Saturday September 22, 1984

 Moorhouse Inn

Two String to her bow.

Ally went off early to Linfood leaving me to give Samuel breakfast. It was a wet but bright morn and we stood at the window waving goodbye to mummy. I went downstairs. Maureen, wearing her hair curlers, was cleaning and singing 'Unchained Melody'. I gave Samuel breakfast, then lunch, then washed my hair and dried with a hair dryer which was a mistake because afterwards I walked around looking like Countess Spencer. Ally came back at 12:30 in a downpour and had a cheeky grin on her face. She sent me to the car where she said I would find something of interest on the back seat. The sweet pet had bought two old pictures from 'Cheap 'n Cheerful' - 'Two Strings to her Bow' and 'To be or not to be', prints of 1894 paintings by C. Haig Wood. Very splendid. I hung them in the sitting room and showed them to Samuel who seemed to approve. Margaret is in Scotland and so I worked this afternoon with Audrey. The place was dead. Bernie suggested that we should have a collection for old Mrs Edith Mollett, 91, who last came into the Moorhouse in September, 1918. No way. Later I found Bernie sat weeping. Her daughter Anne is pregnant with her second _______. Oh dear. We worked after closing. Ally cleaned until 12:30 and I did the tills. The Sunday cleaner is having her eyes done in St Jimmy's. 

News: The horrid Bishop of Durham says Ian MacGregor should attack the government for not accepting a compromise. Mrs T should de-frock the old bugger. He's an atheist anyway.

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Friday September 21, 1984

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds

Is it the autumn equinox today? Not long ago I could have told you. Bright at times, but drizzle too.  One of our deep fat fryers is on the blink and we are reduced to cooking with one. Audrey casually asked if Karen has left us. Obviously a rhetorical question. Ally has decided to phone Mum and clear the air. She cannot put up with this continuing 'Cold War' any longer. We should all dwell in peace and harmony, &c. I went out at 3:30 to post birthday cards to Lily Glynn and Frank, both celebrating on Sunday. I left Ally and Samuel asleep in an armchair. How snuggled and comfortable they looked. Peas in a pod.

HM The Q has returned from Balmoral.Prince Henry Charles Albert David's birth was registered by the P of Wales today. Harry's NHS number is LSCVT275. The prince gave his occupation as 'prince of the United Kingdom'. I would dispute this. It is a rank, not an occupation. Is my occupation 'Mister of the United Kingdom'? What would the great constitutional expert L.G. Pine say on this subject?

A busy, fun night. The tap room swarmed as never before and looked like the Roxy ballroom by 10:30 with couples clutching each to themselves as though Mr Chernenko had just launched his long expected attack upon us. Jean was dancing with Jimmy, and this thoroughly annoys Vicky. Bernie was in pissed up.

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Thursday September 20, 1984

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds

I am miffed by Mum's attitude yesterday. They thought we were rude and unfriendly on Sunday 9th (September), disappointed that we didn't create a sumptuous dinner as we usually do. We thought a take-away would make a nice change. Obviously, this was not so. 

Peerage news: arrivals - a son for Lady Fairfax of Cameron and a daughter for Countess Alexander of Tunis.__ Departures: Lord Clitheroe, KCVO. His daughter is the Hon Lady Worsley, of Hovingham.

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Wednesday September 19, 1984

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds

I gave Sammy his bottle of milk. Ally was gnashing her teeth beneath the quilt. By 8am she was chopping 15lb of raw meat and was stood in the kitchen pale, spattered with blood, like the Laitner murderer. Felt queasy watching this from over my porridge. At 9 Mum and Dad walked in at the same time as Maureen. __________. They had taken Sue to St Jimmy's with Ben where they determined that the boy has a tiny hole in his heart. But nothing serious. Sue, Dad and Ben came back here after the hospital visit and we had a drink in the bar. MM and Marita came in and we all had lunch together. The conversation drifted from Yugoslavia to childbirth. Samuel sat wide-eyed watching Christopher assaulting his baby brother. The lad does have Yorkshire miner-like tendencies. They all left at 4. ___________. Donna Lea appeared at 8. She is under 30 and Ally thinks she is very much a Graham Smith type. You know the sort - university, Monty Python whoopie cushion, showjumping, beagle, Liebraumilch type. Easy going. Saw 'Minder' after plying Donna with lager upstairs. Bed after 11. Didn't go down.

