Monday March 10, 1986

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

I was startled at 11pm GMT to receive a call from Janette who announced that she and John are to marry without pomp at Bradford Register Office on September 6, 1986, with Ally and I as the principal witnesses. Dumbfounded. I asked if John was aware of this decision and she gave one of her withering sighs. John phoned Dad last night, she says, to make it all official. The proposal took place on Saturday night after they dined with the Bakers, and Janette says she was completely taken aback. Janette wants a reception here for about 40 people, but we don't know how it will be possible. Our baby will be six weeks old. John needs a copy of his birth certificate and asks if I can find one for him. They have decided that Maria must have destroyed the original. I phoned Leeds Register Office and they asked me to forward a £5 postal order. We'd like to see John first before we are entirely satisfied that things are going to go ahead.

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Sunday March 9, 1986

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

Mothering Sunday. Felt low. A wet and cold day. To Guiseley at 10. Me at the wheel. Took pots of primroses and crocuses to Mum's grave. Very muddy, but we left it looking pretty. Samuel said: "Bye bye, Granny", when we left. To Lynn's for a sherry. John & Janette dined with them last night for David's birthday. We were in the dark about this and feel a little let down. We gave Dave a marble cheese board. Back here at 12 feeling atrociously grumpy. 

At 3 we went to (Auntie) Mabel's. She was with Connie and looked podgy. Samuel in his velvet suit and bow tie became quite paranoid about the snake-like draught excluder at her door and he paraded around the tiny flat saying "don't like it", and yet he couldn't put it down. Mabel told me that Mum's cousin Elsie Basham  died aged 68 at the end of last month (daughter of my great-aunt Harriet Basham, née Wilson). Elsie was renowned for attending every family funeral, no matter how distant or remote was the family member. Uncle Albert used to say that the elbows of her black overcoat were always covered in the grease from the numerous boiled ham funeral teas. Elsie has an only son, Peter Hawkridge (?) who is about 38 or 39. A huge tea. Chicken salad, &c. Mabel was very complementary about Ally saying how much she admired how she can run a public house and be a mother. I said that I am of the very same opinion. Samuel followed Mabel into her kitchen and called her 'granny'. He is a very good little boy and Mabel loves him.

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Saturday March 8, 1986

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds, LS11 5NQ

David B is 30. I am no longer the only one of the family at this revered, august age. I have been terribly lazy of late and this journal is suffering. 

Up at 7 when Samuel came skipping in. He is sweet and talkative but with a hideous, running, green nose. We endured Postman Pat before breakfast and then went over to Bradford at 9 with me at the wheel. Steve O'Connor's been doing some 'pointing'. Saw poor old Jack O'Brien in his garden and we expressed our condolences. Words are quite meaningless at such times. Poor Mary (Moore) is on sticks after six weeks in hospital and looks shocking. We measured up Sam's bedroom for festoon blinds. Sometimes I think that Ally thinks I am the Duke of Westminster. Back to Leeds for 11. Ally called upon her doctor for a prescription. _________. Samuel urinated in the car park. 

A fresh spring-like day. Bev Pirie came in with Audrey. Uncomfortable. Ally ironing. 12:30 saw the arrival of John, Janette and Charlotte Nora. We sat upstairs with drinks and I nursed the baby who is a replica of Catherine at the same age. JPH now has four sisters. Maria gave birth to another daughter recently. She's called Heather. John came down to the bar with me and I thought he might mention the possibility of a forthcoming wedding, but he didn't. They left at 3. Baby is beautiful.

Tonight: Margaret came in for a drink ________. Later, watched the film 'Poor Cow'.

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Friday March 7, 1986

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

The video repair man came back again and replaced our troublesome Fisher appliance. Good now. Almost a warm day. We argued in the pub about British Summertime. Some diaries say it begins on March 16 and others say March 30, but the latter is Easter Day, and I feel sure it isn't Christian to tamper with the clocks on such a feast. We'll see. Didn't phone Dad today. He has been so distant of late, and preoccupied. Ally says it is money issues. Phoned Mabel and booked ourselves in for Sunday tea. She is 67 tomorrow. She was at Marlene's washing her hair. To town at 4 for an hour. Bought Ally two blank video cassettes for Mothering Sunday. Samuel had tantrums in all the shops. It's a funny age. Phoned Sue (Samuel inserting the coins) and told her of Ally's scan and the possibility of twins. I do like getting them all going. Ally was furious for some reason. Poor Sue's sinuses are in turmoil and she's been consigned to wearing dark glasses though how that helps with catarrh God knows. The Nasons have been brought to near bankruptcy by the new patio doors and bunk beds. An extremely busy night though I didn't go down until 9:30 (I opened up 6-7). Ally went to bed early. I recorded 'The Colby's', and a film 'Poor Cow'. I will never have time to view them of course. 

