Moorhouse Inn, Leeds, LS11 5NQ
Septuagesima
Full Moon
Cold. Some bright sun though. We devoured a roast chicken at luncheon before a smouldering, crackling Cary Grant film. It was a repeat of last Sunday but without the hysteria and Mussolini-like demonstration by Ally. We lounged around this afternoon and I wrestled with Samuel, who is rapidly becoming a hooligan. He is also, sadly, keen on TV snooker and claps along with the audience at the mindless antics of the likes of Steve Davis. He shouts "Balls, balls". I tend to agree.
Dad came in at 8pm popped up. He tottered in from a rum drinking session at John's pulling faces and squinting _______. I really do not like observing someone drunk when I am stone cold sober. Ally gave him coffee and later a pile of sandwiches. Dad joined me downstairs from 9 o'clock. Liz worked. Dad stood with David Howard talking about the sun and the colours to be found in the firmament above. Later we took a drink upstairs and Ally stayed up for an hour. Dad pulled out a tiny purse and gave me Mum's wedding ring. Tears rolled down his face. Lynn has the engagement ring and Sue her eternity ring. Janette is have Mum's watch.
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