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Tuesday September 18, 1984

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds

Ally is impossible at times. She bangs around and carries on like one of those maniacal, black African generals after a successful coup d'etat. Samuel and I sat wide-eyed over breakfast listening to her rumblings. Dray day. X-L crisps, &c. I was utterly done in so much so that at 5:30 Ally went below to do the first bash and no doubt let off steam and vitriol on the OAPs in the tap room. I went down at 8 and tried to phone Horton. No reply. Rob (Piper) came in with Brenda Longbottom's husband again. He cannot understand why I do not have any little 'fiddles' on the go. He says that on my barrelage I should be making £30 a week for myself. I really do not want to be sacked. It just isn't my style. They sold me a watch for £1.50. A large black, rubber Jacques Cousteau digital time piece. What a fool I am.

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Monday September 17, 1984

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds

As you can see I have discovered a bottle of Quink ink. It cost me 75p. Horribly wet. Samuel woke me at 6 o'clock and I found him upside down in his cot with his head crushed between the bars. He soon brightened on seeing me and I removed his soggy nappy and gave him a bottle of milk in our bed. Ally was refusing to get up. She regretted it later and ran around.  We went to Leeds market and the bank, &c. Bessie phoned on the subject of our forthcoming holiday again. It sounded as though she has been tossing and turning all night long. What a women. Felt exhausted. 

The Daily Telegraph is full of the new prince. I do like Henry. So solid. Will he be christened on the Prince of Wales's birthday (Nov 14)? Godparents? Lord Tollemache? A Parker Bowles? 'Kanga' Tryon? (not a hope), one of the Herberts of Highclere? Harry Herbert even? Sarah Armstrong-Jones?

Ally slept with Samuel this afternoon and I looked in at the devastation in the kitchen and closed the door. I am not very methodical. We all had tea together and watched 'Blue Peter' and then I wernt down to spend the night in my bustling pub. A pool knock-out. Karma Singh won. Big Brian had spent the weekend at Ribblehead. Ally made delicious food for the pool guys - it was much appreciated. to bed at 11:55.

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Sunday September 16, 1984

 13th Sunday after Trinity

Moorhouse Inn, Leeds

I was up at 7am cleaning the deep fat fryer and roasting a chicken for luncheon.

One year ago today we went to the Why Not? Praise be to God for our safe deliverance. Over porridge (again) at breakfast we speculated as to what names the infant prince will be given. You might not believe this but I said that Henry goes very well with William, and I can see the princess (Diana) calling her son "Harry". Ally went down to clean and I entertained Samuel with his toys. I heard on the radio that the Prince of Wales with Prince William had visited St Mary's and that the baby is probably going home this afternoon. The TV reveals that the baby is to be Henry Charles Albert David, but known as 'Harry' to the family. Very pleased. The last royal Henry was HM's uncle, the Duke of Gloucester (1900-74). You cannot beat old names. I really should have placed a bet at William Hills. At 2;25 the royal couple left the Lindo Wing with a white bundle and drove to Kensington Palace. An hour later the prince drove off to play polo. I suppose Di was tucked up in bed.

We had chicken for lunch. ______. Later Bessie phoned and put Ally in a foul mood regarding our holiday plans. They are going to Windermere on Oct 29 for three or four days apparently. Grumpily to bed.

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Saturday September 15, 1984

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds

Sat eating porridge at 7:30am I switched on the radio to hear the news that the Princess of Wales is at the Lindo Wing awaiting the birth of the royal baby. We had no plans for the day and so decided to hold a vigil by the TV. We were in need of a good day of relaxation and these royal landmarks are always such an excuse. News bulletins say the baby is coming 10 days early, as did Prince William. Poppycock. The palace never reveals the due dates of royal babies. We had lunch still discussing the activity at the Lindo Wing. The royals traditionally have a boy then a girl. The Queen did. So did Margaret, Anne, Richard of Gloucester, the Duchess of Kent, Michael of Kent, Alexandra & Angus, &c.

