Wednesday September 4, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

Overcast - me and the weather. The alarm sounded at 7 but Ally switched it off for half an hour. Felt groggy and could have stayed in bed, but didn't. Graham went for a run, devoured an egg, and left for Manchester. Ally, Sam and I went to town and bought pies at the market, and a pile of birthday cards which cost me £4 - the tribulations of having so many kinfolk. Uncle Peter appeared at 12 for a Cornish pasty. I sat with him for an hour. Julie is marrying Steve on Sept 6 next year and afterwards at Norfolk Gardens, Bradford. Dad is to be invited for the whole day, but cousins are invited to the evening soiree. Tonight Ally and I worked without staff. Chippy's friend, Ian Pitts, appeared with a car key and asked me to keep it behind the bar for Chippy to collect tomorrow. Odd. Pitts said that a gang will be coming here on Friday Sept 13. Say no more.

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Tuesday September 3, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

Graham appeared again. This time he's working in Manchester. The poor boy looks tired and is still off the cigs and jogging regularly. He came in and flopped down on our settee and slept until 10 when he came down for a few (drinks). It was dead downstairs. Paul Chalmers came in - you remember Paul - he was a much tattooed regular here last year. Anyway, his sister was a victim of the recent Manchester Airport disaster (Aug 22) when 54 bound for Corfu were fried on the tarmac. The poor buggers didn't even get in the air.

Barbara Thingy appeared on 'Name That Tune', a ghastly musical quiz on ITV. You remember Barbara - Lynn's elderly friend from her Yorkshire Light Aircraft days, who frequented Pine Tops gatherings in the halcyon days of yesteryear. 

Someone had an epileptic fit in a mini in the car park and I played the Doctor Kildare bit quite well. Had fish and chips with Graham washed down with cherry brandy - watched a lewd 'Carry On' film.

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Monday September 2, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

The tap room today is like a fading, rural cinema. Old John, Joan and I watching Basil Rathbone in the ancient version of The Hound of the Baskerville's. Janet worked. Stone dead. I kept a stealthy eye on J's activities. Ally came down at 10 to sit with Geoff and Phyllis. Later toasties in bed. Still reading Ridley's Henry VIII. It's poor - I'd say.

Horribly wet. Quiet here. Speculation all day as to who has been axed from the Cabinet. The BBC and ITV reported just who had been promoted or dismissed before any news came out of No. 10. Everything is leaked nowadays. Leon Brittan is Secretary of State, DTI. Douglas Hurd becomes Home Secretary. Poor Tom King goes to Ulster. Peter Rees and the sports minister are sacked, and so is Patrick Jenkin. The new employment secretary is Lord Young. No recall for Cecil Parkinson's Disease. Thank God. What a smarmy little spiv he is without doubt. No big changes at the top. Willie (Whitelaw), Geoffrey (Howe) and Quentin (Hailsham) remain in place. Is this the team that will lead us to victory in 1987/88? Watch N.B. Tebbit. He is party chairman and Chancellor of the Duchy of Lancaster but he's the one at Margaret (Thatcher's) heels if you ask me.

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Sunday September 1, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

Two staff came in at 12. I was supposed to be hideously hungover and dying but felt very good considering. We sat waiting for Marlene and Frank to come but they didn't show. Little Sammy behaved so well yesterday. Debbie did look wan to say the least and I think Sam gave her one of his operatic performances. The poor girl handled him though. Last night he was still awake at 9:30 and Jacq gave him a tour of all the rooms in the house to calm him. He must have thought we had abandoned him.

Mum was so missed yesterday. I felt dejected. I do this at family gatherings now. Dad did very well. It must have been painful. Mum and Dad were married at St Lawrence Church 31 years ago. 

Today is the birthday of dear Roy Barnes and Martyn Cole.

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