Thursday March 6, 1986

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

Lynn's birthday today - poor girl. They went to Scarborough today and she hit the Pernod tonight. I phoned her and she seemed sad , and she mentioned visiting the cemetery on Sunday, Mother's Day. It will be sad. A year ago today I can remember Mum laying in bed upstairs saying, in a rare fit of self-pity, that she would never see another of Lynn's birthdays. How true. 

Ally saw Dr Duck at 9:50 who thought too that she is further 'on' than 21 weeks, more like 25 weeks, mentioned twins, and suggested a scan, but added that we shouldn't get too excited because baby might just be a large foetus. And Ally is only 5ft tall, don't forget. What do you think of twins? A lovely idea. 

No staff tonight. Just Ally and I. Busy early doors. Phoned Dad. He says some Dutch have provisionally booked in at Waltergarth. Lloyd Crowther, the previous owner of Waltergarth, has died in Benidorm.  Dad was sad about Bridget O'Brien. They used to talk when meeting at the dustbins.

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Wednesday March 5, 1986

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

We now live, breathe, sleep and eat Postman Pat. This afternoon we went over to dear Club St where Samuel and I stripped the small bedroom of its wallpaper. A hive of industry. Later we had lasagne and bathed a dusty, exhausted Sammy and attempted to put him to bed. He steadfastly refused. I was in the comic situation of crawling around in the darkened bedroom whilst Sammy lay clutching Snoopy, with one eye closed and other eye scowling down at me. Ally had her feet up watching 'Dallas'. It was poor Bobby Ewing's funeral. The old Miss Ellie back and Sue Ellen is on the bottle. Just like old times. I was sticking some photographs in Dad's album when at 10 o'clock a distraught man knocked at the door saying he was Mrs O'Brien's son-in-law and that our neighbour had died an hour ago from pneumonia, meningitis and blood pressure. An awful shock. We didn't know that Mrs O'B was ill. We were speechless. She was a sweet, Irish lady with a friendly face and in all the years we have dwelled at Club St she never once complained about our orgies and drinking bouts. We retired at 1am, quite worn out.

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Tuesday March 4, 1986

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds, LS11 5NQ

The lads were here again today in the cellar after spending a night at the Adriatic on Harehills Lane. They say the proprietor is a Pole. I thought he was an Italian. The job was finished at lunchtime and they celebrated with burgers and chips. A guy from Vallance's came to repair our video player and he condemned it, saying it was beyond repair and that the tuner had 'gone'. Postman Pat was sounding like a castrated pig. The annoying thing is that we now have to wait until Friday for a new appliance. British industry is so bloody slow. One wouldn't have to wait until Friday in Tokyo or Frankfurt. I boiled in my rage and stamped on the floor like John Cleese. Graham was back at 6:30 for an hour or so before going to meet Anthony (Browne) at 'Cloud Nine'. Graham told me the hair-raising tale of how he was almost copped for evading the payment of his TV licence. Gill was cautioned by a pin-striped thug on their doorstep "anything you say will be taken down" &c. Ally and I alone downstairs later with only three octogenarian punters. I attempted to record 'I, Claudius' but got the wrong channel.

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Monday March 3, 1986

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

We were rudely awakened at dawn by Samuel who went on the rampage and burst into Graham and Gill's rom waking Simon, whose cry sounded like one of Churchill's speeches. We had a chaotic breakfast and then went into town where Gill took a shirt back to Next. She has tried to do this in every other Next in GB. We went to Vallance's to moan about our video recorder, and while we were out they sent someone to the pub to fix it. Silly. We looked at Jane's antique pine shop on Burley Rd and we returned at 12 to find workmen crawling all over the place replacing the cooling system. Busy with lunches too, and the place was bouncing with activity. The Dixons left at 1:40 looking genuinely relaxed. I think the weekend has been a success. Gill was particularly in need of a break. Samuel delights in toddler company.

