Sunday June 30, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

4th Sunday after Trinity

John, Sheila, Me & Sam, Dad, Janet, Arnold.

Early start. We got to Horton for 10:30. Dull, overcast. Dad, John, Sheila, Arnold and Janet were having breakfast together. We joined them for coffee laced with whisky. We discussed Ruth Upton's birth certificate. ________. My Uncle John bronzed and handsome as ever. Very 1950s Hollywood. Uncle Arnold is a deep sort of chap, peculiarly likeable. They all refer to him as 'Our Bill' for some reason, The brothers would all make very good MPs. Great orators. We walked to the newsagents and both Dad and John came out with a Sunday Telegraph. At Waltergarth we had lashings of wine and a late dinner, three chickens in fact. It was odd and disconcerting seeing Sheila and Janet pottering in the kitchen with Mum's things. Lynn, David, Thomas and Katie appeared (Frances was at a kid's party). (Uncle) John has always been obsessed with Lynn. He idolises her. Samuel did a lot of showing off. Lynn left at 6, followed by Arnold and Janet at 9. We sat chatting until 11. The wine left me with an enormous headache. (Uncle) John going on the rampage about the British banking system. 

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Saturday June 29, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

Mr Humphrey Smith married Miss Julia Gladstone today and we were surprised to receive an invitation from his mother 'Mrs Geoffrey Smith and the Directors of Sam. Smith's' for lunch at the family home at Oxton Hall, Tadcaster, on July 24, to celebrate this great dynastic occurrence. It is so good of the company to do this. That is what is so good about working for a family business. So personal, &c.  Tonight we 'taped' 'Dysentery' (as I call the series Dynasty). It is the last episode until September. Blake Carrington's dad has died in Indonesia. To bed with books. I am plodding through 'George V'. Very entertaining. Didn't phone Dad because he is entertaining his brothers in Settle.

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Friday June 28, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

A man from DER brought us a video machine for us to play with over the weekend. Not that we'll have much chance. We watched our wedding video which was a jolt. Mum's bright "Hello Darling, it's Grannie" (to Catherine) is now the only known recording of her voice. Phoned Dad. He went back to Horton yesterday afternoon. He called at Hanson's, the stonemason, en route. The headstone will take six weeks. John and Sheila have phoned to confirm they will be visiting him tomorrow. Arnold & Janet too. _______.

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Thursday June 27, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

Our fourth wedding anniversary. Shock, horror. We exchanged cards in bed. No personal presents were swapped because the plethora of pine and the tv set is going to be our gift to each other. We live in grand surroundings now. Ally wants Laura Ashley festoon blinds hanging in the bedroom, but they'll cost £150 and the things will not transfer from the Moorhouse if and when we leave. Sceptical. Messed around until late. We went to Guiseley at 12 via a florist where we bought Sue a spray. At Thorpe Lane we found them tucking in to lunch. Poor Sue has heavy eyes and looks washed out. She only escaped from hospital at 10am. Lynn and her bronzed infants appeared and we went out into the garden and Grandpa Rhodes provided wheelbarrow rides for a wild, hysterical bunch of children. A make-shift tea party on the lawn followed. Goose pimples galore. Home to the pub exhausted at 8 after a couple of hours at Lynn's.

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Wednesday June 26, 1985

Moorhouse Inn

Susan had a scan at the hospital (Otley?) and as she suspected something is wrong, but it isn't a reappearance of the hydatiform mole. It seems that the tiny baby has died in the womb. Off she went with Dad to the Clarendon Wing this afternoon _________. Peter visited this evening. We are going to Guiseley tomorrow. Benjamin is one. 

St Giles.

A very large TV appeared from DER. We are having it on trial for a few days. We sat watching 'Dallas' open mouthed, wide eyed,  and bushy tailed at the glorious , breath-taking splash of colour. 

Quiet downstairs. Phoned Donna Lea re my cloudy ale. I have nothing to hide. Unlike my ale, my conscience is clear. She will visit and take samples, &c. 

Did I ever mention that Saint Giles was a cripple? Well, he was.

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Tuesday June 25, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

I feel down in the dumps. Worrying about my Old Brewery Bitter. Is it really up to scratch? Colin Black's words are ringing in my ears: "If you are not happy with it for God's sake return it". This I have done, and now my cellar is spartan. 

Dad went back to Guiseley to see Susan. He is going to help out until she has her pregnancy confirmed or quashed. ________. Dad is going to Wales with Lynn and Dave. Two weeks in Tenby isn't my idea of fun. Poor Dad forgot his luggage when he came for the weekend and so he borrowed John's things. Hw went away today wearing one of my old shirts. 

