Friday September 13, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

Hayley is two. Ally went to a birthday party at the new Sanderson pile on Crawshaw Rise (or is it Drop?).

Tonight, as planned, Chippy (now suave, and known as Gerry Ash) and a gang consisting of Ian Pitts (normal) and a red headed 24 year-old bank clerk with a frustrative personality, and his Mexican-like silent brother. A long evening of debauchery. They were drinking the Diet Pils and became hopelessly intoxicated. I drank Campari and was the height of sophistication all evening.

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Thursday September 12, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

Lunchtime. Ally and Sam went with Papa to the Clarendon Wing to see Thomas John Elmer. There was a very good 'turn out' and a multitude surrounded Jill's bed.

(I can write no more because I have spilt some wine on the page and made it wet. Sorry).

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Wednesday September 11, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

John and Janette have registered Charlotte. Marlene is 40 today and celebrated by going to play Bingo.

club Street.

We went to Bradford at 3 after doing the lunches. To Duckworth Lane Co-op, Oxfam, &c. On to Club Street and met Dad. He was in the garden. We pottered around pruning the foliage, and had cheese and bread for lunch. It was the first time that Dad had set foot here since May 6, when Mum left for Horton. Our sense of loss now passes in silence. It is unspeakable. Fish & chips tonight and 'Minder' on the telly. Sam slept in our bed after a playful bathtime. We all came back to the Moorhouse at 11:30pm. Phoned Marlene and spoke to Debbie. M was of course 'bingoing'.

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Tuesday September 10, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

Baby Thomas John.

Warm and sunny. Leslie Gledhill appeared at breakfast time. I had been up since 7am in the cellar cleaning the beer lines, and he appeared as I was tucking into some tea and toast. Samuel was delighted and played with Les's musical calculator. LG asked if we fancy a move. He is obsessed with moving managers around, and assumes we are bored with the place now. He agrees that the overall appearance of the place is disgusting and squalid, and John Newband was spoken of in very unflattering terms. We discussed our peculiar stocks of late and M.R. Dalison, the stocktaker. He went off like a tornado. The dray came at 12. Ally went out shopping and at 2:45 Samuel and I went out for one of our regular walks over the motorway bridge and to the park. We inspected a large, black pony. Samuel is a delight. Back at 3:30 for a makeshift tea. Poor Ally was weak at the knees (gynaecological redaction). Downstairs at 5:45 Hilda phoned to say Jill had a son, Thomas John, at 4pm, by Caesarian section. He weighs 8lb 8oz. Poor Jill was out cold and missed the whole thing, but both are well. Hilda says she'll feel better after visiting at 7pm. _____. Spoke to Papa tonight. He has been at Menston. The tension there has eased. John is registering Charlotte with his surname tomorrow. He and Janette plan to marry, but J is vague about a date. They are a contrary pair.

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Monday September 9, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

Leslie Gledhill came in at 11:57am. The price of our ales are increased. Old Brewery Bitter is now 69p (was 65p), lager now 81p (was 77p), Pils 96p (was 91p), Mild 66p (was 62p), &c. &c. All very amusing really. The customers become so unruly about it, and I am on the receiving end. Poor Dave Florey collapsed and died at 11:30am en route here. He was a little pain, but a jester in the Archie mold. A good lager drinker too, and only 43.

Lynn and David plighted their troth seven years ago today down at Esholt. I phoned them tonight but they were out celebrating. Dad answered. He was sitting watching TV holding Frances by the hand. He says how grown up Franny is and that she wanted to sit with her grandad for a short while.

(Large redaction too sensitive to publish)

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Sunday September 8, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

14th Sunday after Trinity

Susan and Peter came with the boys. Susie tells us that she is 'washing up' at Harry Ramsden's three nights a week. I have a rush of pity. My poor sister having to go out and do greasy dishes, &c. My God it will be a change for her. ___________. Doesn't Maria also work at Harry Ramsden's?

Old Harold Wilkinson is reading a book, supposedly serious, that explains how Pope John Paul I was 'done in' in 1978. These RCs are a right bunch, aren't they?

