Thursday March 7, 1985

 Full Moon

Moorhouse Inn

Little Lord Snowdon is 55 today. They say that Princess Margaret is back on the cigs. It would be foolish of HRH to say the least. 

A gang of Egyptians are buying Harrods.

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Wednesday March 6, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

_________. Mum is hopelessly 'down'. It is Lynn's 27th birthday. It is the fact that it's her daughter's birthday that has so upset Mum today. She was weeping in bed at lunchtime and I made some attempt to comfort her. She said writing Lynn's birthday card was a wrench. "I won't be here next year, will I?"

Lynn and Dave are on holiday this week - at Scarborough today, and they called in with the girls after their seaside jaunt. Mum broke down in front of Lynn too.

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Tuesday March 5, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

I have the most disgusting hangover I have perhaps ever experienced. Ally too lay whimpering beneath the quilt and refused to climb out of bed. I had to persuade Maureen to open up at 11 and I stood around red-eyed. I made a lasagne and pies, and fed Samuel. Poor Terry (Teri/Terri/Theresa/Teresa??)  came in to work and I sprawled upon the settee and slept. Ally found some inner strength and climbed out of bed to cook. Audrey enjoyed it and found it a huge joke. Then, at 2pm, when the calm of post-lunch activity descended who should appear but David and Jean Watts with the Dowager Watts and Hannah. I could have died. We gave them coffee and attempted conversation, but I had to make an exit to spew up. Have you ever tried to vomit quietly? Back in the lounge I think my indisposition had gone undetected. David W is going to college in Leeds on Tuesdays and they will be back in a few weeks when we will be in a better situation.

Mum and Dad came back at 5. She is always 'done in' after travelling.

Andy Bowden's last night. He attempted to persuade me to buy him a drink at 11pm but I told him to be gone. Staggered to death bleary-eyed and at deaths door. 

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Monday March 4, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

The miners strike has fizzled out after a futile year and they have gone back to work, on bended knees. Serves 'em right. 

Driving lesson at 9.  Ally got a helper in the kitchen today. She's called Terry (Teresa), one of the nice lounge customers.

Sir Iain Moncreiffe of that Ilk has joined the choir invisible. Succeeded in the baronetcy by Lord Erroll and in the clan chieftainship by his second son the Hon Peregrine. Only last month Sir Iain was accused of having made vulgar suggestions  to the dear prime minister in the Palace of Holyroodhouse, which he fervently denied.

Jill and Tim called in at 8 for half an hour. It was Andy Bowden's penultimate session. At 11 we found ourselves continuing in the revelry and the three of us, Andy and Ally and I hit the Diet Pils with a vengeance. It was soon 4:14am and we were pissed as arseholes. Andy is a stimulating friend.

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Sunday March 3, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

2nd Sunday in Lent

with dear Phyllis.

Drizzle. Up for a full-English. Samuel is much better behaved without the influence of his doting grandad and devoured his bacon and eggs splendidly. Today is day one of our new stream-lined system and I worked 12-2 with Margaret and 7-11 with Mavis. Enjoyable really. I always did enjoy Sundays in the bar. We had a 'knobbly knees' contest at 2pm and Geoff's wife Phyllis fell on top of me demolishing a chair. All in good fun. Terry Egan has legs like a Christmas turkey. 

At 3 I drove Ally and Sam to Pudsey where we spent an hour at Wilsby. Mum was bright and pretty, and sitting in the bay window eating an orange. Hilda is such a good tonic. Tony busy as ever. Di came in covered in muck from renovating her Calverley home. Sam was hot and petty. He cried on seeing Uncle Tony and pulled a large 'pet lip' on catching sight of Pepper, the frustrated terrier. Dad looked pale and fed up. Home for prawn cocktails, chops, &c. by candlelight. Snoozed afterwards but struggled down at 7 to do my bit.

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Saturday March 2, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

We were both in foul tempers at breakfast and escaped the close confines of the Moorhouse and went with haste to Bradford at 11:30 where Ally shopped at Linfood and afterwards we went to Club St for a fish and chip lunch on the floor. Samuel did very well with a plate on his knees and a tea towel improvising as a bib. He loves investigating at Club St and soaks up the happiness and tranquility of the place, our haven for 5 years. Thank God we have held on to this retreat. We can regain our sanity and squat like monks, if need be. To Cheap 'n Cheerful where we bought a large, sturdy bed frame and a tiny bookcase for £22. Then to a lovely little place called Ali Baba Carpets where we bought a bed base for £35 after a car ride to a warehouse with a little Pakistani salesman. He could have been taking us anywhere. This stuff is for Club St so tat we can stay overnight during our Easter break and Mum can retreat here if need be.

Steady evening with Mavis. Ally was upstairs spring cleaning. Phoned Mum at Pudsey. No visitors today. Hilda was babysitting for Hayley at Karen's and Tony was doing his paperwork. I said we might drop in tomorrow.

