Sunday February 26, 1984

 Sexagesima

Moorhouse Inn, Leeds 11

Another quiet Sunday. I was up at dawn and cleaning the beer lines. Ally came down to lend a hand whilst Samuel slept soundly. She is looking forward to getting 'stuck in' in the bar. The pub needs a woman's touch. _____. The Piries came back from Aberdeen and he came snooping in supposedly to give me a key. It's my view that ex-landlords ought to be banned from revisiting their old pubs.

Roast chicken for lunch. Watched TV afterwards. Caught the end of a Bing Crosby movie, but did some channel hopping. Susan Hayward was in a harrowing film on the other side and I cannot decide whether or not she died at the end. 

It was Jane Tudor's first night. She is an attractive girl and should be good at raking in some of the male population. She did very well for a first night. Quiet until 9:30 and then a deluge of people. Hilda, Tony, Jill and Tim came in and stayed until after 12. We gave them a guided tour of the cellars and we had a couple of pints in the dimly lit lounge. ________. Very late to bed because of our visitors. The novelty will soon wear off and we'll soon be forgotten and ignored by our siblings and cronies. I really must ring Dave G and Dave L. They do not know we are here.

Takings: (B) 116.20, (L) £173.48

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Saturday February 25, 1984

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds 11

Samuel: gurgling more.

Samuel woke at 6 but after a feed we switched off and went back to bed until 9 which was naughty because I had so much to do. The traditional boiled egg followed and we managed to eat before Samuel woke. He takes pleasure in interrupting meals.

A quiet Saturday with no visits from kin or from friends. We half expected a visit from Sue and Peter, who have yet to see us at work in a public house. At 3:30 we wrapped Samuel up, bundled him into the car, and went in search of Makro, the wholesalers, but we wandered around quite lost. Leeds United were playing at home and so we hurried back for 5 o'clock to avoid the rabble. The great outdoors exhausted me and I nodded off in the armchair after tea and crumpets. Samuel is now gurgling more, almost trying to speak, sturdier too and managing the occasional smile of recognition. Some people cruelly say the smiles are only wind. I don't think so.

We haven't heard from Mum & Dad since they were here almost two weeks ago. Karen and Steve are spending this weekend at Horton-in-Ribblesdale, with Hayley. 

Bed after Peter Cushing. 

Takings: (B) £188.99, (L) £169.62.

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Friday February 24, 1984

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds 11

Ally was far from happy when I decided to trim my moustache over the sink and leave all the hairs glued to the porcelain. Surely, a true wife would have gathered them up and pressed them together and placed them in a locket to wear close to her heart until her dying day? It's the sort of thing a Jane Austen character would do, so why didn't she? Where has romance gone? On the subject of romance we have suffered something of a blow re our King-size pine bed. We saw one at Cheap 'n Cheerful yesterday and when Ally phoned the guy who makes the beds with our mattress measurements she was told 'Oh, we only make the standard double bed size'. So, we have lashed out on a £99 mattress that we now cannot use. Ally implored the bed-maker to reconsider and he went away to think about it. We still owe MM the money for the mattress.

Lunchtime passed smoothly. I did some of the cooking when Ally was feeding Samuel. Will he have a brother George? We are thinking about this already. Tobias is a good name too. Ally surprised me by saying she'd like a Harry.  Oh dear. Clementine remains the top girls choice.

Worked flat out 5:30 to 11:30. Chaotic. Margaret (Milne) says it's the busiest Friday here since Christmas. Even the lounge bar was deep with thirsty customers praising my ale. Is it usual practice to praise a new landlord's beer? People do say that it has improved since Pirie's departure. I suppose they will say the same about me and my ale when I am no more. Sausage sandwiches and bed at 12:30.

Takings: (B) 211.62, (L) £189.37

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Thursday February 23, 1984

 Busy busy. Hurry hurry. Samuel is six weeks old today. Ally sang 'Happy Birthday' at breakfast time. I am feeling settled now and find the Moorhouse so easy after the Why Not, although some lads in the tap room need watching.

This afternoon we dashed home to Bradford to kidnap the Staffordshire pot dogs, lamps and cushions. The place is quite stripped now but we refuse to become sad or nostalgic about Club Street. Times have to change, don't they? We have to move on. We cannot be expected to spend decades of our lives in that declining Bradford suburb. I see myself in ten years time in a tiny, ramshackle of a pub in the middle of rolling countryside with Ally looking lovelier than ever, and four children upstairs playing Ludo with a floppy dog at their feet. How close am I with this? 

