Monday December 23, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

Busy. Stocktake. Good old Ronnie came. He gave us a £140 surplus. I do not like surpluses. The next one will be £140 down. Baked mince pies and played Christmas carols on the stereo. Samuel thinks carols are dull, and says so. He prefers Feargal Sharkey. LG appeared with a calendar for '86 and a smile. I told him of Ally's condition and off he went giggling saying "it's nice to get them all over with early". Little does he know that this is only the beginning. He didn't want to discuss figures or be gloomy at this time of festive rejoicing. Silly prat. We rushed into town at 3:30 and the place was mad. Ally was feeling bad and couldn't buy anything but I went to Dyson's and Denton's and bought a pair of amethyst earrings for £65 and a bottle of Diorissimo for £15. I do love pig so very much. She looked faint. Samuel didn't like the experience of a packed Leeds Market. Laura Ashley was stripped of contents - panic buying. We should buy shares.

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Sunday December 22, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

4th Sunday in Advent

Crisp & cold. A pink and yellow sky as JPW Turner would have splodged, or was he JWP or JPM? We went over to Guiseley at 3 and sat in Harry Ramsden's carpark eating chips. Sam enjoyed the adventure. Then, to the cemetery to see poor Mum with some carnations and Chinese orchids. It was biting cold and I had no coat. Stood mutely looking at the slab of stone. Lynn had been before us with some unopened daffodils. On to John and Janette's for whisky, and a nurse of Charlotte. JPH and Catherine were there watching 'Ghostbusters'. JPH wearing a gold chain. __________. On to Lynn's. The scrubbed kids were watching a Dickens serial. Lynn called it "Twist". ______. Liz phoned in sick at 6:50pm, and Chris, an angel Gabriel to be sure, worked instead at a moments notice.

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Saturday December 21, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

Shortest Day

Dear Brown.

A juvenile bastard smashed a window in the tap room last night at 12 as we were locking up. Not a customer of course. Dad went home. It's always sad to see him go. Samuel watched from an upstairs window and sobbed. Michael Brown and his father, old Harold, appeared at 1pm and remained until 4:30 or so. We argued about religion. Old Harold claims to be an atheist and he became very heated when Michael spoke of Christ and 'God incarnate' &c. Harold taunted his son. "Do the 12 million turkeys slaughtered this Christmas have souls too?" "No. Only humans go to heaven" explained Michael. "Well", said Harold, "heaven must be an awful place for a) St Francis of Assisi, b) Barbara Woodhouse,  and c) the Birdman of Alcatraz". Old Mrs Brown phoned and was fuming. They had spent too long here. I took Samuel down to see them. I do like Brown. Such a fun person.

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Friday December 20, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

Do Christmas dinners. Pathetic really. We give food away. Later, hung pictures. Quiet tonight. Dad and I sat in the pub lounge by the Christmas tree, joined by a bespectacled Punjabi grandfather who asked me if he could possible hold a family party here with curry and Punjabi music. I readily said yes and giggled. Imagine Albert Taylor's face.

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Thursday December 19, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

Uncle Peter appeared this afternoon with a pile of Christmas cards for the family.

We had a Christmas fuddle. We surprised Dad at 3:30 and took him to Da Mario's on the Headrow for a spot of Italian fayre. Panzerotto. Samuel was an angel and looked a little dot with his head peeping over the top of the round marble table. He ate minestrone soup, a lasagne, and an enormous multi-coloured ice-cream topped with a sparkler. He was so proud. We returned home at 5:30, very bloated. Maureen opened up at 5:30. Ally went to see Dr Sykes. ________. He tried to book her into the Clarendon Wing for the birth, but she refused. He was good with her but thinks she is an awkward customer. Why can't she be bloody awkward? Too many people around here are led these days like paraplegic sheep.

John, Janette and Peter Mather came and stayed for an hour after closing. They argued about love and marriage and John would not be drawn on the subject of a 1986 wedding despite Janette's constant reference to it. Only when I told them it would be quite improper for me to be his best man for the second time did John comment. He was emphatic. "Oh yes, you are going to be my best man". Dad burst into a smile. John had committed himself to matrimony. They left at 12 leaving Dad and I puzzling. Janette was unhappy at my coolness and at my criticism of March 14 for the wedding. She exclaimed that she had no idea that John's previous walk down the aisle had taken place on March 13.

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Wednesday December 18, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

Brief writing because of Christmas. Full coverage will return in the New Year. We did Christmas lunches. Ally phoned her old Bradford doctor who refused, via his receptionist, to take her back for maternity care only. Ally was livid, but the medics there haven't won yet. She phoned Dr Sykes at Beeston Hill, and made an appointment for tomorrow at 5:40. Bloody Hell. We pay rates in Bradford, own a house there, and can see no reason why we cannot go to hospital there. We will lie and cheat in future. It doesn't pay to be honest. Ally phoned Sister Matthews at 5:30 who agreed with us and told us to transfer to a Bradford GP at an early date in the New Year. Busy night. We made food for a visiting choir who didn't appear until late and then were depleted (no tenor).

