Wednesday February 6, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

Charles II

Thirty three years ago today Elizabeth Alexandra Mary ascended the thrones of these islands. May God bless her. 

A ghastly day. Frosty atmosphere all day. Worked with Audrey tonight. Since coming back from Pudsey Mum has improved to the extent that I haven't seen her weep. Her appetite has improved too.

Watched an interesting programme on BBC2 on the life of Charles II who it seems died 300 years ago today in somewhat different circumstances to George VI. Charles's last words: "Let not poor Nellie starve", &c. To die suddenly in ones sleep denies one the opportunity of uttering poignant and meaningful last words. George VI's final utterance was probably: "Pass the cocoa, Evans."

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Tuesday February 5, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

Full Moon

Ally is most certainly not pregnant. She had a night upstairs.

Mum and Dad to Sue & Peter's for the day.

I was visited by the landlord of the New Inn at Gildersome, and pissed friend, a manager with Tetley's, who complained about my beer and offered me advice, &c. They left at 10:30 and Andy and I had a couple of pints afterwards discussing breweries and catering, &c. It was 1 o'clock when I went up to bed. _______.

I am to resume driving lessons after ten years, starting on Monday. When did I last take a driving test?  '74 or '75. This requires research.

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Monday February 4, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds

Ally has all the symptoms of pregnancy. Nausea, dizziness, and an awareness of some expansion in the tummy, &c. But of course she cannot be, as we've hardly made any attempt. We would like another child soon. We have said that we didn't want Samuel to reach two without a younger sibling. I would love Mum to see another grandchild. If a girl, we'll stick Nora in there as a middle name. I have thought of Aron if we beget another son. George Aron Albert Rhodes. Aron is of course Nora backwards. Calling a boy Nora would be oh so cruel. He'd grow up with ringlets, and heavy eye make-up, singing on the Oxford Road Show. 

What do you think about this AIDS scare? It is an awful homosexual scourge and no doubt it will be bringing a halt to much of the activity one finds in public lavatories in Gloucester and Harrogate. _______.

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Sunday February 3, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

Septuagesima

A working Septuagesima, no less. Mum and Dad went to John's for the afternoon supposedly for lunch, but when they got there the cupboard was bare. ___________. They came back at 5:30. 

We watched 'Songs of Praise Greatest Hits 1985' and found ourselves singing 'Abide With Me'. Mum says she last sang the old favourite at Uncle Albert's funeral in January, 1970. You know I have an aversion to hymn singing. A TV session. 'By The Sword Divided' - not excellent by any means. Downstairs at 9 o'clock I helped Margaret in the bar. An enjoyable evening.

News: Poor Princess Margaret has gone to Mustique to 'recuperate' in the company of royal 'jester' Ned Ryan.

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Saturday February 2, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

We went to Horton again. This time taking John. It meant leaving here at 8am. It was windy and cold up in the Dales. John climbed on the roof and grovelled inside the loft looking for leaks. It was all too complex for me. I sat reading 'Princess Margaret' by (Nigel) Dempster, and reflecting on the gloomy prospects of HRH's survival. We went to Settle at 1:30 and ate pies in the street before going in to the Talbot. We got somewhat 'worked up' in the pub and Dad and I slobbered into our beers. We really let off steam on these escapades to Horton. Home for tea. We ate French bread and cheese. Mum was very bright. No staff tonight because of Mavis's smallpox. We enjoyed ourselves tremendously. 

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Friday February 1, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

Madge Millar is 39. A party for her PM. Frank Millar lashed out and spent £7 on sandwiches and pork pies. The (birthday) cake, ablaze, took ones breath away. She had fifty candles lit for some reason. Ally used a good many matches lighting it.

Mum and Dad came back from Hilda's. The Jim Nasons came here, inc Julie. 

And so February comes.

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Thursday January 31, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

Marita 30. Andy (Bowden) arrived late pm. Idle bleeder. To Rawdon, to the dentist. No Hough, No Hodgson. The dentist was a lisping effeminate type. Needed no treatment, and booked an appointment for July. Samuel, all in yellow, went in, and the dentist counted his teeth, and registered him. Samuel didn't enjoy the experience and sat pulling at his tongue on the journey home. Saw Kim Dean in Rawdon (see Diary 1973).

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Wednesday January 30, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

Busiest ever luncheon. Cleaned the beer lines. Phoned Glynnie. Spoke to Mum at Pudsey. She seemed cheerful. Tony's cousin, a Mr Tunnicliffe, has been killed in a hit and run incident in Stanningley. They looked in on the crash scene, in glorious technicolour, on YTV's 'Calendar'. It ruined luncheon, no doubt.

And so, January has ended.

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Tuesday January 29, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

I will be brief because time is running out. Mum and Dad went to Hilda and Tony's for a few days, and Samuel went back into his own room, and we had a good night sleep for once. The boy must object to our snoring. Margaret worked instead of Andy, who worked last night with Maureen. A dead night.

Mum is back in the house where she was born 50 years ago.

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Monday January 28, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds

The snow goes. We went to Tadcaster leaving Mum and Dad babysitting. No sign of Rob and Kath. Donna (Lea) says Kath is in hospital with blood pressure. All the Sam Smiths managers assembled in the sub-zero brewery canteen. The new 'flexi-time' was the main item on the agenda, and we watched a promotional film on a tiny TV set. We then went shivering to the Angel & White Horse. A sycophantic bunch. C__W took the award for the manager with the brownest tongue (re arse licking). David Tyne came to Ally's side and Fran O'Brien suggested suitable restaurants for our supper. We spent some time with Don Whitfield - a nice man. We left at 9:30 and went to Jacomelli's, yet again, and found the place to ourselves, but for a fat, homely waitress called Doris. I got the hiccoughs so badly that the crockery rattled. Pissed as a fart. Home. Samuel had been angelic. To bed.

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Sunday January 27, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

3rd Sunday after epiphany

Snow fell. John came with JPH and Catherine. Janette was at home abed. John had been out at Beau Brummels until 3am. Naughty. Mum was frail. She cannot enjoy children as she once did. Catherine is a wonderful bubbling character and giggles at everything. Mum went to bed and I fell asleep on the settee snoring like a pig ( so I'm told). Later, after John's departure we had lamb and Lynn spoiled things by phoning to say that the roads in Guiseley were bad and that we should not attempt to drive over there this evening. Minutes later Lynn phoned back and said she was only having a panic and that the soiree was still on. Over we went and gathered around the TV set (Lynn refused to switch off). The booze was sparse and we came away at 11 o'clock quite gloomy. ______. Janette looked pale. Fish & chips at Westfield.

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