Sunday July 15, 1984

 4th Sunday after Trinity

Moorhouse Inn

To Linfood at dawn to spend £50 on frozen chips and other vital provisions. We had no cleaner in today because staff supposedly cannot work on seven consecutive days. So Ally did the swabbing out at midnight. We did steer clear of the lavatories. Nothing can persuade me to mop up other people's piss. They don't pay me enough for that. 

Watched 'Casablanca' again. My excuse was that Samuel hasn't seen it before. He giggled when I exclaimed: 'play it again, Sam', and 'here's looking at you, kid'. 

Bessie phoned. She seems to think we are disorganised for next Sundays ceremonial. We never flap. Graham and Gill were lunching at Martyr Worthy just returned from the Isle of Wight. Matthew was running riot on top of the Hepplewhite. Oh God.

Dave L walked in at 7:15 for seven packs of hedgehog favoured crisps. He looked tanned after a holiday at Runswick Bay. His dog, Rowan, has just won a pound at Bolton Abbey Show and he had collected this vast sum from the hands of Lady Hartington herself, whom he described as 'looking quite as normal and your and I'. Of course she is. The aristocracy can often look extremely pedestrian. He is coming back next week when the schools break up. Life in South Elmsall is dangerous at the moment. Bricks flying with the pickets, &c. Jane again tonight.

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Saturday July 14, 1984

 Moorhouse Inn

Bastile Day. Poor Louis XVI. How much more pleasant France would be with its monarchy intact. I can think of a few people here who could do with a chop from Madame Guillotine. A. Scargill to mention but a few. Dennis Skinner MP, Neil Gimmick MP, Fran O'Brien, Walter Mondale, the Rt Rev David Jenkins, Bishop of Durham, &c.

I worked today with Audrey. A dead afternoon. Audrey did this evening too, and it was similarly flat. 

Oh dear. I forgot to say last night but Jacq Sate and her brother Peter and a couple of friends came over for a few (drinks) after traveling up from the metropolis. _______. They stayed on afterwards. PC 49 came back with a clutch of elderly female relatives and a legal adviser, but I sent them packing.

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Friday July 13, 1984

 Full Moon

Moorhouse Inn

Friday the Thirteenth. A very busy day. Felt greatly recovered. Energetic, in fact. I made all those niggling phone calls I've been threatening to make. Oldham Signs, the cool shelf people, plumbers, &c. Spoke to Ken Gilbertson at Tadcaster about the '85 holidays and he told me only one manager had booked for next year so we should be OK. I went about afterwards with a spring in my step dreaming of the balmy breezes and golden beaches of Lanzarote in January. We do work hard and deserve a foreign trip. Ally looks so thin these days and her face is slightly pinched. Bless her, she has coped so well with the baby and the pub. People do comment on our rigorous lifestyle.

We have yet to have a visit from Fran O'Brien and suspect he is lying low until his blushes fade. Just Jane tonight. A busy one. Sammy slept and so Ally came down.

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Thursday July 12, 1984

 Bank Holiday in N. Ireland

Moorhouse Inn

Disgusting hangover at dawn. We woke at 6:30 when the cook banged on the door of our old room (No. 8). Bless her, she cooked us a breakfast of salty bacon and rubbery eggs. We ate alone and I passed everything on to Ally's plate. Felt ghastly. Left at 7 without seeing anyone. The dear Linnie - what memories. However, in the early hours I had gone up to bed, almost in tears, about Roy avoiding me. Or so I told Ally. I blame the brandy. Dancing with Marie to 'Two Tribes' by Frankie Goes to Hollywood was great fun. Back in Leeds for 8:30. My eyes like cherries. Felt awful all day. Serving food was a torture. I spewed up at 2:45 and went down with carrots in my hair to call last orders. Really shocking. Ally was angered and upset at my inability to fight off my hangover. She buzzed around as if we hadn't been up all night. Just Karen tonight. Margaret has gone to her brother's wedding in Kent. Not to chaotic.

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Wednesday July 11, 1984

 Moorhouse Inn

The Linthorpe.

