Wednesday March 27, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

An early start. Up at 7. Dad went to Horton and he deposited me at Beeston Medical Centre en route. I sat in one of those horrible queues full of wheezing old men and snotty-nosed wailing three year olds. Very lowering it all is. Saw Dr Danks at 8:30 who prescribed some pills which will prevent me going into an asthmatic attack on seeing Tara (the retriever) next week. I am told that they do not mix with alcohol. Back home for 9. Mum was bright and cheerful and I made a mug of Complan  and helped her to sit up. At lunchtime she poked at a beef curry, but didn't eat, and then had six fried scampi which she enjoyed.

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Tuesday March 26, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

Uneventful. Not feeling very descriptive these days. This year has been full of gloom. The wind has been knocked out of our sails. Here I am, at 30, but for a week. I have a pot-belly in the making and signs of a developing double chin. Not a grey hair though, but neither has my mother.  ___________.

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Monday March 25, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

Armitage came to see Mum. He can do very little but he does boost her morale and always goes away leaving her cheery and fighting. I do not think Mum sees enough of the health people. She now has bigger and stronger sleeping pills. 

Archie (left).

To Archibald Drummond Adams's funeral at Cottingley (crematorium). The crematorium resembles a cinema. A full Moorhouse Inn turn-out. (The Rev Terry) Munro took the modern, almost slapstick service. Pitiable, really. Mavis (Adams) didn't weep and sat with a stony face throughout. I found a back-row seat and travelled in a taxi with Taffy, Lesley Heaton, and an anonymous mourner. Aren't funerals awful? The pub was packed afterwards. Archie would have liked that. 

Tonight was also like a gala night. The mourners, covered in cuts and bruises after a brawl in the club, hit the booze with a savagery that took my breath away.

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Sunday March 24, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

5th Sunday in Lent

Still groggy. Feel half dead. Watched Peter Sellers in a 'Pink Panther' film this afternoon. Ally made gammon at tea tea time. My wife resents me being ill and banged around a good deal. Mum instructed me to go to bed, but I managed to stay on my feet.

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