Tuesday January 7, 1986

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds, LS11 5NQ

A 7am start again. What long days we have. Samuel is still raving about 'Agadoo', dancing with Lucy the dolly and his Teddy. We are being driven slowly insane. We went up Dewsbury Road together and collected his £28 family allowance lolly which we later went out and spent on a grey velvet suit with knee length trousers and bow tie. Wearing it he looks edible. For his birthday party of course. Grey shoes to match. Even at his tender age he is aware he is wearing something new and stands so proud. Young Liz worked PM. Stone dead. I stayed below to keep an eye on her but drifted off for a cup of tea only to fly back down in horrific haste because I had left THIS volume on a shelf behind the bar and visions of her prying into my innermost recesses. I often compile this journal as I stand behind the bar on quiet, long, wintry evenings. Leaning against a dormant beer pump shrouded in cobwebs and layers of dust --- the place echoing with long forgotten ghost-like voices of customers asking 'pint of bitter, Guv'ner'. Politics tonight. Old Harold says that Britiain will become the 51st US state, and that Mrs T is a 'dictator'. Harold Wilson, he says, was a 'Spiv'.

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Monday January 6, 1986

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds, LS11 5NQ

Epiphany

Gone but no forgotten: Lord Derwent, CBE; Lord David Cecil, CH; Dustin Gee; Phil Lynott ....

Forgotten but not gone: Pearl Carr and Teddy Johnson, Judith Chalmers, Lord Lucan.

The feast of the Epiphany, &c. Dawn start. 7am. Very dark. Gave Ally and egg, and Sam a crumpet and then to Leeds Market at 8 to buy pies and cheap cuts of meat. Came away with bags of fatty, pink flesh which made Ally bilious. We saw Marjorie Murphy, a plain, slow little woman to be sure. Back at the pub I had three customers this afternoon. Thirty three and a third of them were ex-Gestapo. Things are going to have to change. I told Audrey that our staff hours are going to have to be cut next week. Se sneered and said that they were always the same until we came on the scene. _________. Steamed fish for dinner. Played with Samuel at building brick towers and then demolishing them. He is such a good talker. He loves the stereo and danced, clutching his Teddy, to 'Agadoo' by Black Lace. Phoned Dad at 7. He phoned his sister Dorothy last night and after the wedding he is going on to Blackpool for the night. He has spent today brewing (ale) and ironing. _____. A dead night. Margaret worked. Later watched a tv documentary on Terence Conran. Very good. What an enterprising old stick.

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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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Wednesday January 1, 1986

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

New Years Day - Bank Holiday in the UK

The Moorhouse Inn.

Awful morning. Ally disgusted at my drunken arrival to bed in the early hours took off  and slept in Samuel's room. Morning came and we were both in bed with Samuel pleading with us to get up, plodding between the bedrooms. I ventured out and staggered around making breakfast. Ally had scrambled eggs in bed. I opened up at 11 with bloodshot eyes and my hair standing on end. Busy lunch. The place went mad with revellers topping up from last night. The argument in the tap room about 'Gone With the Wind' versus the racing went on, and an old man called Tom sloshed a pint over old George. Scuffles followed. No blood. Tom was ejected with his coat in shreds. A festive start to the year. Phoned Dad again. Ally slightly peeved that no family have phoned us with good wishes. Quiet night. Chris worked again. He has been something of a god send this Christmas.

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Tuesday December 31, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

Bernie McCarron.

Ally opened up and so we got into town early where Ally found a woollen mohair dress, green and red, for £45 and a red handbag and shoes. 'Gone With the Wind' this afternoon. What an exceedingly long and silly film full of people overacting. Vivien Leigh really should be thoroughly ashamed of herself. Is she still with us? Old men in the tap room squabbled over the telly. Racing from Newbury, they decide, is more important than Scarlet O'Hara. I tend to agree. Not a busy night. Chris worked. I hit the Diet Pils and the hour of merriment and ringing of bells is now lost in a fuzzy wuzzy Auld Lang Syne, &c. I did run upstairs minutes after midnight to kiss my wailing Piglet. My eyes were similarly wet. The coming of the New Year can be an emotional moment and this one is particularly jerking. What an evil year '85 was. Perhaps we will breathe better in '86.Perhaps we will be able to lead a life again without black shadows. 'Time is a great healer'. The man who said that should be shot.  No, castrated. Chris stayed in the bar until 2am with Bernie and Frank McCarron. Quiet. Phoned Dad at 1am. He was distant and no doubt Horton-in-Ribblesdale was awash with tears. I don't remember any of the conversation.

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Monday December 30, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

Dear Brown.

