Saturday February 22, 1986

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

Ian and Jacq.

Bright and sunny. At 12 Jacq and Ian came in and we sat upstairs discussing the coming marriage. They are  having the usual pre-wedding nerves and some family squabbles. ___________. Ian's stag night is on March 20, and I must go. The wedding reception is taking place at the Mercury Ladbroke Hotel in Garforth. Jacq looked very well. They left at 2. To Vallance's where we saw a video player and yes - we bought it! (See tomorrow). We half expected to see John and Janette but they didn't appear. We both agree that a wedding 'do' here will be too much for Ally. Like Hell, in fact. Chris and Liz worked tonight. I went down for a drink.

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Friday February 21, 1986

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds, LS11 5NQ

Margaret.

Our recent holiday must have been more beneficial for the pub than we ever thought it would because a more relaxed, warm, and homely atmosphere has descended upon the Moorhouse this week. Ally and I like young lovers, laughter abounding, &c. Such pleasantness. A busy night. Just Margaret and I. Chris was supposed to be working but said he now has a prior engagement, but then he actually came here into the tap room at 8 o'clock slobbering all over Vicky Pearson. I fumed at this. Vicky will eat Chris for breakfast. She has had more prick than a second hand dart board. If the lad continues to refuse to work Fridays he will get the chop. Totally out of order him coming in here as a customer. Later upstairs I read Robert Graves.

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Thursday February 20, 1986

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds, LS11 5NQ

Some of the Fleet Street organs thought that yesterday would see Prince Andrew's engagement to Sarah Ferguson. The royal family don't do things like that. I gave Dad a run down on Miss F's family. LG called in at 12:30 and was affable. Ally went over to her clinic in Bradford at 1pm taking in Linfood, &c. Dad and I ate an enormous lunch of steak & kidney pie at 3pm, and then he went off to Guiseley to see Susie. He cannot dwell anywhere or on anything for long and he left in a vague flurry, almost on automatic pilot. I find it hard to describe his demeanour. Ally was back at 4pm in fine form. The midwife is pleased with her progress. She is 19 weeks exactly. Well, yesterday she was. Ally is so very content with the Bradford set-up. 

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Wednesday February 19, 1986

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

Club Street.

Cold and ice. Lieutenant the Prince Andrew, RN, is 26. My fourth driving test at Harehills at 9am. A bloody disaster. Mucked up at a few junctions and made myself a laughing stock at a roundabout . My examiner shit himself at some traffic lights. Such a foolish boy. Back home for 10am. Dad walked over to Morrison's with Samuel and when they toddled back over the ice and saw the 'L' plates still in position he asked no further questions. At 4 we all went to Club Street. Dad helped me rack sone wine. It was like vinegar. Ugh. Ally watched the tv series The Colbys. Samuel slept in our bed. Dad and I went out to the Oddfellows, which I didn't like, and then to the Coach House, a Whitbread establishment. Took fish and chips home for us. Ally had a prawn curry. Returned to the Moorhouse at 11:30. An exhausting sort of day. I am a Reginald Molehusband.

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Tuesday February 18, 1986

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

Dad phoned from Guiseley this afternoon and invited himself over here for a few days. We love to see him. I am taking my driving test tomorrow and so the long held secret will be discovered at the eleventh hour. We had tea off the Minton china when Dad came at 4:30. Samuel had been 'glued' to 'Postman Pat'. We stood at the window for ages waiting for Dad's chugging, ailing vehicle. I went down at 5:30. We had no staff tonight. Stone dead. Ally and Dad came down at 8 and sat chatting. He says that Janette now says the wedding is to take place at Bradford Register Office in June or July followed by a reception for 40 people here. Ally paled at this. She will of course be nine months pregnant by then. Dad added that John and Janette are coming here soon to discuss the finer details and that we are not to say that he has 'leaked' the news to us. Maria gave birth to a daughter, her fourth child, recently. JPH remains the only son. We went up at 11:30 and I told Dad of my test. He thinks I am weird for not saying anything before. For once he has had a complete week at Waltergarth. The poor man hates solitude.

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Monday February 17, 1986

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

Washington's Birthday Observance

Lynn came here this afternoon bubbling away with the children and stayed for tea. The girls eat like little pigs. Mounds of biscuits and chocolates were consumed. It was all too much for Samuel who sat goggle-eyed at the visit. Tantrums. We put it down to excitement. Poor Lynn was wearing Mum's engagement ring and confessed to great feelings of morbidity and gloom. She has terrible nightmares and thinks that she will go the same way. Let's face it. Cancer or heart attacks dominate in taking the population down and so one of the family is going to be struck down in a similar way. But why be in fear of it?