Our chairman (Humphrey Smith) marries on Saturday up in Dumfriesshire. All the managers gave a £1 at the managers meeting for a joint present to the boss and his bride. Leslie Gledhill joked about my suit saying he could have one made from my lapels alone. I set fashion I do not follow it.

Revoltingly quiet this evening. Just Janet. She needs motivating. Ally fumes because the girl stands around, arms folded, doing nowt. But we can only be responsible for that.

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Monday June 24, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

Dad came over in the afternoon from Guiseley looking better than he did yesterday. He's so lost though. Mum always provided such gaiety. Will Dad ever get that sparkle back? Dad says Susan isn't at all well and is having a scan on Wednesday. Is it a reappearance of a hydatiform mole? She has been passing blood &c, and describes the discharge as 'stringy'. Dad does worry. We had a few pints and looked at headstones (again). The choice was finally made. 

The Angel & White Horse

We went to Tadcaster at 5:15 leaving Dad to bath Samuel and to put him to bed. At Taddy it was a large gathering of pub managers in the brewery canteen. To our surprise Chris Wills appeared. He accused the brewery of diluting his ale at source before he received it. We are told we are to have a seven per cent pay rise. Can't complain. Afterwards to the Angel (and White Horse). I felt pissed drinking beer. Found myself talking to the landlord of the Norman at Normanton. The brewery wives always look so brassy, you know typical landlady types. My wife is so fresh, young and so very uncommon. Saw LG and C. Black. Very relaxed. To Horsforth afterwards. I was drunk as a skunk. The 'Inside Out' or 'Outside Inn' or whatever you call it was shut. On to Jacomelli's. Steak, &c. Ally not too pleased about the dinner. Home at 11. David was watching Billy Joel on the telly. We have spent our bonus on a tv cabinet (pine), bed for Sam (pine) and a chest of drawers for Sam (pine).

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Sunday June 23, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

3rd Sunday after Trinity

Catherine Elizabeth Mary is 6. Ally woke very grumpy. She gets over tired. I went to get Samuel some breakfast and we played with his toys. I could hear Anne, our aged cleaner, banging away below. I presumed it must be Anne. For all I know it might be Myra Hindley. 

The Sunday Telegraph was smeared in strawberry jam. I suppose it's the price one pays for having children. Samuel's talking is coming along great guns. He can now speak numerous words and will have a go at anything. Mummy is still a difficult one. Dull, overcast sort of day. Over to Menston (to see our niece on her birthday) via the cemetery at 3:30. David has nailed a large name plate into Mum's grave. "N.Rhodes" in large black letters like a car number plate. I muttered a few words to the occupant below. To Leathley Crescent. It was full of children, all the grandchildren except Hannah. Lynn and Dave organised party games - they seem to have a forte for it. I sat in the kitchen thumbing through a catalogue of headstones. How very ghastly and bizarre Lynn and John suggested we 'buy the cheapest', but that was never Mum's idea of how to carry on. I selected one, not too flash, but reasonably priced. We returned home after 5, very jaded. Together my family is a daunting bunch. Dad's eyes were like piss holes in the snow. He'd been out on the tiles with John & Janette last night. Very busy evening. Gary in.

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Saturday June 22, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

Paul Edwards is 21 today. Ally and Samuel went to Morrison's at 11 and I stood around in the pub which was dead, very much like Scholemoor cemetery. The TV was blaring in the tap room. Old Jim and George were watching a 1963 film about the Spanish Armada starring Christopher Lee. When Margaret came in to work I went off and made some cheese on toast. Jack Collett, in his corner, was having trouble with a crossword. 'Saint Giles was one' is the clue and it is C _ _ _ P _E. Was St Giles a cripple? or perhaps a 'clippie'? He has a cathedral named after him in Edinburgh, if that helps. Mind you, we could have several saints answering to Giles. I do wish I had my Brewer's with me.

Ally came back at 1pm. Very animated. She has visited our pine dealer. Yes, she has found a TV and video cabinet for £220. I squealed with delight. It looks as though I am getting the 'go ahead' at last. She has bought Samuel a pine frame for a single bed (£55). Bang goes the bonus from the brewery. Did I ever tell you about my bonus? I wasn't expecting one. Donna Lea always has such a long face, but she appeared and told us of our good fortune yesterday. I cannot say exactly how much but it is worth double my monthly salary. 

