Sunday January 5, 1986

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

2nd Sunday after Christmas

Downstairs this morning to conclude stripping the pub of its Yuletide finery. It looked a drab place afterwards. January will be stone dead now. The lunchtime takings were lamentable. £89 or thereabouts. Silly. Up at 2:30 for the Eastenders omnibus, roast beef, Yorkshire puddings. Samuel is probably cutting some back teeth. Rosy cheeks and a temper this afternoon. _______. Liz and Chris worked tonight. Stone dead again. Like Tales from the Rue Morgue. I stayed upstairs with my ailing wife who was laid propped up with pillows and wearing a baggy dressing gown. Cary Grant in a Hitchcock movie. Silly scenes on Mount Rushmore. Cary Grant tussling on Teddy Roosevelt's nostrils, &c. Dad phoned at 8:30 to say he has received a wedding invitation. My cousin Guy Maxwell Holland (Dorothy's third child) is to marry on January 18, at St Helen's, Merseyside, to one Carmel Patricia Corcoran. Dad wasn't wearing specs and giggled. Did he mean Carol? (No he was right in the first instance). He asked if he should go, and I responded with a definite 'yes'. I am all for family reunions, and life is too short for acrimony, except for where uncle John Wilson is concerned. _______.

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Saturday January 4, 1986

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds, LS11 5NQ

Yesterday Ally bought Hilda flowers and bunch of tea roses for Mum's grave which we took to the cemetery before Katie's party. Samuel thinks Granny Rhodes lives in a pretty garden and his waves at her headstone. Very touching. 

Today: I did lunch alone. So quiet. Only the Egans, Jack Collett, &c. Ally made steak and kidney for dinner. This baby is a little beggar. Ally is breathless, nauseous, tired, worn out and weak kneed. Surely, it cannot go on? Aren't we over the worst?

Liz worked. Dim as a Toc H lamp. Afterwards, I went around at 11:30 taking down the Christmas decorations. Bernie, aghast, said this was a terrible thing to do and will bring bad luck down on our house.

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Friday January 3, 1986

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

Fat little Katie is three today. It's three years today since we went through that Fred Karno's circus routine on Thorpe Lane. I have no hangover, which is interesting. Do keep off the beer, Michael. To Hilda's at 12. (I had previously phoned them at 10, and Sam had said "Tony, Porridge"). Samuel has been an angel. Hilda had bathed him, put him to bed and says he had been 'as good as gold'. Hilda has enjoyed having Samuel and says she will help when the baby comes along. Crisp and cold. I walked over to the fish and chip shop at Waterloo and saw my hideous uncle John Wilson, puffing on his pipe in his car parked outside. I ignored the swine. His wife Kathleen Powell was in the shop but didn't recognise me. What a wrinkled old thing she is. A Mother Theresa look-alike in fact. As we drove through Pudsey we saw Mabel but didn't stop. She waved. On to Katie's birthday party. Dad there. Lynn is a good organiser of childrens' games. All very Tranmere Park though. Tonight MM, Marita and Dave L appeared. Marita announced that she wants to go live in Tenerife. _______.

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Thursday January 2, 1986

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

Bank Holiday in Scotland

Mum & Dad's birthday, but with that awful feeling of loss. I phoned Horton and found Dad to be out and Sue to be in. I phoned later. Samuel sang 'happy birthday' which was sweet. It must be a dreadful day for Dad today but suppose that Susie is using all her powers to keep him smiling. We took Samuel to Hilda's at 5 o'clock. I had a large whisky with Tony. Hilda was wearing one of Mum's dresses. Touching. Samuel seemed to settle with Hayley's toys and at 6 we escaped. Ally looking delicious in her new mohair creation. Her hair is superb these days. To the Menston Arms where we accosted the landlord, a man in his 60s, who says that Sam Smith's brewery are 'the most unprincipled bastards' he has ever encountered. He is due to retire in two years and Ally and I had the same thought. We would go to the Menston Arms before any other pub, and Leslie Gledhill is the area manager here. We shall have to push ourselves for this one and see what LG has to say. To the Hare & Hounds for 7:30. We the first to arrive and stood at the bar. I drank whisky and stayed off the beer. Susie and Pete came in next with Dad, who looked scruffy._______. He was distant and struggling to keep control. We dined at 8:30 or 9 on a table for 10. I cringed. There was an empty chair next to Dad. Steaks all round. Me a Porterhouse. Ally a fillet. Jolly, jovial dinner. At the salad bar away from Dad Susie whispered that Dad had broken down at the New Year. To Sue's afterwards. Whisky. Marx Brothers. Home at 1.

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