To Cheap 'n Cheerful too. Hung pictures tonight. The tatty landing at the top of the stairs is now a gallery of pictures. Ally could make Spandau prison comfy. We have been given a leaflet on birth control. Something about the rhythm method. I suppose you make love to Glenn Miller? Oh dear.

Takings: (B) £215, (L) £125

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Wednesday February 22, 1984

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds 11

Exhausted. Up at 7 o'clock but could do no work and so I wallowed in a hot bath and then sat over breakfast and the Daily Telegraph until 9:30. Disgusting really with my beer cellar looking like downtown Beirut. 

Breakfast TV: Selina Scott doesn't seem to know the difference between corporal and capital punishment. Katie Rabett dominates the funnies. Pictures of the future Duchess of York in fishnet stockings and French knickers cannot be right. I am a strait-laced sod at times. The hideous Willie Hamilton MP is to introduce a Bill to abolish hereditary peerages primarily to stop Mark Thatcher becoming the 2nd Earl of Finchley after the death of Margaret, Countess of Finchley, KG. Silly old pillock.

Ally in a green t-shirt looking divine. She's having her six week check up - a post-natal thing. ________. We both did the food today and I didn't go into the bar. We took a meagre £6 on sausages and chips, &c.

Michael Brown.

We went to the clinic at 3:30. Samuel was weighed and inspected by a doctor. He's 10lb 1oz. Excellent. He behaved well and didn't whimper or bawl. ___________. Then Ally saw Dr Danks and had a post-natal inspection. It was over in minutes. She's a brave old stick. 

Bessie phoned. They go to Lanzarote tomorrow.
Michael Brown and Roger Ratcliffe came here at 7:30 and took me on a pub crawl around old Hunslet. The Garden Gate is a breathtaking example of Victoriana. The three of us sat over halves of bitter glued to 'Coronation Street'. It was so good to see them both after so long. Michael is such a great wit. Roger is now the Sunday Times northern correspondent. Back for 9:30. Ate with Ally at 10. Relaxation.

Takings: (B) £129, (L) 113.

-=-

Tuesday February 21, 1984

 Moorhouse Inn ...

The flurry of snow is gone. A quiet day in the bars. We sold only £3 worth of lunches, but it's better than nowt. 

Prince Andrew's new girlfriend is Katie Rabett, daughter of an Ealing gynaecologist, and a model turned actress. Watch this space.

Bessie phoned to say that cousin Patricia is with child and that cousin Margaret has left home. Is she now dwelling with PC 49? 

Gave interviews for the bar job vacancy. Carl White, 18, unsuitable. Andrew Cunningham, 20, looks like one half of Torvill & Dean, but I can't decide which half. Michael McLaughlin, 19, doubtful, and friendly Jane Tudor, pretty and enthusiastic. She starts on Sunday.

It was Charlie's last night. If he's a thief then I'm Anna Neagle. A pleasant atmosphere reigned tonight. I am going to enjoy living here. 'Mister Oliver' came at 7:30 and we chatted for 15 minutes. He knew all about Samuel and asked whether the brewery had influenced the name. I told him that my great-great grandpapa was so named. He enquired about the Why Not and commented: 'Ah well, you have had your Teesside stint'. It must be a test. He dashed out leaving me cheerful. 

Samuel refused to be put down and screamed until nearly 2am. Ally was at the end of her tether. This difficult patch cannot go on much longer ... can it?

Takings: (B) £115, (L) £121

-=-

Monday February 20, 1984

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds 11, &c

Washington's Birthday Observance

A stocktake showed a £76 defecit. Shit.

Snow. Yes it's back here. The scandal (news)papers reveal that Prince Andrew celebrated his 24th birthday at the weekend by taking the winsome Carolyn Herbert  to Covent Garden. Daughter of Lord Porchester and eminently suitable. I feel sure that the prince will not have a prolonged bachelorhood as the Prince of Wales did. 

Samuel screamed the place down. Wrapped in white we took him to the bank. The Piries never banked on Mondays. We deposited £1,349.

Toasted sandwiches went out on the lunchtime menu and went down well. I was on edge all day waiting for a visit from 'Mister Oliver' (Smith). L. Gledhill warned me on Saturday that the brewery chief could drop in at any time. 

Joan Parkinson worked tonight. She chatted much about her Thalidomide son who is 24. She lives on her nerves. Our advert for part-time staff was in the EP and our dinner was ruined by the telephone. A pleasant sounding girl from Morley called Jane Tudor, as in Henry, phoned. She'll get the job. Seeing her tomorrow. 

Hilda and Tony walked in at 9 o'clock bearing a beautiful red suit for Samuel. _______. We gave them a few drinks and showed them around. Sausage sandwiches at midnight and bed.

Takings: (B) £124, (L) £86.

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