Friday July 18, 1986

5, Club Street, Lidget Green, Bradford BD7 2PB

Clementine Nora Levinyer.

I slept until 5am, and on waking Ally says her pains have stopped.  We waited until 9am and then went back to Hilda's for Samuel, who had been crying for his Daddy. Back to the Moorhouse. Did the wages for the staff. I went to the bank &c. By late morning it had all started again. We went back to Club Street to wait for Bessie and Frank , who had been informed of Ally's condition in the early hours. Ally paced around looking very uncomfortable. I went to the Co-op to buy brown rolls and a tin of salmon and when I came back the situation had altered. Her contractions were very regular. I ate greedily. At the BRI when will I eat again? Ally's pains were worse. I grabbed Sam by the hand and picked up a bottle of lemonade and a door key and went to Mary Moore's who agreed to have him until Bessie and Frank arrive. Poor Mary is 72 and on two sticks. She told me not to worry because she had been a teacher. Ally and I piled into the Maestro and I drove like a madman to the BRI where they put us in a room. It was 1:30pm. (Gynaecological redaction). At 4:16pm Clementine Nora Levinyer was born. I shed tears. Baby weighs 8lb 3oz. Ally so brave, despite the pain. She phoned people, everyone, at 5 o'clock. I went to Club St and collected a few cans of Carlsberg. Sam couldn't understand. F & B got here at 4pm. They went to bed at 10:30 and I went through the phone book to let everyone know. Dad was choked.

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Thursday July 17, 1986

 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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Wednesday July 16, 1986

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

Club Street.

Our baby is due. To went to Morrison's at Hunslet, in the car, alone. My first solo flight. I drive much better without somebody breathing all over me. Life will be much easier now I can run around to the bank and shops. It has just come right for the baby too. Hospital visits and trailing between Leeds and Bradford, &c. I am extraordinarily happy. After 3 we went off for the evening to Club Street to make the final preparations. Ally was in the cellar moving old wine bottles and I was in the garden uprooting weeds and putting down 'Pathclear'. It's obvious that Samuel is expecting some upheaval, but he doesn't know what. Small children are so sensitive. Back at the Moorhouse our outside plant pots have gone, stolen. Never mind, they have had a longer innings than I expected.

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Tuesday July 15, 1986

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

A hysterical and historic day. Awakened early with bleary eyes and heavy jowls. Ally furious at my lack of self control. "Of all the nights to go out and get pissed", &c. We went out for a drive with me at the wheel. I was sweating like a boiled pig. Looking at myself in the car mirror it was a horrific sight. Pink eyes, spikey hair. My driving test was at 10:45 with a Mr Garlick. I did very well because I drove uncharacteristically sluggish and slow. My only mistake was to ignore some defunct traffic lights, and then brake excessively. I thought I had failed. But when traffic lights are out of order and cars are all sat waiting to move surely someone has to take the initiative? Mr Garlick was irate and tetchy. My Highway Code questions were as disaster. He then asked: "What lights do you put on in fog?" Moronically I said: "Dunno." He smiled: "Let's break it down a bit. Inside lights or outside lights?" Lovely. Yes, I PASSED! Thirteen years and five tests later. Ally and Sam had been for a Coca Cola at the Brown Hare. We rejoiced. I peeled off my L plates. My hangover disappeared. All's right with the world. I was so shocked I allowed Ally to drive home. Phoned Bessie, and then Dad at Horton, who was overjoyed. Phoned Sue, and then Lynn phoned me. It's about time I had some good news, don't you think? 

Harold Wilkinson is 75 today. St Swithin's Day. On this day I always think of our old neighbour, Ethel 'Brit' Greenwood.

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Monday July 14, 1986

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

Bank Holiday in N. Ireland (prov.)

New baby week, perhaps? LG phoned this morning and asked me to beware of thieves and vagabonds because the landlord of the Duncan opened his door after midnight last night to be confronted by an armed robber. Most disconcerting. A similar thing happened at the Mucky Duck. 

It was the Gaston Ladies' Darts tournament at the Raynville, Bramley, tonight. We went out at 8 taking Edna and Madge's daughter, Julie Millar. It was the usual drunken orgy with no one seriously watching the darts. I became very intoxicated. Saw many old pals, i.e. Enid and Jean from the Red Lion at Girlington. Fran O'Brien was cool. I collected royal wedding bunting from LG. They were all amazed that Ally, in her condition, had made it. Colin Black quizzed us on possible names. We have told nobody, but you can have a preview: 

Boy: Joshua Michael Albert

Girl: Clementine Nora Levinyer

Our star player, Madge, had lost her game before we even arrived. Home at midnight with fish and chips for Jacq and Ian (who had been babysitting). Watched the Cawood wedding video. I watched it with double vision. More booze. And yes, it's my driving test tomorrow.

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Sunday July 13, 1986

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

7th Sunday after Trinity

Wellington Inn.

Sunshine. We went, after breakfast, to Knaresborough, via Otley, Pannal, Follifoot, &c. It was sad for Papa because this was a route he took when he took Mum out on one of her very last car journeys when she was so ill and living with us at the Moorhouse. Sam went with grandad to look at the river whilst Ally and I went to the Wellington to see Mr Thompson. It's a tiny place, almost pokey, after the Moorhouse. We were stunned to hear that the takings average £1,700 a week which Mr T says is very good, and that no pub in Knaresborough takes over £2,000 in a week. The Thompsons look like a reasonable couple. Some time ago we met his son Richard (a trainee) at an industrial relations seminar at the brewery. The Wellington has a good downstairs kitchen and an enclosed garden at the rear - ideal for a small child. Dad thinks we should take it, because with a growing family, a smaller pub would be better for us. I already feel overworked. It might also mean a drop in salary. We went over the place from top to bottom and then had a drink in the garden with Dad and Sam. Then to Follifoot and back to the Moorhouse for 5pm. Roast chicken. Busy night. Only Karen and I. Dad did a great job washing up.

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Saturday July 12, 1986

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

Battle of the Boyne. 

William of Orange landing at Brixham.

In 1988 they are going to be celebrating the 300th anniversary of 'The Glorious Revolution', to commemorate the exile of King James II and implantation of William of Orange upon the throne. The Bill of Rights, &c. I do not want to be involved. The deposing of any monarch, no matter what supposed wrongs he has committed, leaves a very bitter taste on my palate. The RCs won't be overjoyed either. It's foolhardy if you ask me.

I phoned Mr Thompson at the Wellington and said we would go see him between 10-12 tomorrow. It's the day he cleans his beer lines. Later, phoned Dad who says he will join us and he arrived tonight at 9 o'clock. We sat downstairs, nattering. Ally looked enormous and was breathless. It must be a strain. Dad looked older and was wearing some shocking clothes in which Mum wouldn't have allowed him to leave the house. 

Who was the last son of a reigning monarch to go down the aisle to his marriage without a peerage? This is an interesting one.

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