To the Linthorpe Hotel this afternoon. We thought it had all been planned but we arrived at 4pm to find Roy in bed and Marie watching the racing on TV with a look of great surprise upon her face. She put the blame on the dog. Saxon, the ageing, vicious alsatian, is dying of a liver complaint, and William Barnes, the vicious, juvenile son, is on the loose again after assaulting Charlie. Roy came in wearing his vest and we had tea and biscuits and gossiped about LG and F.O'B. Samuel sat wide-eyed. We are told that Mags and Michael Gaskin are unofficially betrothed. We had drinks in the garden and then in the lounge. Crowded with revellers. Became quite legless. Lager and brandy do not mix. Giggled with Marie and Mags and did my usual dead miner lying on the picket line routine. Sore elbows. Ally slept with Samuel from about 11. To bed pissed after 2am. Depressed for some reason.

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Tuesday July 10, 1984

 Moorhouse Inn

Koo Stark.

Koo Stark is engaged to the Green Shield Stamps tycoon. She looks like a little _____, and I heave a sigh of relief that Prince Andrew didn't go too bananas and marry her. The gutter press says that Prince Philip put paid to Andrew's aspiration for Miss Stark's hand. Norman Parkinson's chatty wife says that the Duke of Edinburgh's 'Germanic' upbringing is the cause of the Andrew-Koo split.  Oh dear.

Jane again. Westminster Abbey is still standing, -- but watch this space.

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Monday July 9, 1984

 Moorhouse Inn

York Minster has burned down early today. - No doubt an act of God following the consecration of David Jenkins as Bishop of Durham in that fine old erection last week. The place will now be covered in scaffolding for the next 300 years. On the news we saw Dr Runcie, in a tin helmet, knee deep in debris.

Liver and onions. Busy. Ally came down to the bar at 10 o'clock. Jane seemed happier but I tell Ally we'll be saying goodbye to Miss Tudor soon. 

Sammy sits on his own - his sturdy back bolt upright.  He also holds his own spoon and rubs apricot mush into his face.

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Sunday July 8, 1984

 3rd Sunday after Trinity

Moorhouse Inn, Leeds

An afternoon at Club Street. Went to see Annie Whincup in her garden and then to Mary's. She's 70 tomorrow. Samuel sat farting upon her settee. Dog tired. Our little house looked well. We phoned people. Bessie was much happier than last week. _____. Graham has been promoted to the London area and wants to commute from Basingstoke. At least they'll be closer to Bessie. Phoned Mama and then Susie. They leave West End Terrace this week. Peter was watching Wimbledon - Connors v. McEnroe. 

Tonight: Jane was morose.

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Saturday July 7, 1984

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds

Hot. They (the mad punters) were all out in force. Didn't go downstairs in the afternoon and Audrey and Margaret ran around like idiots. Our busiest night tonight. 

News: The miners stroke goes on. Matthew Dixon (the alcoholic Scot who hails from Blairgowrie) says that Scargill is ordered by Russia to disrupt British industry. He (Scargill) won't get the better of Mrs T, I'm sure. Dixon says he was the 'under gardener' for Lady Fitzwilliam but resigned in a fit of boredom. 

Deceased: Lord Adam Granville Gordon, KCVO.

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Friday July 6, 1984

 Moorhouse Inn

Too hot. Worked flat out all day and in the tiny gaps in between we sat panting upstairs. A girl posing as a police woman, we've seen her before, came in tonight causing trouble. Undoubtedly a lesbian. Fisticuffs on the moor, &c. She will have to go.

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Thursday July 5, 1984

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds

Excessive heat. Stocktake by Ronnie. We have a £41 surplus, but Ronnie says it should be more now that we have the smaller pint glasses. Samuel screamed all day and we were frantic with lunches. The kitchen was like an inferno. Our customers were all sat around naked outside. The grass on Hunslet moor is all dead, &c. We read of drought and famine in the Daily Telegraph. Ronnie the stocktaker doubled as a babysitter during the mad furore over the lunch period. He says that the brawl last week is now common knowldege at brewery, and that both will be reprimanded. Oliver (Smith) has been informed. He thinks I will come out of it badly because I know too much, but Ally disagrees. FO'B was 'nice as pie' at the meeting at the brewery on Monday. We shall see. 

To the dentist at Rawdon at 4. No treatment necessary again. Yippee. On to Sue's afterwards to discuss Lanzarote. She was very agreeable. Benjamin, overdressed, was sweltering in his pram. Lynn and Dave go to Wales tomorrow with Chris and Julie. Home at 6:30 Busy. Karen phoned in sick. Ally came down to work too. Samuel flat out after yesterdays nightmare.

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