This afternoon Ally took me to look at the Tv cabinet - superb. We then went to Valance's and Schofield's looking at TVs and videos. Just looking.

Phoned Lynn. They have been looking for mirrors. Big gilt framed ones. Quiet evening. Margaret worked both sessions today.

Bed at 12 with 'George V'. Ally thumbing through baby magazines. She is grumpy about something.

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Friday June 21, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

Longest Day

Wet. Served no lunches. Well, perhaps two toasties. Abysmal. And to think we pay a kitchen assistant £20 a week. 

Game Cock Inn.

Dad phoned at 7:30pm to say he was going out for a walk so I wouldn't worry if I phoned Waltergarth and received no answer. Uncle Arnold joined him for lunch today. They went to the Game Cock Inn at Austwick. John and Sheila are back in the country and Dad has invited them to Waltergarth next weekend. Arnold will be going too and Dad is thinking about taking them to the Little House restaurant in Settle. A good idea. _________________. 

Busy night. I sat in the tap room. Ally worked with Gary until 10. Edna is back on form. Her laugh is so very infectious. Mavis Adams is now a regular. Funny, but she never came in when Archie was here.

Later, watched Joan Collins in 'The Bitch'. Dreadful.

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Thursday June 20, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

Our day off until 5:30pm. We slept late and then dashed to Club St for 10am. A warm, sunny day. I pottered in the garden. Sam followed me indiscriminately tearing up the shrubs and flowers, and he took the occasional painful tumble on the uneven pathway. Upstairs I viewed the bedroom for the first time since Mum vacated it on May 6. ________. I took Samuel out for a walk in his pushchair and to Scholemoor cemetery to assess the tombstones. I fancy white marble. Mum wouldn't have wanted anything 'flash'. Ally went to Linfood for eggs and cheese. We returned to the pub quite knackered at 5. 

Janet phoned at 7:55 to say she has an upset tummy and wont be coming to work and so Ally and I did the evening session alone. We had a good time really._________. To bed with 'George V' by Kenneth Rose. Very perplexed about His Majesty's abandonment of Tsar Nicholas in 1917. We'll never know the full tale.

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Wednesday June 19, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

Mum and Dad's 31st wedding anniversary. I woke at 7:15 to hear Samuel bawling. I went to him and he was sat in his cot pointing at the lump in the double bed in the corner of his room. It was of course the recumbent form of his sleeping grandfather. We left the room without waking the old man. We had bacon sandwiches at 9. A relaxed affair. We didn't mention the anniversary. What can we possibly say? Lynn phoned at 9:30. They are going to the cemetery together at 3 with flowers and then Dad is going on alone to Horton calling first at a stonemason in Ilkley. 

Later Dad took Samuel out to the park. He looked such a dot in his red T-shirt. He came back exhausted, and by lunchtime the baby was worn out. Dad left at 2. I gave him some words for Mr Hanson (stonemason) :-

"Sacred to the Memory of NORA, beloved wife of Lawrence Rhodes, born 2 Jan 1935 died 18 May 1985." 

At 7 Dad phoned to say he has collected a tomb stone brochure. Prices vary from £250 to £2000. He insisted that my words are used because nowadays it isn't the done thing to include the date of birth on the stone and that the age at death is the norm. I want it included because Mum and Dad have the same birthday, and one day, without being morbid, it will make a poignant feature to the memorial. He said the cemetery was a depressing sight. Both he and Lynn had a good weep. They laid flowers and placed a wooden marker on the grave. He is alone tonight. His boiler is knackered again.

Our night off. A marble topped chest arrived today. We rearranged the sitting room to accommodate it. A domestic pub-free evening. Retired at 11:55pm.

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Tuesday June 18, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

Waterloo Day. Royal Ascot, &c. Garter processions. Peerage news: a certain Mr Patrick Hope-Johnstone is claiming the dormant earldom of Annandale & Hartfell this week. He's a scion of Lord Linlithgow's family. Lady Camilla Fane, a former so-called 'possible bride' for the Prince of Wales, has become engaged to a Mr Hipwood. Her Papa (Lord Westmorland) is Master of the Horse. 