At 5:30 it was announced that the princess had given birth to a son at 4:20pm weighing 6lb 14oz. How splendid. The House of Windsor is now firmly secured in the male line. How reassuring. Sammy Bear did not appreciate these momentous events. Saw the baby leaving hospital at 7pm. Of course people will say they wanted a princess. 

Bessie and Frank have been to Cyprus. Today is Frank's 57th birthday. We watched Grandstand all afternoon. Even the racing results. Today the St Leger was run at Doncaster. It was quiet downstairs. Archie was roaring drunk on Bacardi (again). He was peeved that the infant prince wasn't born in Scotland.

Ally cleaned the place from top to bottom because Annie, the sabbath cleaner, is going into hospital tomorrow for an eye op. 

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Friday September, 14, 1984

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds

Woodbine Lizzie.

Hungover again. I was horrible but Ally was quite composed and up and counting money reasonably early. People came in gloating at the 'failure' of our fancy dress evening but we certainly do not consider it to have been a failure and fully intend throwing another such extravaganza in the coming weeks. At 10:30 last night Karen stepped out of line with Ally and walked out in the following rumpus. Good riddance. It was a comical sight because Ally, clad in her hideous gear, looked just like 'Woodbine Lizzie' the renowned eccentric Leeds character. Alison Rhodes is not to be crossed. and Karen Pratt did it once too often. The staff tonight were subdued. Sometimes one needs a good sacking to keep them all to heel. Dave the Grave denies theft and went away red faced.

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Thursday September 13, 1984

Edna at the bar.

with Marlene and Frank

Jayne and Janette

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds

Our Tramps Convention fancy dress party. A busy bustling day. We went out late this afternoon to a Spastics Society charity shop on Boar Lane and bought Ally a revolting shimmering green dress for £1. She is going to be a particularly well-heeled tramp. We had Sammy Bear tucked up in bed for 5:30 and I dressed in vagrants gear and went down to amuse Maureen and the trio in the tap room.

Tramps: with George and John.

    We stood around sipping Blue Bols and lemonade waiting for more tramps, but they proved very scarce. Edna and Tracey looked splendid but nobody else suitably garbed appeared until John, Janette, George and Jayne, Jacq and her latest boyfriend Philip came in wearing old overcoats spattered with driend mud. Howls of laughter, &c. MM and Marita came too - but dressed up to the nines, fresh back from Yugoslavia. We awarded the first prize to Edna, but sadly Dave the Grave ripped us off and disappeared with the raffle money, or at least £5 of it. He is another one who will have to go. Marlene and Frank came in covered in dirt and stick on boils. We sold fish and chips in newspaper. They didn't go down well and we only four people bought them - miserable bastards. A late night followed. No customers. Just family and the Waites and a volatile couple who kept slapping each other like frenzied animals. MM and Marita looked on aghast. It was good to see Jacq with a young man. Later on he too was walking around in a state of undress and the general state of everyone can only be described as debauched. John had a greasy head of hair and in his old overcoat he resembled Clark Gable or Gary Cooper from some '30s movie. The party fell apart at 2am when George went into a coma. John was, of course, driving. We are told the Waites are contemplating divorce.

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Wednesday September 12, 1984

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds

The new secretary of state for Ulster (sic) is poor Douglas Hurd. What can she (Thatcher) have against this little Foreign Office mandarin? A new appointment is David Young who becomes minister without portfolio, a privy counsellor and a life peer. He is to get the unemployed back to work - poor bugger. He doesn't stand a cat in hell's chance. The Earl of Gowrie becomes chancellor of the Duchy of Lancaster. I think that this government has more peers in its make up than any other government since before the Great War. I do admire Mrs T. The pathetic SDP are meeting at Buxton - and oh God you should hear them droning on. A bloody pantomime. They are on the fast train to oblivion. Nobody takes them seriously or sees them as a threat. As for Dr David Owen - Ugh!

Lord Geoffrey-Lloyd is dead. A peculiar obit in the Daily Telegraph says: "he never married but he had for many years, a close entirely platonic friendship with Leeds Castle." You couldn't have much else with an ancient monument, could you?

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