The poor Queen has had a rough ride on her current tour of the antipodes. Eggs were thrown at HM in New Zealand , and it was the first time that the Queen has been struck by a missile in the 34 years of her reign. People flashed bare bottoms and tits too. Despite all this tomfoolery the Queen always appears more relaxed on her walk-abouts in the Dominions.

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Sunday March 2, 1986

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

3rd Sunday in Lent

Early start. Samuel seeking his cousins ended up in bed with Gill, who was half dead. Graham, bright and breezy, went out in search of the Sunday Times. I concocted a breakfast for everyone. A 'full-English'. A mammoth task. We all ate in the kitchen. Philip Middlebrough phoned and we arranged to meet them at the Royalty on the Chevin, where a family room is set aside for the poor souls with a plethora of offspring. A brisk, bright and sunny day. We went up to the Chevin for 12. Hustle and bustle but extremely pleasant. All the children piled into a large plastic Wendy House and we big ones hit the drink. I drank pints of Guinness. Afterwards to Philip and Carol's, a shoe-box in a Menston backwater. Tom, the elder son, drags a duvet around as a comforter. Oh dear. Home for 5pm. Liz phoned in sick and so I phoned Maureen who came in with Margaret at 8. We sat downstairs until 9:30 talking about F & B, Andrew & Lorraine, &c. Graham went out and bought us a Chinese-takeaway. We watched a play - "Hotel Du Lac". We wet ourselves laughing  at the quip Graham made to Philip last night: "Hello Philip - still as boring as ever." Aaarrgghhhh.

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Saturday March 1, 1986

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

St David's Day

Sunshine. Graham and Gill got here at 12:30, and after all the children had thoroughly inspected each other, Graham and I came down to the tap room to watch the rugby from Twickenham. England v. Eire. Graham is a fan, of course. He hit the Diet Pils with a vengeance and suffered thereafter. He had all the symptoms: 1). Senseless grin, (2) Purple eyes, (3) Legs akimbo, (4) looseness of both vowels and bowels, &c. He drifted hither and thither with his light-blue pullover draped over his shoulders.

Later the children all went to bed. The Dixons together and Samuel in ours. We dined on lasagne, and then went down to meet Philip and Carol (Middlebrough). A fairly quiet night with interruptions from the children who cried at intervals. ____________. Graham was the first to retire. V. pissed.

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Friday February 28, 1986

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

Will Prince Andrew wed Fergie? She is of good stock, a brilliant pedigree in fact but her age is against her. 26 leaves her a bit long in the tooth. She has a colourful past and doesn't have the virgin image of Lady Diana Spencer. A couple of nameless EP reporters called in and gasped - they didn't know I was here. When I told them that Fergie has some Leeds ancestry the note books came out and they took down my genealogical information, and a gleam of interest was aroused. They will contact me when an announcement is made.

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Thursday February 27, 1986

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

Christopher Paul (Nason) is 4 today. We went over to Guiseley at 1:30 to Thorpe Lane via the cemetery where Mum's grave looked desolate. Dead flowers from January, and the water in the bowl a solid block. Ally and Samuel stayed in the car. We didn't want mud on the boys party clothes. We went on to Sue's where she looked worn out and short tempered, full of cold and complaining of a constant headache. The children were all in a queer mood and uncommunicative. Dad was quiet too. He went to collect Frances from school. She came in looking very grown up in her grey uniform. Samuel and Ben managed to wreck the record player whilst Rod Stewart was in full swing. A gloomy party really. I had a few glasses of wine and asked Dad if he would like to be a casual barman on his visits to the Moorhouse. He says he will have a go. The poor man is in a highly emotional state. He almost broke down when I told him we had been to see Mum. He bleakly said: "I haven't been for some time." We shouldn't consider it a duty to go and should only do so when we feel it's right. It eases the pain to talk to a stone. It's good to have a place where people can go. Lynn was bright. Janette and Charlotte boycotted the party.

