Moorhouse Inn, Moor Cres, Leeds
Wet. Rose at 6:44. Phoned the brewery with a Yuletide spirit order and pondered over it a great deal. Samuel was in a vicious temper all day, screaming like a little Maria Callas. I blame his teeth, but Ally says it's just naughtiness. (A first top tooth appeared on Nov 14 and since then it has been joined by another, and the two front bottom teeth are ready. The only news Audrey has for us after three weeks is the death of Peter, her 14 year-old budgerigar. My cousin Sam appeared tonight with short cropped hair, no beard, and tells me he has enrolled at the (Leeds) Polytechnic to do 'A' level mathematics. He is a humorous, yet lonely lad. I didn't see him leave, and feel quite sad about it. We were busy. It's odd having a relation as a regular customer. Am I expected to entertain him every night? I gave him a couple of pints anyway. _______. Jane Fletcher phoned from the brewery to ask if we are going to the dinner dance. We told her yes. Phoned Mum. She was out. She then phoned me later to say she is having an X-ray on her gall bladder at 10:30 on Monday Nov 26 at Skipton, but she isn't seeing her doctor again until Dec 6. She is going to have to be brave if an operation is called for. You know how squeamish she is. She really should take a leaf out of Sue's book. God bless her anyway. Upstairs for 11:10. Ally was counting the money until 11:52. Sandwiches in bed.
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