Saturday April 5, 1986

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

Today I am 31. Ally, God bless her, made it a special day with her munificence. Samuel came in early singing 'happy birthday to you' and the three of us sat in bed opening cards and presents. Ally bought me two shirts from 'Paris', at Rawdon. Exquisite. A tie rack, and a beautiful tie with a miniature elephant reclining. Two books. "Claudius the God" by Graves and "Les Misérables" by Victor Hugo. Thorntons chocolates. Breakfast in bed. The girls and Dad all phoned before 9am. It was touching to hear Dad. Lunch. Drink downstairs. Ally and Sam to bed. I had a lager with Margaret and Audrey and they formed a plot and gave me a 'German special' one of the concoctions favoured by our Gestapo clientele. I was slightly 'tight' by 4pm. Upstairs we had rump steak, sauteed mushrooms, white wine, &c. We then lay upon cushions on the floor like Roman patricians. I failed to win the pub 'flutter' on the Grand National. Chris phoned to say he cannot work tonight and so I axed him from my front bench team. Ally very beautifully said she would do his shift. Janette phoned to say they are coming. We went down at 7 and sat sozzled in a corner. We were joined by Uncle Peter, Auntie Jean, John, Janette, George W and Jayne. A quiet night really. You have to be reasonably quiet at 31. Bed at 12:30. No high jinx. No stoppybacks. No 21 gun salute.

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Friday April 4, 1986

 Moorhouse Inn Leeds LS11 5NQ

Uncle Peter is 57 today. We haven't seen him since Christmas. One of my customers makes me feel like vomiting. Joan Shelton, 58, has just been savaging the poor prime minister. "I was never out of work until she got in". And there she is (Joan) supping gallons of mild every week and living a life of Riley. She expects something for nothing. Bloody parasite. Ally went to bed early and I went down to the bar for social intercourse. A drunk, tippling whisky in the tap room, upset me at 11:30 and I physically ejected him midst the breaking of glass and furniture. My remaining customers filed out in an orderly fashion. I went to bed covered in blood and sweat.

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Thursday April 3, 1986

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

Ally to Dr Duck at 9:50. ________. Believe it or not Ally has yet to be confirmed as being definitely booked in to the BRI for baby's birth. St Luke's is the designated place and whenever Ally brings up the topic with Dr Duck she says "Oh don't worry. We'll have you at the BRI. It's where you went last time." It will mean war if we are thwarted this time. A home birth in fact. Ally has a wicked look on her face. She and Samuel are in collusion over my birthday presents, and by the look of things my wife has gone mad on the plastic again. On Saturday morning all will be revealed.

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Wednesday April 2, 1986

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

Lynn and the children came over this afternoon for high jinx and high tea. Ally laid on an old fashioned nursery spread and the little ones greatly appreciated it. Katie had never seen a doughnut before and sat wide eyed but refusing to touch one. Samuel was covered in jam. Little Thomas moves around like a badger and refuses to walk. David came and picked them up at 6. Lynn made a comment about the Moorhouse: "It's a typical town pub". Snobby somewhat. She perhaps should visit some of the pubs in town.

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Tuesday April 1, 1986

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

We went over to Bradford this morning to meet Sue and Pete at Club Street where Peter installed a new kitchen sink and did the plumbing. I am very pleased with him really. Susan isn't the enormous mountain as in previous pregnancies and I pray she has a daughter. Surely not another uproarious boy? The children played well together considering the confined space. Ally went to the fish and chip shop and queued for almost an hour and returned with cold and greasy fayre. I do worry about all this work I am making for myself at Club St. It's two rooms stripped bare now and in six or seven weeks I am expected to have finished the lot. Oh dear. 

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Monday March 31, 1986

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

Bank Holiday in the UK (except Scotland)

Ally in a mood because she feels bilious and bloated and out of sorts and lay in bed with Samuel until the afternoon. Jill phoned to say they would be here at 4, but didn't arrive until 5 and so we missed out on food. I was just about to tuck into a turkey leg when they appeared. ________. They left when I opened up at 7 o'clock. A quiet night. Chris worked, or perhaps I should say he showed his face. We had an extension until 11:30 but shouldn't have bothered taking it. People go away to caravans at Morecambe and such places at Easter - for some reason.