We had a visit over luncheon from Rob and Ryan Piper. They sat in the lounge and we discussed the Red Lion Watering of the Beer Scandal. He tells me that L. Gledhill is coming back as our area manager. That must account for his visit last week. Ally brought Samuel down to the bar to play with Ryan. Sam was more interested in Ben Rycroft's walking stick. Rob left at 2. We sat with a lager. Dad came in looking tired and pale. When staying with Lynn she gets him out of bed at 7:15 and calls it a 'lie in'. We had rabbit pie for lunch. This evening we sat with Werner, the little POW from Cologne, and Dad talked to him about his days as a military policeman in Hamburg and Hanover. It was the first time I had heard some of the stories. Upstairs at 11 for coffee and large sandwiches.

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Monday June 17, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

The Bakers.

I went driving with Karen H at 9. My first lesson in a month. I do need some practice, not just my weekly £6.50 jaunts. My test is in nine weeks. Dad, staying with Lynn, set out walking into Guiseley with Katie, supposedly to settle his bill with the undertaker, but she became hysterical in the bank, and she walked around Guiseley wailing uncontrollably, his task unfulfilled. The poor Baker girls are forbidden to sleep in the day, and Dad blames this lack of sleep, the exhaustion, on their violent tempers. He received his police insurance money for Mum today (£1700). He has increased his own cover by £1000 taking it to £5000. It matures when he is 60 (in 1994) when it will have to be transferred. I am named as his executor or beneficiary. He can only name one. Jack Denison's bill was remarkable. We expected it to be £1000, but he charged just over £500. Dad says he chose that particular undertaker because, as a policeman, he has observed him at work and says he has always found him a 'gentleman' behind the scenes treating his corpses always with the greatest respect. Some undertakers must be appalling and slapdash.

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Sunday June 16, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

2nd Sunday after Trinity

Father's Day

The £1: still tucked in the journal pages.

Samuel gave a card and a crumpled £1 note. I might save it forever. I certainly cannot buy anything of value with it. At first I thought Ally had forgotten but after breakfast, made by me incidentally, I found the little envelope tucked behind the telephone. 

To John's at Menston. Then to Guiseley. Janette was just getting up and both had forgotten we were expected. ____. Catherine has had a severe haircut. On to Sue's. They were sitting down to lunch. Dad was there and we gave him a card, but left after half an hour. I sprawled on the floor clutching an apricot wine feeling quite miserable. Sue and Pete had been to the cemetery and the sight of mud and dead flowers broke her up so much so that she says she doesn't ever want to return. Dad says this is the problem with burials. People, he says, feel as though they should visit and then feel guilty when they don't. Dad asks me to decide upon the wording to go on the headstone.  A busy night. Just Gary and I. Ally stayed above.

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Saturday June 15, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

The official birthday of HM. Honours, Trooping the Colour, &c. I have taken little interest in the activities of our dear Queen this year. Everything overshadowed by domestic events. This morning I couldn't be bothered listening to Tom Fleming going on and on broadcasting from Horse Guards Parade. HM was on the news earlier this week unveiling a Falklands war memorial at St Paul's.

No real bombshells in the birthday honours list. Most of the victims from last October's Brighton bomb tragedy have collected gongs. Bob Mellish is a peer, and a poet from Hull becomes a Companion of Honour. Nothing for me. 

Ally and Samuel went to Club St to weed the garden. I haven't been inside since Mum left the place. Ally did a lot of shopping afterwards. Four weeks since Mum died. Dad will be on top of Ingleborough with John this afternoon. 

Jill and Tim came in at 9 o'clock and we drank with them until almost 2am. Ally regrets such late nights as she takes days to catch up on her sleep and recover. I had alcohol. I have been drinking only minerals at the Moorhouse. Watching my weight, and there's nothing worse than a pissed up publican.

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Friday June 14, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds 11

A cellar service man called in from the brewery at lunchtime and reported that Chris and Elaine Wills have just been fired for returning a cask of Old Brewery Bitter to Tadcaster which contained 20 per cent water. Silly bugger. It must be a very recent sacking because they were at the Gaston Ladies Darts final on Wednesday, where our own Vicky Pearson was defeated. Only Jim Precious accompanied her. The Moorhouse has never been very 'sporty'. A busy lunch. Teri (the cook) needs some motivation. No menus on the blackboards were displayed in our absence and a pound of three week old roast beef crawled out of the fridge to greet us this morning. It was positively green. Oh dear.

Dave L is 30 today. He will not enjoy this anniversary. It might not complement his Mohican hairstyle and trendy image. I sent him a postcard of the Ribble Head viaduct as a birthday greeting. He ceased from sending greeting cards some years ago. He is my oldest friend. Eighteen years, in fact.

A busy pm. Much merry-making in the tap room. A festive air in fact. A slow-witted old woman consumed about a dozen 'snowballs' demolishing almost a bottle of Advocaat. Yuk. 

