Tuesday March 12, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

Sunshine. Dad went to Horton to meet a carpet cleaner and telephone engineer. It was a pleasant surprise when Mum appeared in the sitting room dressed and looking lovely ay 10:20. Mr Armitage has really boosted her morale. Dad is amazed that Mum has fallen for such 'conmen' as he refers to Hall and Armitage. 'What good have they done your poor Mum?' he said. Dad cannot appreciate that Mum needs someone or something to cling onto outside the family - someone who appreciates her terrible plight. At 11 Dr Smith appeared and I sat in on his chat with Mum. She told him she couldn't sleep, eat or walk. He just nodded and coughed into his briefcase. What could he say? He gave her a prescription for sleeping pills and water tablets to deal with the swelling in her ankles. She told him that Armitage doesn't want her to take the latter pills. She told Smith of her depression. He told her it was only to be expected because she must be so frustrated to have her active young life shattered. He told her not to feel guilty at living with us and 'putting on us' because, he added: 'if the situation was reversed you'd look after them, wouldn't you?' She agreed. I said very little. It wasn't my place to. I took the doctor down and off he went. Dad came back at 4:30 with a large cheese plant flapping in the back of the car. Mum complained of feeling exhausted and took to her bed. Maureen worked 5:30 to 8 and then Ally and I went down. It was a quiet day. We only took £185 from both sessions. I felt particularly glum tonight. _____. On the juke box I played 'Unchained Melody' by Al Hibbler. Ally phoned Bessie. They are going to Cheltenham Races tomorrow. Bessie has blood pressure and pains. Kissed Mum goodnight. She had taken two new pills. To bed at 11:15 with Lady Longford's biography of HM and a large glass of brandy and dry (ginger). 

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Monday March 11, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

Up at breakfast with my wife, son, and Selina Scott on the TV. She (Selina) always looks as though she's spent the night with the Royal Green Jackets, or just completed a spell in Holloway.

Gorbachev: ruling until next century?

On the news were hear that Russian TV is playing Chopin and showing images of swans gliding on a Russian lake. Something must have happened to dear little Mr Chernenko. He was such a cuddly old thing. Surely enough it was then announced that the Siberian dwarf passed away last night. Mikhail Gorbachev, 54, succeeds. They say that Gorbachev will be ruling the Kremlin until the next century. One never knows, does one?

Mum was supposed to be seeing a Mr Armitage, FRCS in Keighley but was too weak. After a call from Mrs Hall she was told that Mr Armitage will come here at 9 o'clock tomorrow.

Dr Smith is also coming here tomorrow from the clinic at Beeston. 

Dad was out walking with Samuel when at 12 Uncle Peter appeared in his overalls to see Mum. I first went upstairs and asked Mum whether she wanted to see her brother and after what seemed like a long hard think she agreed. I showed him up. He kissed her and sat with her. _________. He seemed very shocked by her appearance.

The decorators arrived here. At least twelve of them. The tap room was the first room to receive treatment. They say they will be hard at it for a week. I can hardly wait because we have lived in near squalor for a year.

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Sunday March 10, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

3rd Sunday in Lent

Andrew: licentiousness?

A 'Knobbly Knees' contest here. My God, the Diet Pils has brought new life into the old lounge here. Phyllis, who for years sat demurely with a slim-line tonic, is now knocking back the pils and flaunting herself like a good time dancing girl from the days of the Wild West. Underwear flashers predominate. Large thighs, &c. I was snapping away with the camera and the place was really swinging this afternoon.

The Prince Edward, a Duke of Cambridge-to-be, is 21 today. He looks very much like the Queen. HM can be very proud of her sons. Only Prince Andrew shows any signs of developing that Hanoverian  strain of licentiousness. I have the recurring nightmare that Andrew goes off and marries a Cockney beauty queen.

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Saturday March 9, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

My first Saturday afternoon behind the bar in ages. Worked with Margaret. It was dead too. Archie's vitriolic behaviour  had us in fits of merriment. Ally upstairs ironing like a _______.

