Wednesday September 18, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

A spate of particularly bad child murders dominate the news. __________. Phoned Dad and Marlene, but not in that order. Marlene didn't know I'd phoned last week. Debbie didn't pass on my message. Dad seemed choked, but was OK. He mentioned the anniversary of leaving the police - three years since Giovanni's and the Fox. Three years since Mum gave us all a delightful cheque. What a big generous heart. We miss her.

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Tuesday September 17, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

Leslie Gledhill came here at 9 to look at our weekly sheets and staff rota, and went away unable to find any fault, and instead talked about Guy Watsons (?) and Bordeaux. Our staff hours are set at 70. We have been dithering around with this figure for a while and so it wasn't a blow. LG thinks as we do about Ron Brook and promises to come here on the day we get back from holiday and says he may even drop in on Thursday evening. He does look after our interest. Walked with Samuel again.

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Monday September 16, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

It is the third anniversary of Dad leaving the police force. Only Ally and I worked tonight. Three old ladies came in to the bar at the same time and panic ensued over the bottles of light ale. Food busy. Everybody had fish and chips. Mrs Collinson phoned to say she won't cook whilst we are on holiday. Silly cow. _____.  Samuel and I have been taking long afternoon walks over Hunslet Moor and across the motorway bridge. A pony was tethered and Samuel went into raptures. Samuel seemed to enjoy the walk more than the sliding and swinging experience in the park. This is reassuring. Parks are such dull, childish places.

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Sunday September 15, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

15th Sunday after Trinity

Frank's birthday today spent on the island of Jersey whilst the builders do great things at Chillandham Cross.

To Horton early-ish. The Bakers were in attendance. ________. Lynn spoke of joining us at Bessie's on Sept 28 - quite uninvited. Frances is into ballet and she leapt and twirled everywhere. Katie is into a witch called Esmerelda. We had a cold, dismal buffet. Poor Horton. Dad is using Mum's 'priceless' china from the cabinet. She'd squeal if she knew. Poor Dad. We left at 6:30. Dad waving us off was a tear-jerking experience. To the pub. Sat upstairs. Juke box booming up through the floor. Watched Sherlock Holmes on the TV. Dreadful.

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Saturday September 14, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

New Moon

It was an early rise because of our darling son and heir, who had no qualms about getting his drunken Papa out of bed to provide him with a 'full English' breakfast. The guests from last night had stayed over and they all ate too. Some in a shocking state of undress. Gerry in his canary yellow y-fronts. We watched cartoons on the telly and giggled at Maggie Philbin, or is she Philpotts? They all left at 11. Pitts had collapsed on the loo and we found him with his pants around his ankles amidst the choking fumes. Ally was green. At 12 we returned to bed for a few hours, and Samuel caught up on some beauty sleep. Little else to say. Phoned Dad. We are going to Horton tomorrow.

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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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