Wednesday February 27, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

Back to York with Farting Frank. We have exactly the same opinion of the Pirie family and it is so refreshing to meet a person who doesn't idolise Pirie as the Moorhouse staff and punters do. Frank is one of those who resents all authority and he looks upon Sam Smiths as a mere stepping stone to better things. He is of the opinion that the HCTB  course is a complete waste of time and is thinking of walking out if it becomes any 'sillier'. To do that would be a grievous mistake. We all assembled for coffee and roared with laughter. Managers together have such good stories to relate. We had another task to perform and I chose the chipping of a potato. Lunched in town with Barrie and Mel. Barrie, at Levenshulme, is but a stones throw from the Hollywood at Edgeley. What a large, jovial character he is. Sensational developments followed after lunch when John (?) from the Master Cooper and Farting Frank informed Don that they did not want to continue with the course, and they walked out. Don, was clearly stunned, and we all hung our heads in embarrassment at the childish act. Mike Walker will go through the roof. Home on the train with Debbie, who is a mixed bag. She fired questions at me on all topics, and loudly, which other passengers found gripping. 

Christopher's party was just too much for poor Mum.

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Tuesday February 26, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

Frank Marshall, the incumbent of the Horse & Jockey at Ossett, came here at 8:30 and off we went to York for three days with the Hotel and Catering Training Board. Frank is one of those down to earth sort of people, with a severe bowel disorder. The car windows had to be wound down on our journey because of the ghastly fumes emanating from Mr Marshall's rear. We were late arriving at Stonebow House. Poor Mike Walker was just finishing a talk and making his excuses to disappear, and we sat - about 12 of us - around a table with Don Bywater and a plump blond called Clare. I sat with Frank (right) and dear Debbie Bailey (left). The only other faces I recognised was Barrie Ashworth (the Bluebell, Levenshulme) and ear-studded Mel (the Roebuck, Rochdale). Don, puffing a cigar, gave us a film show 'Marie and the manager', which we all hoped would be a 'bluey'. Sadly, it swelt on employer/employee relations. To the Hansom Cab for lunch. This afternoon we broke into two groups. I was with Frank, Debbie and Barrie and we each demonstrated a small task. I showed Barrie how to create a ham sandwich. Talk about giggles. These few days are going to be a hysterical adventure, and a welcome break from pulling ale day and night. To was home for 5pm just as Ally was opening the doors. Knackered and exhausted. Sat and had a few Diet Pils. Mum, horrribly weak, was determined to bake Christopher's birthday cake. Hilda had phoned Ally who told her how 'low' Mum was feeling and so at 7:30 in walked Hilda & Tony (T dropped H with Mum then went on to Ossett to see Dutch Nell, a friend).  After closing Ally and I had a Chinese, and Mum set about icing Christopher's cake at 11pm. It was too much for her. She was breathless, and a stooped figure in the kitchen, like a 93 year-old. Hilda is such a good tonic for her. Dad's taking Mum to Pudsey on Thursday for three or four days.

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Monday February 25, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds

Driving lesson at 9am with Karen Hudson, who is very much into plastic jewelry. A personable young lady who puts me at ease. Driving instructors seem to be obsessed by chewing gum. Is it good for the nerves?

Frank Marshall phoned to say he will collect me at dawn instead of me having to find my own way to Ossett, which is good. We will be able to have a chat on the subject of our mutual predecessor, the ghastly Pirie. 

Little Christopher is three on Wednesday and it is under debate as to whether Mum is capable of attending the birthday party. It will be riotous and exhausting. It is a tragedy that she no longer enjoy her grandchildren and that none, except JPH, will remember her. It is so hard to accept that her young life is to be stubbed out. It makes me want to go out and kick the first wrinkled old pensioner I bump into.

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