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Sunday March 30, 1986

Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

Easter Day

We roasted a turkey for Easter Day Sunday lunch. A lot of hard work and sweat for nothing. Ally didn't appreciate the big lunch, and the washing up went on and on. Samuel liked the candle on the table. Bessie and Frank phoned in the middle of the lunch and I sat eating alone for ages. Played on the floor with Samuel afterwards. We played at beds. I had to lay on the floor on a cushion sucking my thumb and play the baby. I am actually a baby. Frenzied night. Just Liz and I working. She shapes like a 'wet hen' as they say in Colne.

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Saturday March 29, 1986

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

My life is probably at its lowest ebb. Utter dejection and misery. Depression has set in and everything seems bloody futile. Easter Saturday. Just Ally and I tonight. No festivities. Someone asked me why we've given the annual 'Easter Bonnet Parade' a miss. Stuff Easter altogether.

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Friday March 28, 1986

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

Good Friday. The 50th birthday of Auntie Hilda, who has gone off to Norfolk to see Ruby & Arthur for Easter. Poor H. She has now caught up with Mum. Mum will be forever 50, forever young, whilst we all grow steadily more older and more legless. Sunday hours in the pub today. Which came first? The Crucifixion, or Sunday hours in pubs on Good Friday? Did the pubs close early for the spectacle in Calgary perhaps? I won't be going up to Heaven, if I pursue this. Last Good Friday we were at Club St with poor Mum. It's all something of a blur now. Walking out to the bakery for hot cross buns. Dad's sad face. Mum's despair &c. Dad is now back at Horton taking in guests and cooking breakfasts and evening meals. Making beds, &c. Wouldn't Mum be proud of him?

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Thursday March 27, 1986

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

An awful day. Ally was in such a mood  and threatened to retire into private life at Club Street which sent me into paroxysms of remorse and self-loathing. What a puking beast I really am. So bloody childish, &c. Everyone else looked so sober whilst I grovelled around in a red-eyed stupor. "Michael. You are almost 31 for God's Sake." Alcohol has always got the better of me. The Royal Wedding is to be at Westminster Abbey on Wednesday July 23, at 11:30am. This shatters any ideas we have of a 'street party' and revelries here because we should, God permitting, be at Bradford with our baby George/Clemmie. Who knows though? No doubt the bride will be attended by half-brother Andrew and half-sister Alice, and not forgetting Prince William of Wales. It seems I wasn't the only casualty last night. Alan was dreadfully sick in a Leeds street after exiting Hollywood Days/Nights. That pub has such a silly name.

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Wednesday March 26, 1986

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

I have a minor attack of the runs. Not to worry. It's the quiz thing at Hollywood Days & Nights. I went down with Alan and Jennie in the pouring rain leaving Ally upstairs and in bed. I promised not to over do things and to return home before dawn with my faculties intact. Obviously, promises I cannot seem to keep. In town we found Karma, his friend, and Geoff, Phyllis, Terry, Doreen, Garry Rhodes, &c. George Bailey, of Hollywood Days was in his team which is annoying because LG said I couldn't be in mine. We lost, but by ony two or three points. Had I been playing we would have won. Daft questions such as 'to whom was Lauren Bacall married?' 'What is Margaret Thatcher's maiden name?' All silly, easy answers. Stayed on afterwards with George and his dreadfully common mistress, who replaced Debbie, who has left him. They want to stay on and keep the licence but he is now in contravention of his contract of employment. The regulars are talking of sending a petition to the brewery, but it will be quite wrong and futile. Home very drunk at God knows what time. Rendered speechless in the taxi. Lay in bed with the room furiously revolving. Ally quite annoyed.

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Tuesday March 25, 1986

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds, LS11 5NQ

This bloody problem with the car door is annoying. Appleyard's valued the the damage for insurance purposes at £100 but Frank says it isn't worth losing our no claims bonus and so Ally took the car around the corner to a little man with glasses and prodigious memory who said "Hello, Mrs Rhodes" - and he hadn't seen her since the Metro was bumped (June '85). The little man put the damage at £35 and the car is booked in for treatment on April 8-9. Sarah Collis phoned me last Friday. I didn't have room to say anything then. Bright and bubbly as usual. She had missed my TV appearance and was chatty and said she was hoping to come see us with Delia. Pigs might fly. We haven't seen Sarah for 2 years.

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Monday March 24, 1986

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds, LS11 5NQ

Queen Mary.

