Wednesday October 9, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds

Slept until 8:30 when the Schweppes delivery man woke us. Much chaos. To market after a frugal breakfast. Ally explained we have no money and that our pantry is positively Ethiopian. Ally is currently grumpy, morose and cruel, &c. Pub life is getting her down. We have had a two year slog now, with the addition of Samuel, and it must be too much. God only knows what we will do back in the outside world. I am unemployable. I might become a hermit. 

The Tory conference is so civilised after the last month of infighting and back-stabbing with the SDP turncoats and Labour. Surely, the PM will win again in Oct '87? It is always so interesting to speculate as to who will succeed and who will fail. Douglas Hurd has moved rapidly up the tree. He's a bit Heath-like though. Peter Walker is so wet he leaves a slimy patch wherever he's been. No, the future lies with Norman Tebbit or Nigel Lawson.

No staff tonight. A good night. Ally relaxed.

-=-