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Saturday September 7, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

Ally was in a collapsed state all day and did her 'Sleeping Beauty' routine on me. Poor Samuel was motherless.

A happy birthday to Queen Elizabeth I who first breathed air upon this day in 1533 at Greenwich. She once said: "Good morning gentlemen both", to a delegation of seven tailors. Sounds very Monty Python to me.

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Friday September 6, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

Mary Theresa Collinson, our kitchen assistant gave her notice today. It has been brewing for a long while. We are secretly elated because the food trade is so bad we simply don't need her services. She goes on holiday to Jersey on Sunday for a week. We have the option to employ her whilst we are on holiday Sept 19-Oct 2. In recent months we have been able to slice the air with a knife in our catering kitchen. Ally is developing a complex that she cannot get on with anybody.

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Thursday September 5, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds

Day off. We escaped to Club Street and the domestic delights of our Bradford nest. We could never let Club Street go. If I won £48m on one Mr Maxwell's Bingo games we'd keep Club Street. Yes, we might also acquire a chateau in the Loire Valley but Ash Tree Cottage is here to stay. Samuel loves the place too and says 'cottage' when we pull up outside. The day was blustery and fine and so we went to Duckworth Lane and the Co-op where we squabbled about what to eat - eventually picking up some ridiculous Findus salmon and cod creations at a £1 each. To Cheap 'n Cheerful and then home for lunch. Ally phoned Bessie and a contractor about our damp. Yes, we have damp in both our homes. Bessie says that Simon has a lump on his back and has to go to Bristol to see a paediatrician. I had a gloomy hour sticking some of Dad's photos in an album. Only last year Mum was bouncing around all tanned  with that gleaming smile. After Sam's nap we went out for a walk, but the wind and violent rain drove us home. Sam slept in the middle of our bed and we reclined in chairs with books. A ghastly epic 'Superman III' was on TV which we only half watched (we have taken our tiny black and white portable Tv back there). We returned to Leeds for 11:30. The pub had been quiet because of a 'do' at the Canning Street Club to which the cream of Beeston society attended. Sam was restless in bed. He must be too old for this bedroom shuttle.

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Wednesday September 4, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

Overcast - me and the weather. The alarm sounded at 7 but Ally switched it off for half an hour. Felt groggy and could have stayed in bed, but didn't. Graham went for a run, devoured an egg, and left for Manchester. Ally, Sam and I went to town and bought pies at the market, and a pile of birthday cards which cost me £4 - the tribulations of having so many kinfolk. Uncle Peter appeared at 12 for a Cornish pasty. I sat with him for an hour. Julie is marrying Steve on Sept 6 next year and afterwards at Norfolk Gardens, Bradford. Dad is to be invited for the whole day, but cousins are invited to the evening soiree. Tonight Ally and I worked without staff. Chippy's friend, Ian Pitts, appeared with a car key and asked me to keep it behind the bar for Chippy to collect tomorrow. Odd. Pitts said that a gang will be coming here on Friday Sept 13. Say no more.

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Tuesday September 3, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

Graham appeared again. This time he's working in Manchester. The poor boy looks tired and is still off the cigs and jogging regularly. He came in and flopped down on our settee and slept until 10 when he came down for a few (drinks). It was dead downstairs. Paul Chalmers came in - you remember Paul - he was a much tattooed regular here last year. Anyway, his sister was a victim of the recent Manchester Airport disaster (Aug 22) when 54 bound for Corfu were fried on the tarmac. The poor buggers didn't even get in the air.

Barbara Thingy appeared on 'Name That Tune', a ghastly musical quiz on ITV. You remember Barbara - Lynn's elderly friend from her Yorkshire Light Aircraft days, who frequented Pine Tops gatherings in the halcyon days of yesteryear. 

Someone had an epileptic fit in a mini in the car park and I played the Doctor Kildare bit quite well. Had fish and chips with Graham washed down with cherry brandy - watched a lewd 'Carry On' film.

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