of the pregnancy. "William" was of course conceived here in late October. Our holidays for the whole of '86 have been approved by Ken Gilbertson, and we have 10 days booked provisionally from July 17. 

Tregonning Hill House.

The DT obits. reveal that Lydia Quiller Collick has died at Helston, aged 75. We stayed with the big Mrs Q-C for two idyllic summers in 1970-71 with Hilda and Tony. Tregonning Hill House will forever remind me of very hot, lazy days, the last days of my childhood. Later I phoned Tony to tell him the news.

Quiet night. Margaret worked. I sat upstairs (Ally was in bed at 9pm) and watched "I, Claudius" on BBC2. A repeat of the old series from '77 or '78. Excellent. I am always game for a Roman orgy. The (Westland) helicopter furore is now getting out of hand. They are now saying that Leon Brittan may have to go. Heseltine is positively potty. We debated this in the pub with much hilarity.

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Monday January 13, 1986

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds, LS11 5NQ

A raging thirst all night. Bloody Hell, I feel like Richard Burton. I was up in the dead of night swigging pop and creeping around the flat like a venomous creature. Ultra relief pills saw off the heavy head. By breakfast I was conscious, but docile. Dog tired all day, and so was Ally, who didn't touch a drop. But you know how children's parties can weary one. Ally had a dreadful conversation with Lynn yesterday, on the subject of Mum. She says the nightmares persist. ________. I told her to try and think of Mum as she was living and cast the haunting skeletons aside. Surely, Mum is a spirit, large and warm, untouched by decay? Tonight after Sam retired Ally and I went on a pub crawl. The Harewood Arms, the Radcliffe Arms at Follifoot, the Crown at Wetherby, the Fox & Hounds at Boston Spa. A very pleasurable, relaxing evening. The Crown was a tip, which surprised us. We bought some Chinese food in Leeds and took some back for Dad, who had nipped down to the bar for a few pints. Maureen and Chris had worked.

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Sunday January 12, 1986

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

1st Sunday after Epiphany

Sam: flaxen haired

Our lovely son is two. Flaxen haired, sweet natured and a God send. He climbed into our bed at 8am to open presents and cards. His face a joy to see. Magic moments. He loved his toy record player and carried it around all day looking like Nigel Lawson on budget day. Dad's card was touching. He gave Sam a fiver. He says it isn't much, but he does have a dozen grandchildren to buy for. We had a 'full-English' and prepared a gaily coloured table for Sam's party. We moved furniture and hid priceless china. Filled vol au vents and inflated balloons. Dad came at 10. I worked 12-2pm with Margaret. Ally brought Sam down to the pub at 2:30 - he was in his new grey velvet suit and bow tie. People came at 2:30. John, Janette, JPH, Catherine, Charlotte Nora, Sue, Pete, Chris, Ben, Lynn, Dave, Thomas, Frances, Katie, Karen, Steve, Hayley, Tim, Jill, Thomas John. A full jolly household. All very well behaved with party games, &c. Lynn is always good at organising things like pass the parcel, &c. We drank much vino and the party disbanded at 6 o'clock or thereabouts, with the exception of Karen, Steve, and Hayley. Downstairs at 7 with Steve for a few pints, and they stayed until after 9. Later, bacon sandwiches with Dad upstairs. A late finish.

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Saturday January 11, 1986

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds, LS11 5NQ

A very hard (illegible) day. I opened up at 11 expecting peace and tranquillity, for that is my usual lot on a Saturday with just Jim and George and the 'Daily Star'. But Oh no. In walked 73 rugby league fanatics, all very good humoured, who proceeded to drink us out of house and home for two hours which gave us our busiest lunch time ever. Just me, no staff. Ally came down with Samuel . Knackered at 3. I left a tap open in the back bar and flooded the tap room. Lanigans. To Morrison's at 4. We thought Margaret was down to open up at 7 but she didn't appear until 8. Audrey was told this afternoon that her working hours would now be more varied in the future, and 12-3:30 might be a thing of the past. She wrongly thinks I'm a swine who wants rid of her. However, she has no argument because her contract states she'll work when I say, &c. Ally was still up at 11:30pm. Samuel's party is now ready. Watched a Hammer horror.