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Wednesday February 26, 1986

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

The first round of the L. Gledhill Quiz extravaganza when Don Whitfield (Brown Hare, Harehills) and Co. came here. A good turn out. Ally was the quiz master, and we lost by 11 points. A mixed bag of questions. One of their team won 'Sale of the Century' in 1979. Don loved it and played all the ghastly country and western records on the juke box. Rob Piper with one of his barmaids and her husband came in. A queer strangely naive chap. We were busy and all in all it was a good night. No sign of LG. It was interesting to see that Rob had managed to get a by through to the second round. He is LG's pet. Upstairs we watched 'Dynasty' - no, 'The Colbys'.

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Tuesday February 25, 1986

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

The video cometh at about 12 o'clock. Not happy with the picture by any means. Ally looked at me as if to say: "I told you so." We recorded Postman Pat for Samuel which he loved and "I, Claudius" which I watched at bedtime. Derek Jacobi. What an excellent actor he is. Haven't I seen him in something at the Bradford Alhambra?

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Monday February 24, 1986

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

Full Moon

My phone call to Horton today was distressing. Poor Dad was so distant and vague and uncaring. He seemed totally disinterested. He must be so depressed. 

We have re-started the pool knock-out competitions. Nothing spectacular. Clive won. 

The video player is coming tomorrow. Yippee. After all the years of waiting. 

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Sunday February 23, 1986

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

2nd Sunday in Lent

John & Sheila.

My Uncle John phoned from Cambridge wanting to talk to Dad. He and Sheila are over here from the Canaries for five weeks 'enjoying the cold'. He wants to go to Horton on Saturday when Arnold and Dot are supposedly going. I phoned Dad and he seemed a little glum. What can we do to alleviate his misery? He has applied for the position of North Yorkshire road safety officer and has completed an application form. Good luck to him. He cannot live on his police pension and the erratic B & B intake. His car is a rust heap, and he needs a purpose in life. 

Anyway, regarding this video player. We went to Vallance's yesterday where they can provide interest free credit. We snapped up a Fisher Sanyo appliance for £430 or so, paying about £8 a week. I have wanted one for ages.

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Saturday February 22, 1986

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

Ian and Jacq.

Bright and sunny. At 12 Jacq and Ian came in and we sat upstairs discussing the coming marriage. They are  having the usual pre-wedding nerves and some family squabbles. ___________. Ian's stag night is on March 20, and I must go. The wedding reception is taking place at the Mercury Ladbroke Hotel in Garforth. Jacq looked very well. They left at 2. To Vallance's where we saw a video player and yes - we bought it! (See tomorrow). We half expected to see John and Janette but they didn't appear. We both agree that a wedding 'do' here will be too much for Ally. Like Hell, in fact. Chris and Liz worked tonight. I went down for a drink.

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Friday February 21, 1986

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds, LS11 5NQ

Margaret.

Our recent holiday must have been more beneficial for the pub than we ever thought it would because a more relaxed, warm, and homely atmosphere has descended upon the Moorhouse this week. Ally and I like young lovers, laughter abounding, &c. Such pleasantness. A busy night. Just Margaret and I. Chris was supposed to be working but said he now has a prior engagement, but then he actually came here into the tap room at 8 o'clock slobbering all over Vicky Pearson. I fumed at this. Vicky will eat Chris for breakfast. She has had more prick than a second hand dart board. If the lad continues to refuse to work Fridays he will get the chop. Totally out of order him coming in here as a customer. Later upstairs I read Robert Graves.

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Thursday February 20, 1986

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds, LS11 5NQ

Some of the Fleet Street organs thought that yesterday would see Prince Andrew's engagement to Sarah Ferguson. The royal family don't do things like that. I gave Dad a run down on Miss F's family. LG called in at 12:30 and was affable. Ally went over to her clinic in Bradford at 1pm taking in Linfood, &c. Dad and I ate an enormous lunch of steak & kidney pie at 3pm, and then he went off to Guiseley to see Susie. He cannot dwell anywhere or on anything for long and he left in a vague flurry, almost on automatic pilot. I find it hard to describe his demeanour. Ally was back at 4pm in fine form. The midwife is pleased with her progress. She is 19 weeks exactly. Well, yesterday she was. Ally is so very content with the Bradford set-up. 

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Wednesday February 19, 1986

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

Club Street.

