Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ
Ally went to see Dr Duck. Hopefully her last visit. I drove to Bradford, somewhat 'jerkily' hoping the bumpy ride would inspire my wife to bring forth her child, but to no avail. We returned to the Moorhouse at tea time disappointed. Ally desperately wanted to go into labour and have the baby before the weekend. Poor Samuel has a poorly tummy. At the pub I was downstairs busy until 11pm, and when I eventually went upstairs Ally was moody , doing housework, and complaining of back ache. Her lower back. This must be it. I went down and got the pub ready for opening in the morning, and at 12 we agonised whether we should go to Auntie Hilda's with Sam, because something is happening, albeit slowly. I phoned Tony after midnight. He told us to go over. We did. I dropped the pub keys through Audrey's letterbox somewhat noisily, and then failed to start the car. It has an automatic choke which doesn't always agree with my large foot. I woke the Egans. Ally drove to Pudsey where we deposited a poorly Samuel. Ally stayed in the car and Hilda jogged out in her nightie to peep at her, now in some considerable pain. I drove to Club Street for 2am, where we went to bed.
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