Quiet day. Michael Brown came again today with another journalist whose name escapes me, who works in Aldershot at the moment, but plans to write news bulletins for radio. Michael told me he is now banned from drinking with his father after their last, long drinking session here. Old Mrs B was livid. They left here that Saturday afternoon at 4:30 in pouring rain, and both stood urinating in a bus stop on Dewsbury Road to be verbally abused by a passing clergyman's wife. Harold Brown arrived home, wringing wet, saying he was 'poorly'. "Pissed, more like" exclaimed the irate and quick tempered Mrs B. 

To town at 4 but forgot to take the trousers back. We had bought Dad a pair with a 36 inch waist when he needs 38ins. Bought Dad a diary for his 1986 bookings. Ally too tired and the place was too busy.

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Sunday December 29, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

1st Sunday after Christmas

We ate roast beef which was too rare and oozing with blood - no good for Ally at all. Watched Erroll Flynn in 'Robin Hood' again. Played with Samuel. My Uncle Albert died at 2:30am on this day in 1969.

Tonight. Quiet. But who should appear but Richard and Debbie with Philip Middlebrough. You know, they used to be Richard and Eileen, who hosted the 'Pink Eagle' party in November 1979.Whatever happened to poor Eileen? They were talking as though I was a youngster, and thought I was only 25 which cheered me greatly. Debbie is an Aries too - April 4. She seemed to warm to my star sign. Ally disappointed at feeling too poorly to come down.

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Saturday December 28, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds, LS11 5NQ

A fancy dress evening in which I did not participate. Not a good turn-out. A few elves, pixies, a Cinderella and a Prince Charming. I raffled the hideous garden gnome that some wag had presented to me, and it was won by Terry and Doreen. They fell out with the Gestapo whilst holidaying with them in the summer. By Gestapo of course I mean Werner and Hildegarde, our Teutonic lounge customers. They all expected 'afters' but got none. We are having no 'stoppybacks' when Ally is feeling so ill.

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Friday December 27, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

Peter & Hilda.

A bloody kindergarten this place is. Sue is a slave to her children and they were up at dawn running rings around her. Pete was laid, legs akimbo, beneath his duvet. Samuel delights in other children and plays excellently. Roll on July. Dad took the Nasons back to Guiseley at 11. We were left alone. What a tremendous help Dad has been this week. He is such a good, brave man. Hilda looked sad yesterday watching all the children play. I know what she was thinking. ___________. We collapsed this afternoon. Three hours of 'Ben Hur'. Charlton Heston won the chariot race, yet again. Seafood pancakes. Chris Mawson worked PM. I put on sandwiches and things for Cliff, who was 70 yesterday.

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Thursday December 26, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

Ally and Samuel.

Boxing Day. A family party. Ally feverishly cutting up left-over turkey and pork pies. I opened up. Dad drove over to Guiseley for Sue. Hilda and Tony came at 11:30. She has had a new car for Christmas. A Fiat tied up with a bow outside No. 6 St. James's Crescent. Dad went on and on about Colonel Gadaffi owning Fiat. It was news to me. But then I have become a 'news no go' area since quitting the YP. At one time I would have known instantly just who was chairman of the CBI, and prime minister of Iraq, but now it's all awash. The Bakers came for a few hours. Lynn and Hilda are not on the same wavelength as we are. John and Janette didn't come until about 7pm. Janette was slightly 'off-ish' and announced that they would not be staying the night. I was news to John. ______. Ally, not feeling too good, stayed upstairs. Sue was fun. She continues to have nightmares about her baby, and debates the name he'll be given. A daughter is to be Samantha. Peter was great fun. He mixed cocktails. It was a late night but not one of over-intoxication. Jayne Waite phoned asking Janette and John to go back to Menston to finish the night. ______.

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Wednesday December 25, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

Dad in his tatty pyjamas, and Sam.

Christmas Day. Oh, what memories. We woke at 8, and lay abed with cups of tea. Dad joined us in his tatty pyjamas. Down to open Samuel's presents. It was the start of a magical day for him. He was as good as gold throughout. He found a large Postman Pat car from Winchester, and we gave him a wooden tool kit with a hammer, pegs and spanners, &c. Dad put the turkey in the oven. A 15lb thing. We opened between 11am and 1pm. The usual faces. We took £140. Audrey worked and I relaxed my 'no staff drinks' ban. Large whiskies abounded. It was all a very pleasant atmosphere though. Will Christmas mean anything at all to me when I'm old and grey? I think we should love the magic of Christmas even when one has experienced it seventy or eighty times and not be cynical about it. We closed at 1 and went upstairs. A long, happy lunch with Ally, Dad and Samuel. The TV only went on at 3pm for The Queen. This year we saw no scenes of family life at Windsor with the royal kiddies, which was sad. But HM knows what she is doing, no doubt. We lounged and played. I hung Ally's amethyst earrings in a cracker on the tree and she didn't discover the gift until later. We put on records and danced to Wham and Boy George. Dad washed up. Sam to bed. TV at night. No tears or overwhelming sadness. Mum wouldn't have wanted that.