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Tuesday December 17, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

Daddy came in at lunchtime as we were cleaning up after the decorators who came and finished daubing gloss paint in half an hour this morning. We hung pictures and curtains and made the room look lived in. Then, I drove Dad down to Morrison's where I bought a seven foot Christmas tree  and squashed it in the back of the car with him and Samuel. I had some difficulty with the gear stick and the tree trunk. Back at the Moorhouse we erected the tree in all its finery. I have always had an obsession with Christmas trees. They have to be just right.  Maureen opened up at 5:30. Spam sandwiches, &c.

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Monday December 16, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

I'm writing this on the old pine table in our kitchen at 12:31am. _____. This time of ear is for children. It's a magical time which we should never spoil with adult problems. Not a steady day by any means. Up at 6am. The decorators came and started on our private lounge which should be finished by tomorrow. We went to Morrison's and spent £69 and then went to Linfood (4pm) and spent another £100. Samuel rode in the supermarket trolley like Ben Hur. We went on to the doctor at Paternoster Lane, Bradford. The evil receptionist, eating a large green apple, had a Dr Goebbels-like attitude and decided to be rude, but Ally stood her ground and insisted on seeing a doctor. Ally's quack, Dr Duck (her real name) is away having had a male duckling of her own, and so she saw a stand in doc who told her he would have to consult Dr Michie regarding Ally bringing forth George/Clemmie at the Bradford Royal Infirmary, but saw no major obstacles. Ally has to phone tomorrow for his deliberations. If he says 'no' then we shall find another Bradford GP. Ally refuses to go to the Clarendon Wing ...___. Samuel played excellently with a young lady in the waiting room who was waiting to see her doctor. I checked her out for spots and rashes and decided she must be there on a gynaecological visit. Am I perhaps a pervert? Liz Melvin in tonight. She was pale, but not pregnant. Her doctor has told her she is suffering from the side effects of the pill, giving her sick headaches. Did I really need to know this? The birth control pill is a nasty thing. The pool knock-out was a fiasco. It ended at 11:15pm.

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Sunday December 15, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn Leeds LS11 5NQ

3rd Sunday in Advent

Lethargic. Ally and Sam slept upstairs like Angels in bed together (this is at 2pm). Two golden heads. I 'trimmed up' for Christmas below. Feeling far from festive. Later, the pub strongly resembled Santa's grotto. Ally nauseous. Watched 'Oliver Twist'.

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Saturday December 14, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds, LS11 5NQ

N.A. Gadsby was born 50 years ago today. I posted a birthday card with a suitable ode inscribed within:

"For Fifty Years You have Walked this Earth,

Famed throughout from Pudsey to Perth,

Fun, with a Youthful Zest for Life,

Your Capacity for Industry is rife,

Your erections are admired in many places,

Look at the smiles on your clients faces,

This Nation of Ours cannot go wrong,

With Tony Gadsby leading the throng".....

N.A. Gadsby in earlier years.

Awful, eh? A terrible day. Ate nothing. My tummy has gone. I do wish that the bags under my eyes would go. I look like the news reader Peter Woods. Lynn phoned to say they would come here at 3pm. This they did. David looked bored and sat buried beneath one of Samuel's fairy story books, and flatly refused offers of a drink. Lynn had two barley wines which she splashed everywhere. We had to turn them down at Thorpefields for Christmas Day morning, but invited them here on Boxing Day (along with Sue & John which we arranged yesterday). Sadly, they have to be David's parents at Pool for 3pm on that day. They left at 5. Susan says Lynn still sobs and sobs over the loss of Mum, but she buries the heartache from everyone else.

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Friday December 13, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

I can take anything that Friday the Thirteenth might throw at me because things cannot get any worse than the bad luck I've been hammered with already in '85.  At least the year has ended with very good news for us. Little Clementine Alice Nora Rhodes or George Tobias Albert Rhodes is on her/his way. 

Two staff PM. Chris and Liz. I expected John and Janette but they didn't materialise. So at 10pm I phoned to ask if they were on their way. John answered casually. I asked: "where the Hell are you?" He replied "I'm sat here watching the telly. Why?" Blast. Janette had failed to inform John that we had arranged to meet tonight and I felt bruised to be let down. I could have kicked myself. _______. To bed threatening to spend Christmas '86 in the Canary Islands. Sod Santa Claus. Goodwill? Bah, Humbug.

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