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Sunday February 16, 1986

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

1st Sunday in Lent

I have contracted another soddin' cold. Probably from Samuel. My lips are cracked and I bleed when I smile. Downstairs bearded Brian asked me about Kaiser Wilhelm II and what became of him. I told him that the old Emperor had died in Holland (Dorn) in 1941, and that his grandson had married Lady Honor Guinness, and that his great-granddaughter Antonia von Preussen was the wife of a future Duke of Wellington. Yawn, gasp.

The pub is extraordinarily quiet this afternoon and bliss to go upstairs at 2:30 to watch 'Eastenders'. I sat with a large cherry brandy, purely for medicinal purposes. Oozing from various facial outlets. Mucus, &c. Feet up. Samuel is very good at times like this. Playing doctors and hospitals and practicing mechanics at the rear of his Postman Pat car. Quite a chatterbox. Large dark eyes like his mum. I'd love a dozen like him. Ally won't discuss boy names, and no doubt has a secret weapon up her sleeve. Wayne, or Dean, or something. 

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Saturday February 15, 1986

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

It would be a tragedy to lose the prime minister. She is the only person in whom I can place my confidence and she does deserve a third term. Another crack at the whip. If the Tories ditch her before the next general election I will refuse to vote and remain at home on polling day and read Dickens.

Andrew is 22. 

The pub was deathly quiet for three reasons. 

1). The weather

2). Barry McGuigan is fighting on the telly

3). The punters may think the Kennedys are still here

Bernie: wellingtons.

Tonight: Punters gathered around the TV in the tap room. Even Frank and Bernie and other lounge inhabitants, to watch the fight. I've never been one for boxing but found it entertaining. I stood for the national anthems and then dimmed the pub lighting for effect. It was like the Odeon cinema. Bernie was wearing her wellington boots. Barry McGuigan won in 13 rounds. His opponent was one of those south American types. 

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Friday February 14, 1986

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

Valentine's Day

Very cold morn. Bradford always is cold though. It could be tropical in Leeds. St. Valentine. Dear old Reg Scott, on his last legs, is celebrating his birthday, as is Muriel Rawnsley. What a prodigious memory I have. We were back at the Moorhouse for 10. Stock take with Rob Young. He gave the Kennedys a £17 deficit. They have passed a quiet, uneventful week. Mrs Kennedy it seems wore the same bottle-green flying suit every afternoon and night. She was unpopular with the customers. They were snatching glasses from the customers and ejecting them into the street at 10:45 every night. 

LG called in on them last Tuesday for no particular reason. We are having a quiz here on February 26 v. the Brown Hare at Harehills. I have a note informing me that I have a driving test next Wednesday at 9am. 

At 4:50 we were at the doctors. Samuel has a cold again. We saw Dr Danks, who made him giggle. 

Tonight Marlene and Frank came in at 9:30. Apparently, Mark is working for Telecom, only a stones throw away. He came in at 10 o'clock for half an hour or so. They haven't been here since May. The pub was busy. Obviously, all the customers are coming back in to see me.

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Thursday February 13, 1986

 Chillandham Cross, Itchen Abbas SO21 1AS

Ally and Bessie just don't get on at all. For a few days together they are OK but a week is far too much. They almost came to blows today, and it was very snappy over breakfast. Bessie even told me to stop bashing her china around. I am usually exempt from B's attacks. Ally didn't speak all day because she didn't want to put her foot in it.

Frank gets out of bed at a ridiculously early hour every morning and wakes Samuel in the process, and so we feel that this holiday has been more tiring than life at the Moorhouse. We were up at 8am and sat watching a video of 'Quo Vadis?' from last night. It's in three segments.. Ally was in the bath and then packed and didn't appear until 11 or so. Samuel went to bed for an hour and we left at 1 o'clock. 

Back at Club Street and peace. We really should have come here for a week instead of traipsing off south. Winchester has had it. It's time they came up here to see us instead. We watched the end of 'Quo Vadis?' and then all slept together in the big bed. Very cold here. Snow etc.

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Wednesday February 12, 1986

 Chillandham Cross, Itchen Abbas SO21 1AH

Ash Wednesday

Breakfast was awful. The atmosphere very bad. Ally and Bessie just rub each other up the wrong way. We went out to Winchester when Samuel had his afternoon nap. We went to a travel agent and Ally borrowed a video of the island of Lesbos where, for some reason, she would like to holiday. I have always imagined Lesbos to be crowded with butch ladies in deer stalkers, plus fours and monocles. Those ghastly feminist types with more beard growth than George Michael. In fact the island seems peaceful and suitable for small babies. We would like a foreign holiday in May or June '87 when baby will be 9 or 10 months old. ______. We went to the Old Vine to see Graham and his brother-in-law Michael Lynn, who works for the Hampshire Chronicle. Graham is en route to Leeds, would you believe, where he is to meet the adonis Anthony Browne, who makes Oscar Wilde look like a brickie. 

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