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Tuesday December 24, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

Ally very poorly. Vomit, pains, &c. When Samuel went down at noon she went too. I was alone making seafood pancakes. Dad was late. He didn't get here until 6pm. Sue had been having a soirée at Thorpe Lane. Dad looked tired. Chris here tonight. Worked like stink. Not over festive. Dad went to the Station (pub) for gas. Upstairs for 12:30am. Had a large stiff drink by the large stiff Christmas tree. 

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Monday December 23, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

Busy. Stocktake. Good old Ronnie came. He gave us a £140 surplus. I do not like surpluses. The next one will be £140 down. Baked mince pies and played Christmas carols on the stereo. Samuel thinks carols are dull, and says so. He prefers Feargal Sharkey. LG appeared with a calendar for '86 and a smile. I told him of Ally's condition and off he went giggling saying "it's nice to get them all over with early". Little does he know that this is only the beginning. He didn't want to discuss figures or be gloomy at this time of festive rejoicing. Silly prat. We rushed into town at 3:30 and the place was mad. Ally was feeling bad and couldn't buy anything but I went to Dyson's and Denton's and bought a pair of amethyst earrings for £65 and a bottle of Diorissimo for £15. I do love pig so very much. She looked faint. Samuel didn't like the experience of a packed Leeds Market. Laura Ashley was stripped of contents - panic buying. We should buy shares.

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Sunday December 22, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

4th Sunday in Advent

Crisp & cold. A pink and yellow sky as JPW Turner would have splodged, or was he JWP or JPM? We went over to Guiseley at 3 and sat in Harry Ramsden's carpark eating chips. Sam enjoyed the adventure. Then, to the cemetery to see poor Mum with some carnations and Chinese orchids. It was biting cold and I had no coat. Stood mutely looking at the slab of stone. Lynn had been before us with some unopened daffodils. On to John and Janette's for whisky, and a nurse of Charlotte. JPH and Catherine were there watching 'Ghostbusters'. JPH wearing a gold chain. __________. On to Lynn's. The scrubbed kids were watching a Dickens serial. Lynn called it "Twist". ______. Liz phoned in sick at 6:50pm, and Chris, an angel Gabriel to be sure, worked instead at a moments notice.

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Saturday December 21, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

Shortest Day

Dear Brown.

A juvenile bastard smashed a window in the tap room last night at 12 as we were locking up. Not a customer of course. Dad went home. It's always sad to see him go. Samuel watched from an upstairs window and sobbed. Michael Brown and his father, old Harold, appeared at 1pm and remained until 4:30 or so. We argued about religion. Old Harold claims to be an atheist and he became very heated when Michael spoke of Christ and 'God incarnate' &c. Harold taunted his son. "Do the 12 million turkeys slaughtered this Christmas have souls too?" "No. Only humans go to heaven" explained Michael. "Well", said Harold, "heaven must be an awful place for a) St Francis of Assisi, b) Barbara Woodhouse,  and c) the Birdman of Alcatraz". Old Mrs Brown phoned and was fuming. They had spent too long here. I took Samuel down to see them. I do like Brown. Such a fun person.

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Friday December 20, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

Do Christmas dinners. Pathetic really. We give food away. Later, hung pictures. Quiet tonight. Dad and I sat in the pub lounge by the Christmas tree, joined by a bespectacled Punjabi grandfather who asked me if he could possible hold a family party here with curry and Punjabi music. I readily said yes and giggled. Imagine Albert Taylor's face.

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Thursday December 19, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

Uncle Peter appeared this afternoon with a pile of Christmas cards for the family.

We had a Christmas fuddle. We surprised Dad at 3:30 and took him to Da Mario's on the Headrow for a spot of Italian fayre. Panzerotto. Samuel was an angel and looked a little dot with his head peeping over the top of the round marble table. He ate minestrone soup, a lasagne, and an enormous multi-coloured ice-cream topped with a sparkler. He was so proud. We returned home at 5:30, very bloated. Maureen opened up at 5:30. Ally went to see Dr Sykes. ________. He tried to book her into the Clarendon Wing for the birth, but she refused. He was good with her but thinks she is an awkward customer. Why can't she be bloody awkward? Too many people around here are led these days like paraplegic sheep.

John, Janette and Peter Mather came and stayed for an hour after closing. They argued about love and marriage and John would not be drawn on the subject of a 1986 wedding despite Janette's constant reference to it. Only when I told them it would be quite improper for me to be his best man for the second time did John comment. He was emphatic. "Oh yes, you are going to be my best man". Dad burst into a smile. John had committed himself to matrimony. They left at 12 leaving Dad and I puzzling. Janette was unhappy at my coolness and at my criticism of March 14 for the wedding. She exclaimed that she had no idea that John's previous walk down the aisle had taken place on March 13.

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