Saturday December 15, 1984

 Moorhouse Inn

Fog. To Bradford where we collected books to take to Mum in Airedale Hosp. (She phoned this morning to say the gall bladder op is fixed for Monday or Wednesday, and we told her we'd visit this afternoon. She asked Ally to buy her a nightie, en route). We arrived at 2pm and Mum was waiting for us at a large window and stood waving down. God Bless her. She is in a tiny little room, with a colour TV, loo, and personal consultant on stand by. Poor Mum looked thinner, and bright yellow. We stayed for almost two hours chatting by the bedside. Dad joined us after about 10 minutes and he came in carrying a couple of cream cakes and the newspapers. Mum talked about the poor Bucks Fizz singer lying in a coma, and went with Samuel to look at the hospital Christmas decorations. She and Dad waved us goodbye and we drove away feeling sad. She is such a real brick about it all. To Lynn's where we argued about visiting Mum on Christmas day. They don't seem to think it's a priority. They annoyed us by talking about Pam's fancy dress party set for tonight and how drunk they will all be. _________. Dad came to Guiseley at 10 and immediately worried me by saying that the surgeon is now saying that the problem is not just gall stones and that a recent x-ray reveals 'something else'. He talked about Mildred Werrett, who was yellow before she died of cancer in 1978, and he sat giving us long and soulful looks. Oh God. Mum is seriously ill, I think. To bed late. I cried myself into oblivion. Very fearful.

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Friday December 14, 1984

 Moorhouse Inn

Uncle Tony's birthday. King George VI's birthday. Mikhail Gorbachev is visiting Britain, &c. I cannot write much. Pie and Pea evening. A dead one. Samuel was awake when we wanted to go to bed. Recently we've been too tired to deal with him in the middle of the night and he's been ending up in the middle of the bed with us. We are going to see Mum if not tomorrow then Sunday. She seems exceptionally cheerful and one would think she was speaking from Waltergarth. Sadly, she says she'll be in hospital for Christmas and therefor cannot be festive here. Mr Hall says the gall bladder will have to go next week.

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Thursday December 13, 1984

 Moorhouse Inn

Sam doesn't sleep as easily as he used to and our days, and nights of tranquillity are surely numbered. We have another 'Christopher' on our hands.  Cousin Sam appeared and he showed me a letter from Uncle H. He'll be here on December 22 before flying off to spend Yuletide in Majorca. I have instructions to inform Papa of this information, but I do not think he will act on it.

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Wednesday December 12, 1984

Moorhouse Inn

Mum goes to hospital. Susan phoned  and gave us Mum's private extension phone number and when Ally and I went down at 8 we phoned and found her cheerful and bubbly. Picking up her phone she said: 'Good evening. The Hilton Hotel.' She says she is in a nice little room with a colour TV, and on a quiet ward. This puts our minds at rest. I couldn't stand the thought of her wailing down the phone. She places much confidence in Dr Hall, the consultant. She finds him likeable though I suspect he's quite used to buttering up to middle-aged ladies in hospital beds. 

Rob Piper appeared. He had heard that Ally had been violently sick outside the Brown Hare after the works 'do'. We put him straight. Had a few drinks. Taff and Carol were in after their daughter's funeral. What a peculiar little Welshman he is. Afterwards Ally and I sat by the Christmas tree slurping those sticky little drinks one associates with Christmas. Late to bed.

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Tuesday December 11, 1984

 Moorhouse Inn

We have two Christmas trees. A small rooted one in the downstairs lounge (from Club St) and a large six footer upstairs which took me hours of labouring to erect. Samuel isn't too bothered by it, and is probably too young to appreciate it. The balls are very much a temptation though for him. 

Lunchtimes are dead. All staying home saving for next week's festivities, eh? 

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Monday December 10, 1984

 Moorhouse Inn

Mum saw the Mr Hall, the surgeon, at Keighley at 10am and phoned later to say that she has to go into Airedale (hospital) for tests on Wednesday and may be in for a week or so. She is going to the private clinic at Airedale. They have been in BUPA or something similar since Dad was a PC. Poor Mum will have to be very brave. She will be fifty next month and has never spent a night in a hospital bed. We were all born on home ground, and her visits to hospitals have been as a visitor only. Don't want to write any more. I do worry about poor Mum. I love her deeply.