Snow and ice today. Up at 7 today when Samuel came in for his dawn cuddle and rounds of toast. I opened the mail but had no cheque for my Fergie contributions to the YP. Jill Parkin has returned my my 1981 Di(ana) family tree, but not my latest creation. We went to Morrisons and then Ally collapsed for the remainder of the day looking pale and complaining of heart burn and tiredness. Lately we have had a wild, non-stop time. Downstairs now I am a TV celebrity with the customers going on about genealogy instead of discussing the barmaids tits. We've gone all cultural. Someone said I am a budding' genealogist. Bloody Hell, I flowered years ago. It is reported that the royal wedding will probably be on August 6. The Duke of Edinburgh has cancelled a factory visit citing a state occasion. Jack Collett asked who was Mary of Teck. Coincidentally she died on this day in 1953, aged 85, the widow of King George V and grandmother of the Queen. She was born at Kensington Palace the daughter of Princess Mary Adelaide of Cambridge (a granddaughter of George III) and was as English as I am. The Duke of Teck, Mary's father of course, was a satellite of the Royal House of Wurttemberg.

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Sunday March 23, 1986

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds, LS11 5NQ

Palm Sunday

Up early, reasonably fit. Cannot understand the general sober condition of us all last night. Lynn was perhaps the most intoxicated - stealing the 'Constance Spry' flower arrangements as she did later on. Dad was quiet with an air of urgency about him. He left at 10 for Horton to receive his guests, saying he may miss the christening if he takes bookings. Very peculiar, but there you are. Lynn and Dave came to collect Thomas, who has been as good as gold, giving Samuel odd looks when he threw a wobbler over his scrambled eggs. We showed them our wedding video (which they had never seen before) and Lynn got upset seeing Mum boldly marching around Esholt churchyard. They left at 11. We lunched on roast chicken and watched 'Dallas' and 'The Colby's' when Samuel had his nap. I attempted to look at the Sunday papers. We have been so busy this week and have seen no news, other than Andrew and Fergie, of course. I plan to do a 'tree' for the YP showing all the Dukes of York together. It shouldn't be too complex. Worked tonight with Chris. Uneventful. Bed at 12:30.

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Saturday March 22, 1986

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

Trixie: Tomorrow the World

To the wedding of Jacq and Ian at St James's, Seacroft, and afterwards at the Mercury, Garforth. A dismal, windy day. Ally and I went to town this morning and spent a fortune. More clothes than Jackie Onassis. Lynn and David came here at 2 and we went to the Cricketer's for just one slurp before crossing the green for the service. The vicar made a list of silly announcements of 'do's' and 'don'ts' before performing the ceremony. At the wedding breakfast with sat with Gina & Hugh Dawson (see Journal Apr '78), and Jacq's old Stanmore Drive flatmate who is nameless and who now resides in Belgium. Trixie gave her best 'Joan Collins'  impersonation in black and grey with feathers in the day and shimmering sequins in the evening. She burst into the evening 'do' threw her arms open wide and exclaimed: "Tomorrow, the world". Joy Critoph is a dear thing. Home, sober, at 1am.

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Friday March 21, 1986

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

Dear Joy Critoph came here for lunch with Terry, her boyfriend, and they stayed until after 4 o'clock. She is quite unchanged in the eight or nine years since I last saw her, and still a Sandie Shaw look-alike. Terry is a bearded, bespectacled Londoner. Possibly 35. We were hungover and frantically busy and so Ally didn't go over to collect Samuel from Hilda's until 2pm. She has enjoyed having him, saying he is so well behaved. When we left he called his great-aunt "sweetheart". He came bounding into the pub to meet Joy, and was very shy. Joy is Jacq's bridesmaid tomorrow and her dress she says is 'shocking mauve'. We threaten to giggle in church. Dad came here tonight. In the bar Jack Speight was the victim of a 'coppergram' and was 'arrested' by a naughty, nubile stripper in the guise of a WPC who stripped down to her undies. A jovial evening. Copies of my family tree did the rounds. Much Diet Pils. A hooligan attempted to spoil things, but out he went.