Ted the Grass.

News: the Daily Telegraph headline 'Glacier Britons rescued' is all news to me. Reg Freeson, the Labour MP is quitting because of 'hard left' pressure. Poor bugger. 'Heart operation girl, 5, is doing well'. That's good. 'Mortgage rate rise expected' - that's bad. 

In Stevenage a public house called Edward the Confessor is known locally to young people of the town as 'Ted the Grass'. That's funny.

Someone asked the Duke of Gloucester whether he thought we should return the Elgin Marbles to Athens and he is reported to have responded: 'No, it would be more sensible to ship the rest of the Parthenon here.' Bloody marvellous.

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Friday March 8, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

David Baker is 29 today. Mum thought he might phone to thank her for his birthday card but he did not. Lynn phoned to say they had been to the zoo at Knaresborough and were very disappointed at what they found. The animals were ailing and slumped around gasping for breath in their cages.

Auntie Mabel is 66 today. As expected, she appeared at 1pm with the Harwoods for lunch which they had upstairs. Mum looked weary and sat in her armchair as we ate.  Auntie M had a very large ploughman's lunch. ______. Frank borrowed our nuptials video to transfer to Betamax cassette. Dad sat very quietly.

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Thursday March 7, 1985

 Full Moon

Moorhouse Inn

Little Lord Snowdon is 55 today. They say that Princess Margaret is back on the cigs. It would be foolish of HRH to say the least. 

A gang of Egyptians are buying Harrods.

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Wednesday March 6, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

_________. Mum is hopelessly 'down'. It is Lynn's 27th birthday. It is the fact that it's her daughter's birthday that has so upset Mum today. She was weeping in bed at lunchtime and I made some attempt to comfort her. She said writing Lynn's birthday card was a wrench. "I won't be here next year, will I?"

Lynn and Dave are on holiday this week - at Scarborough today, and they called in with the girls after their seaside jaunt. Mum broke down in front of Lynn too.

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Tuesday March 5, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

I have the most disgusting hangover I have perhaps ever experienced. Ally too lay whimpering beneath the quilt and refused to climb out of bed. I had to persuade Maureen to open up at 11 and I stood around red-eyed. I made a lasagne and pies, and fed Samuel. Poor Terry (Teri/Terri/Theresa/Teresa??)  came in to work and I sprawled upon the settee and slept. Ally found some inner strength and climbed out of bed to cook. Audrey enjoyed it and found it a huge joke. Then, at 2pm, when the calm of post-lunch activity descended who should appear but David and Jean Watts with the Dowager Watts and Hannah. I could have died. We gave them coffee and attempted conversation, but I had to make an exit to spew up. Have you ever tried to vomit quietly? Back in the lounge I think my indisposition had gone undetected. David W is going to college in Leeds on Tuesdays and they will be back in a few weeks when we will be in a better situation.

Mum and Dad came back at 5. She is always 'done in' after travelling.

Andy Bowden's last night. He attempted to persuade me to buy him a drink at 11pm but I told him to be gone. Staggered to death bleary-eyed and at deaths door. 

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Monday March 4, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

The miners strike has fizzled out after a futile year and they have gone back to work, on bended knees. Serves 'em right. 

Driving lesson at 9.  Ally got a helper in the kitchen today. She's called Terry (Teresa), one of the nice lounge customers.

Sir Iain Moncreiffe of that Ilk has joined the choir invisible. Succeeded in the baronetcy by Lord Erroll and in the clan chieftainship by his second son the Hon Peregrine. Only last month Sir Iain was accused of having made vulgar suggestions  to the dear prime minister in the Palace of Holyroodhouse, which he fervently denied.

Jill and Tim called in at 8 for half an hour. It was Andy Bowden's penultimate session. At 11 we found ourselves continuing in the revelry and the three of us, Andy and Ally and I hit the Diet Pils with a vengeance. It was soon 4:14am and we were pissed as arseholes. Andy is a stimulating friend.

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