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Sunday December 9, 1984

 Moorhouse Inn

2nd Sunday in Advent

We festooned the pub in Yuletide finery with the Harwoods and Auntie Mabel this afternoon. They arrived at about 1pm. Mabel brought Samuel a present for Christmas, whispering that he is the only member of the extended family to be so honoured. Flagrant favouritism is a dominant factor in auntie's character. Mum phoned at 4 to say she has to go to Airedale Hospital tomorrow to see a consultant regarding her gall-bladder bother. This came as something of a shock to Mabel, who had no idea she was even ill. Mum doesn't want a fuss making and is obsessive about hiding her 'yellowness'. Upstairs tied out at 6. Sam was black bright. See the TV. 'Tenko' &c.

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Saturday December 8, 1984

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds

Full Moon

Ally cleaned furiously because Lynn has promised to come here today and she cannot be expected to be subjected to the sight of our porridge-spattered lounge. Samuel is very much into modern art. His favourite medium is breakfast cereal which he arranges beautifully on carpets and soft furnishings. I began the day with a bad head, but don't know why. Decorators came to size up the place. Honeysuckle ceilings and rose-red walls, &c. Anything will be better than the present miserable grime. Ally took Samuel to the shops and he came back with hair all wild like Ken Dodd. Lynn and Dave arrived at 3:10 as the pub closed. The bustled in after spending the afternoon in a furniture warehouse. Lynn hasn't been here since July 22. David played with our malfunctioning Christmas lights and he took me to Morrison's to buy cables to extend our illuminations. _____________. They stayed to tea and left at 6, vaguely saying they will come for a night in January. Lynn told Ally that she doesn't ask Mum anything about her illness because it is too upsetting. Lynn buries her head in the sand. Dead evening. Bernie (McCarron) was pissed.

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Friday December 7, 1984

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds

More bad news today. Michael Pirie's mother, Edith, dropped dead last night after returning from Aberdeen. Once again the pub is plunged into morbid reflection. This does nothing for our pie and pea sales. The Piries are returning to lodge with Audrey. Needless to say, the Egans were in sipping brandy and discussing the futility of life, &c. Ally took a call from a wailing female in Chapel Allerton Hospital announcing that 'Old Gentleman David', a regular and a pain, is also on his last legs. It is too much. I will have to quickly erect the Christmas tree to cheer everyone up.

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Thursday December 6, 1984

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds

Sunshine. We have a new nephew, folks. Graham phoned at lunchtime to say Gill had a baby boy weighing 5lb 13oz at 5:21am today. He is to be Simon Something Something Dixon. We went to celebrate in our lifeless lounge and sat with Sammy having a drink for an hour. Archie came in and introduced our sons to the evils of gaming machines. To Club Street at 3 to collect last year's Christmas tree from the garden. We told Samuel that it's a flower and he sat pointing at it making an 'f' sound. Phoned Mum from Bradford . The doctor says her gall bladder is no longer functioning and it will have to be removed. She is such a coward and is quaking at the thought of hospital. She is to see a surgeon at Keighley on Monday. Sue says they've received a (Christmas) card from John & Sheila with a note saying they'll be in the UK from Jan 3 to Jan 24. This means they'll miss seeing us for our first week on the island, and with some feelings of trepidation I took up the phone and spoke to Sheila. She says it's a hot, balmy day in Lanzarote. She said we'll be well looked after and they see us on the 24th. John was his usual buoyant self. Later, John and Janette called in. She looked tired and ill and they left to go shopping at 9:30pm. They saw Sam Snr.

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Wednesday December 5, 1984

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds

Cold. Jim Littlewood came in at 11 and said that Carol and Taffy's daughter, Samantha, died at 6:30am.The infant's first birthday was on November 29 and she has gone through a year of pain and seemed to be getting so much better recently. The pub took on the atmosphere of the Roya Mausoleum, Frogmore. The whole of Carol's family were in and heavily drinking. Young Frank Millar was violently sick and sat sobbing, and later Madge stood banging her head against the flashing fruit machine questioning the sanity of God for allowing little Samantha to be taken. 

Audrey tonight. Dave G phoned at 11:20pm when we were cleaning the lines. He's excited about Lanzarote. Six weeks tomorrow. The Hollywood now bangs away to discos and heavy metal gigs. Old Jim (Glynn) would be proud.

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