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Thursday March 20, 1986

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

LG phoned to ask how I am coping with fame. Some good publicity after the recent 'piss in the beer' saga of recent weeks. My Andrew/Fergie family tree is in today's YP. I have a love of genealogical tables second to none. High winds. We went to town and on opening the door the wind almost took it off its hinges. A man at Appleyard's garage but the damage at £100. Ally and I were out tonight, separately of course, to Jacq and Ian's bachelor night parties. To the Town Hall Tavern and then the Vic and then Ritzes. Pete Sate is a giggle. I became hopelessly pissed. I got home at 2 and Ally was out until 3. I sat eating scampi and watching myself on the telly. So good for ones ego. Ally came back having done the Crown at Yeadon, Beau Brummells, &c. She says Lynn is very much back on form.

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Wednesday March 19, 1986

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

Bright. Breakfast TV is saturated with Fergie and we sat with bated breath. The YP carries my Sarah Ferguson/New Grange Hall connection and Helen Scott phoned me from the EP followed by Andrew Sheldon from 'Calendar'. I rattled on about Andrew becoming Duke of York on his marriage and he was beside himself with glee and asked me to go across to YTV at 5pm. Fame at last. Ally was just going out at 10:30 when she heard on the car radio of the royal betrothal and she came scampering back in. We videoed everything. The couple were interviewed at Buckingham Palace. They want a summer wedding, and seem besotted. Sarah Margaret Ferguson is a boisterous red-headed freckled type that I would have thought the prince would have steered clear of, but thankfully no. They will, says the court correspondent at the BBC, be known as Prince and Princess Andrew, but the lad will be created Duke of York and Earl of Inverness before the wedding, if you ask me. Since the beginning of February I have been confident of the union, and her lineage is impeccable. She is no shy virgin. The arrival of princes Willian and Henry have made it possible for Prince Andrew to marry Sarah. She wouldn't have done for Charles. She has had two lovers at least, and one old enough to be her father. Ally is ecstatic and she phoned LG to warn of my emerging TV stardom. By taxi to YTV at 5 where I sat in an ante room with the weather forecaster and two tarts. Lashings of coffee, &c. At 5:45 in came Richard Whiteley and we watched the ITN news together. He laughed and ejaculated throughout and obviously has republican sentiments. Cynical ____. We went on air at 6pm and I attempted to keep cool. He said most of the things I wanted to say in his intro leaving me almost high and dry, but in fact I didn't dry up. "Surely we are all related to each other way back" he interjected, unhelpfully. The whole of the news programme was based on my information. They showed old film of the previous Duke and Duchess of York at Fountains Abbey in 1932. At the climax of the programme Whiteley said that as a county we do not do too well for royal connections. I jumped in with the late Princess Royal and Earl of Harewood, and of course the Duchess of Kent. Stardom over. Back to the pub at 8 after and hour in the bar at the YTV with Andrew Sheldon and S. Benedic (?). Taxi home. My TV appearance has been good for publicity. Jack Collett was speechless.

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Tuesday March 18, 1986

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

It was just like old times today. A royal engagement is looming. Mike Brown phoned. It's his day off but he says he has contacted Jill Parkin re Sarah Ferguson's connection to New Grange Hall, Headingley, and sure enough she phoned with breathless fascination. I gave her the details and then later she phoned asking for my family tree showing the prince and Sarah's descent from King James VI & I. Jill is the daughter of ___ Parkin, who was a big noise at the EP and probably still is. The piece will be in the YP tomorrow. I do hope that my brewery connection gets a mention because Sam Smiths have had some very bad publicity in recent days. A gang from the Cambridge at Middlesbrough recently visited the brewery and whilst visiting the fermenting tanks some tattooed yobs pissed in the vat despoiling £7,000 worth of ale. Future brewery visits are now in jeopardy. Even the Daily Mirror picked up on this. "Two Pee On Beer" was the ghastly headline.

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Monday March 17, 1986

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

St Patrick's Day

Bank Holiday in Northern Ireland and the Republic of Ireland

St Patrick's Day. What rubbish. For some reason Bill Gilmore got completely blotto, and he isn't remotely Irish. Maureen has gone into hospital to ger her legs 'done'. You know, varicose veins, &c. Anne (Wilkinson) is covering her with the cleaning here. The old girl dotes on Sam. She was in today and as she was mopping she casually announced that according to Radio Aire Prince Andrew and Sarah Ferguson are getting engaged today. Ally went to the BRI for a scan and she phoned me at 11 to say that we are only expecting one baby, and probably has more fluid than normal. We are not disappointed and expected this result. The silly GP has cocked up the dates. Sent a postcard to Mike Brown re Prince Andrew & SF, mentioning New Grange Hall and the Leeds family connection. Will the YP be interested?

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