We are now going all out to produce another baby in '86. God willing. Samuel really needs a playmate. Susan has seen a doc who says she is due on January 1st. Dad jokes that the baby could come any time before next Easter. Sue is always way out with dates. _______.

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Thursday June 13, 1985

 Waltergarth

A fine morning. We had to be up at 6:30 to prepare for our journey home. Ally had a bath and then made breakfast. Dad looked sad. What will he do with himself when we are gone and he is left alone? We drove off just after 8am. To Leeds for 9:30. As we drove down Admiral Street a bloody van threw itself into reverse and backed into us denting the number plate. Ally's first bump in a decade. The attitude of the van driver was frustrating. He explained he could not be liable because "you can't expect me to see a little mini metro out of the back of this thing". He looked at Ally and sneered: "women drivers". Offensive bastard. Ron Brooks, the stock-taker, escaped as we arrived. He was going to the Butcher's Arms at Pudsey and then returned to us to do a print-out of the stock at lunchtime. A £10 surplus. The place was a general mess. Someone has scratched their initials into our polished mahogany table. The beer cellar looked like Hiroshima. We are told that L. Gledhill and Colin Black were here snooping around yesterday. Coming home after a holiday is the worst aspect of pub life. Totally disorientated. The customers and staff singing the praises of the relief manager. "He had everyone out for ten past eleven", &c. He doesn't have customers he wants to keep a hold of though, does he? A relief manager is free to be a Mussolini. I have to be slightly more sensitive. An atrociously quiet evening. Phoned Dad. He seemed lost.

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Wednesday June 12, 1985

 Waltergarth, Horton-in-Ribblesdale

Bright, but wet. We went with Dad to Hawes. Beautiful countryside. We walked around the village looking at pub menus. Samuel toddled along with his grandad. We went into a pub - the name escapes me - and we had rabbit pie. Samuel had an enormous sausage which looked to be raw in the middle. Pink. Driving back to Ribblehead we had a burst tyre. Dad found the spare and changed it. Later, Dad, Sam and I played in the garden. Dad blowing down a large tube, an old water pipe, making noises reminiscent of those similar to the ones made by Sir Rolf Harris, that ancient Australian musician. Samuel then played with a spade digging holes on the drive. He got very wet, and cold too. Tonight we just sat with mushroom soup watching TV. Mum's homemade soup out of the freezer, made last autumn. Dad then ate the last piece of fruit cake that Mum had made. We watched 'Dallas' and went to bed early. Well, 11pm. Dad was better this evening. News: The Waleses attended the new (James) Bond premiere, but we didn't bother watching.

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Tuesday June 11, 1985

 Waltergarth

Awful weather. We sat at Waltergarth by a blazing fire. Mum saved old newspapers and I went through them clipping out the relevant items. Birth announcements, engagements, weddings, &c. It was easier to do than I imagined. Ally doesn't feel guilty going through Mum's possessions. Mum would have wanted us to do it. Afterwards, when Samuel was asleep and after I had consumed a large whisky, Ally and I went to Settle. Dad wanted some new lampshades. We didn't find any. Shopkeepers openly laughed when we asked for them. We spotted a nice little restaurant and decided to go back there tonight. We booked for 8:30. Dad looked particularly sad today. He says that he and Mum once tried to book a table at the Little House Restaurant (for that is the place), but it was full. We dressed, had a drink with Dad and went to dine. To Fred's first. Ally in her blue frock. A beautiful dinner. Home for 11. Dad was in his dressing gown. We could hear him sobbing in his dark bedroom. What a hopeless, bleak situation.

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Monday June 10, 1985

 Waltergarth

Phil the Greek is 64 today. 

We left Samuel with his grandad and went to Skipton for an hour so. Market Day. Returned for lunch to Waltergarth without having bought a thing. We do this quite a lot. Shopping and coming empty handed. Our obsession with anything made of pine is steadily growing. Ally tells me she has bought a pine wash stand at Cheap 'n Cheerful before we came away and it has to be collected on our return.

Tonight. We found Dad in the bedroom rummaging through cupboards and so we assisted. He bagged up lots of Mum's clothes with the intention of posting them to Oxfam or somewhere. Most of the stuff too good to destroy. So many memories. Mum kept every greeting card she had received since about 1980. Some of Dad's cards go back thirty years. The photographs too. Dad has taken 500 snaps in the three years since going to Yugoslavia on May 17, 1982.

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