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Friday March 1, 1985

 St David's Day

Moorhouse Inn

The first of March. I am very gloomy and black today. Mum is declining rapidly. I cannot foresee her living to see my 30th birthday. Last night she was a pathetic sight. We phoned Lynn and Susan to warm them of mother's weakening condition. Both understand the situation. When they saw at Christopher's party on Wednesday they saw a distinct change for the worse. Sue had a bad day yesterday. Hilda must be a good tonic for Mum because she will eat when staying at Pudsey and get out of bed for breakfast, where he she lies helplessly in bed. Ally now thinks that this is not the place for Mum. I phoned Auntie Hilda later, and spoke to Mum who was so different from the despairing soul of last Thursday. She sat all day reminiscing over old photographs and talking about Uncle Albert, &c. Jill and Tim say they have never seen Hilda so low and depressed as she has been since Christmas.

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Thursday February 28, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

The Brigadier Gerard: 'Posh'

Mist. Final day of the HCTB (1) course at York. Took a taxi to the railway station and met Debbie Bailey for a coffee. 87p I spent. At Stonebow House we went straight into our final demonstrations. A very relaxed affair with Don, Debbie and Barrie. I went last - after the coffee break - I cleaned shoes and demonstrated the task for Barrie. The polishing cloth was a tatty, old pair of Ally's discarded knickers. Debbie is such a hopeless giggler. Lunch at the Brigadier Gerard - very posh. Our guarded opinion is that the manager, whose name escapes me, is a complete 'tit'. We travelled everywhere by taxis on expenses. After lunch we had another session with Don and then played games relating to employer/employee relations. Very amusing. I am something of a Dustin Hoffman. One by one we went to Don's office to be told we had passed our 'exam' and can expect a cheque for £25 and a certificate. Home with Debbie. Mum wasn't good and struggled out at 9pm to go see Hilda & Tony. I phoned at 9:30 and they were safely installed. I phoned Lynn and Sue and told them of how weak Mum is, and add that she probably ahsn't got long left. It's so awful.

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Wednesday February 27, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

Back to York with Farting Frank. We have exactly the same opinion of the Pirie family and it is so refreshing to meet a person who doesn't idolise Pirie as the Moorhouse staff and punters do. Frank is one of those who resents all authority and he looks upon Sam Smiths as a mere stepping stone to better things. He is of the opinion that the HCTB  course is a complete waste of time and is thinking of walking out if it becomes any 'sillier'. To do that would be a grievous mistake. We all assembled for coffee and roared with laughter. Managers together have such good stories to relate. We had another task to perform and I chose the chipping of a potato. Lunched in town with Barrie and Mel. Barrie, at Levenshulme, is but a stones throw from the Hollywood at Edgeley. What a large, jovial character he is. Sensational developments followed after lunch when John (?) from the Master Cooper and Farting Frank informed Don that they did not want to continue with the course, and they walked out. Don, was clearly stunned, and we all hung our heads in embarrassment at the childish act. Mike Walker will go through the roof. Home on the train with Debbie, who is a mixed bag. She fired questions at me on all topics, and loudly, which other passengers found gripping. 

Christopher's party was just too much for poor Mum.

-=-

Tuesday February 26, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

Frank Marshall, the incumbent of the Horse & Jockey at Ossett, came here at 8:30 and off we went to York for three days with the Hotel and Catering Training Board. Frank is one of those down to earth sort of people, with a severe bowel disorder. The car windows had to be wound down on our journey because of the ghastly fumes emanating from Mr Marshall's rear. We were late arriving at Stonebow House. Poor Mike Walker was just finishing a talk and making his excuses to disappear, and we sat - about 12 of us - around a table with Don Bywater and a plump blond called Clare. I sat with Frank (right) and dear Debbie Bailey (left). The only other faces I recognised was Barrie Ashworth (the Bluebell, Levenshulme) and ear-studded Mel (the Roebuck, Rochdale). Don, puffing a cigar, gave us a film show 'Marie and the manager', which we all hoped would be a 'bluey'. Sadly, it swelt on employer/employee relations. To the Hansom Cab for lunch. This afternoon we broke into two groups. I was with Frank, Debbie and Barrie and we each demonstrated a small task. I showed Barrie how to create a ham sandwich. Talk about giggles. These few days are going to be a hysterical adventure, and a welcome break from pulling ale day and night. To was home for 5pm just as Ally was opening the doors. Knackered and exhausted. Sat and had a few Diet Pils. Mum, horrribly weak, was determined to bake Christopher's birthday cake. Hilda had phoned Ally who told her how 'low' Mum was feeling and so at 7:30 in walked Hilda & Tony (T dropped H with Mum then went on to Ossett to see Dutch Nell, a friend).  After closing Ally and I had a Chinese, and Mum set about icing Christopher's cake at 11pm. It was too much for her. She was breathless, and a stooped figure in the kitchen, like a 93 year-old. Hilda is such a good tonic for her. Dad's taking Mum to Pudsey on Thursday for three or four days.

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Monday February 25, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds

Driving lesson at 9am with Karen Hudson, who is very much into plastic jewelry. A personable young lady who puts me at ease. Driving instructors seem to be obsessed by chewing gum. Is it good for the nerves?

Frank Marshall phoned to say he will collect me at dawn instead of me having to find my own way to Ossett, which is good. We will be able to have a chat on the subject of our mutual predecessor, the ghastly Pirie. 

Little Christopher is three on Wednesday and it is under debate as to whether Mum is capable of attending the birthday party. It will be riotous and exhausting. It is a tragedy that she no longer enjoy her grandchildren and that none, except JPH, will remember her. It is so hard to accept that her young life is to be stubbed out. It makes me want to go out and kick the first wrinkled old pensioner I bump into.

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