Cold and ice. Lieutenant the Prince Andrew, RN, is 26. My fourth driving test at Harehills at 9am. A bloody disaster. Mucked up at a few junctions and made myself a laughing stock at a roundabout . My examiner shit himself at some traffic lights. Such a foolish boy. Back home for 10am. Dad walked over to Morrison's with Samuel and when they toddled back over the ice and saw the 'L' plates still in position he asked no further questions. At 4 we all went to Club Street. Dad helped me rack sone wine. It was like vinegar. Ugh. Ally watched the tv series The Colbys. Samuel slept in our bed. Dad and I went out to the Oddfellows, which I didn't like, and then to the Coach House, a Whitbread establishment. Took fish and chips home for us. Ally had a prawn curry. Returned to the Moorhouse at 11:30. An exhausting sort of day. I am a Reginald Molehusband.

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Tuesday February 18, 1986

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

Dad phoned from Guiseley this afternoon and invited himself over here for a few days. We love to see him. I am taking my driving test tomorrow and so the long held secret will be discovered at the eleventh hour. We had tea off the Minton china when Dad came at 4:30. Samuel had been 'glued' to 'Postman Pat'. We stood at the window for ages waiting for Dad's chugging, ailing vehicle. I went down at 5:30. We had no staff tonight. Stone dead. Ally and Dad came down at 8 and sat chatting. He says that Janette now says the wedding is to take place at Bradford Register Office in June or July followed by a reception for 40 people here. Ally paled at this. She will of course be nine months pregnant by then. Dad added that John and Janette are coming here soon to discuss the finer details and that we are not to say that he has 'leaked' the news to us. Maria gave birth to a daughter, her fourth child, recently. JPH remains the only son. We went up at 11:30 and I told Dad of my test. He thinks I am weird for not saying anything before. For once he has had a complete week at Waltergarth. The poor man hates solitude.

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Monday February 17, 1986

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

Washington's Birthday Observance

Lynn came here this afternoon bubbling away with the children and stayed for tea. The girls eat like little pigs. Mounds of biscuits and chocolates were consumed. It was all too much for Samuel who sat goggle-eyed at the visit. Tantrums. We put it down to excitement. Poor Lynn was wearing Mum's engagement ring and confessed to great feelings of morbidity and gloom. She has terrible nightmares and thinks that she will go the same way. Let's face it. Cancer or heart attacks dominate in taking the population down and so one of the family is going to be struck down in a similar way. But why be in fear of it?

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Sunday February 16, 1986

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

1st Sunday in Lent

I have contracted another soddin' cold. Probably from Samuel. My lips are cracked and I bleed when I smile. Downstairs bearded Brian asked me about Kaiser Wilhelm II and what became of him. I told him that the old Emperor had died in Holland (Dorn) in 1941, and that his grandson had married Lady Honor Guinness, and that his great-granddaughter Antonia von Preussen was the wife of a future Duke of Wellington. Yawn, gasp.

The pub is extraordinarily quiet this afternoon and bliss to go upstairs at 2:30 to watch 'Eastenders'. I sat with a large cherry brandy, purely for medicinal purposes. Oozing from various facial outlets. Mucus, &c. Feet up. Samuel is very good at times like this. Playing doctors and hospitals and practicing mechanics at the rear of his Postman Pat car. Quite a chatterbox. Large dark eyes like his mum. I'd love a dozen like him. Ally won't discuss boy names, and no doubt has a secret weapon up her sleeve. Wayne, or Dean, or something. 

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Saturday February 15, 1986

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

It would be a tragedy to lose the prime minister. She is the only person in whom I can place my confidence and she does deserve a third term. Another crack at the whip. If the Tories ditch her before the next general election I will refuse to vote and remain at home on polling day and read Dickens.

Andrew is 22. 

The pub was deathly quiet for three reasons. 

1). The weather

2). Barry McGuigan is fighting on the telly

3). The punters may think the Kennedys are still here

Bernie: wellingtons.

Tonight: Punters gathered around the TV in the tap room. Even Frank and Bernie and other lounge inhabitants, to watch the fight. I've never been one for boxing but found it entertaining. I stood for the national anthems and then dimmed the pub lighting for effect. It was like the Odeon cinema. Bernie was wearing her wellington boots. Barry McGuigan won in 13 rounds. His opponent was one of those south American types. 

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