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Friday January 10, 1986

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

Jack Collett.

Audrey held an impromptu 'privy council' meeting here with old favourite Mavis Ingham and Margaret Milne in attendance. The meeting commenced at 2pm on Audrey's escape from the bar. Little does she know that this 12-2pm run is going to be a permanent thing. I am going to have to cut lunchtime staff hours. Phoned Dad. What a mess he was in. He had supped half a bottle of whisky plus two large bottles of home brewed beer and was totally pissed. I could weep for him. I do worry about Dad. Who wouldn't get pissed up in his position? He has been a tower of strength for us. He lets himself go when all alone at Waltergarth. I told him that we all love him. 

Chris and Margaret worked PM. I sat at the bar with Jack Collett and Brian (beard) discussing Westland, Heseltine, Robert Runcie, Heseltine, Westland, Westland, Westland, &c. They say that the shaggy haired former defence secretary will one day lead the party. No way. 

Ally made a few attempts to make Samuel a birthday cake, but they were sad. Watched a late film.

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Thursday January 9, 1986

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

Lay in bed drinking tea in the dark at 7:30am. Ally cannot get up without a bowl of cereal which she ate propped up by pillows. Samuel is a good boy. He just say playing with toys until we pulled round. We must be getting old. Later we went to collect a batch of photographs and bought Samuel a toy record player from a store on Wellington Street. I am looking forward to this birthday party. Ally has baked buns and has bought some of those little trifle dishes with the crinkly edges which jolt one back to 1959, or so. Later Ally and Sam came downstairs (11am) to quash the rumours that she has left me. Samuel is so good for business and he went around in the back bar at the wheel of his Postman Pat car kissing the aged customers.

Heseltine: resigned

Newsflash: Michael Heseltine has resigned as Secretary of State for Defence over the Westland helicopter takeover affair thingy. A very able man, but probably too unconventional to lead the (Conservative) party. Long hair, &c.

Worked alone from 2pm. Audrey sat having a drink at the bar until 3. Later Ally and Sam had spaghetti bolognese, and I nothing. Couldn't be bothered. But later at 8 when Margaret arrived I nipped up to the fish and chip shop and bought a pile of soggy, fried fayre which we ate in front of a smouldering Michael Heseltine on the telly. Phoned Dad. He wasn't quite a buoyant today, and was sat watching 'Minder'. We spoke of Michael Heseltine. It's Dad's opinion that the Tory MP 'didn't do much anyway'. The pub was jovial. Lots of noise. Mary (Knight), the widow - blond and randy - kissed me on the way out. I am something of a Clark Gable. To bed at 11:50. Ally was already out for the count.

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Wednesday January 8, 1986

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

Snow, ice and a general chill. After breakfast Samuel and I went out with picks and shovels to move the snow from the carpark. It was a slushy, half-hearted affair. We went over the white moor to inspect the frozen park. Samuel's little fingers were blue. He refused to wear his Thomas the Tank mittens. What a cherub he is. 

Baby names: Ally wants Nora in the middle of our future babe's three names, not at the end. So Clemmie will have Nora then Mary or Lucy. For a boy George is the top, but we like William. I favour the former because 1). I dislike the nickname Bill, and 2). People will say we have named him after Prince William of Wales. I could not do that. I also like Harry, but that name will be discarded for the same reason. All our baby names with the exception of Clementine can be found in our genealogical table.

Bliss. A night off. Audrey opened up at 5:30, and then Maureen and Chris worked. Very quiet. Just (illegible) and drank wine and chatted by a smouldering TV set. We had trout. I love it, but Ally picked and poked at it. Fear of bones. I hid the gaping fish heads beneath lettuce. 

Frank and Bessie flew to Tenerife yesterday for a week. Phoned Dad at 8:30. He seemed cheerful and he talked about the jet crash at West Burton, Wensleydale, yesterday. Near him.

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