Sunday August 5, 1984

 7th Sunday after Trinity

Moorhouse Inn

We slept until 9am. Ally got up to look Samuel who was playing with his elephant, looking bored, but not distressed. I turned over and slept until 10. Ally called me for a full-English repast. She dislikes cooking breakfast and I cannot remember the last time I had one handed to me, on a plate, as it were. _______.

This afternoon to Guiseley to see Lynn. Dave, predictably, was playing with his erection (the ongoing extension) and we were ushered into the dismal dining room which is like the chateau d'If. Lynn was chatty and bubbly. Audrey and Henry Baker appeared from holidaying in the Lake District. She was fat and cheerful despite the crutches. Afterwards, over cups of tea, Lynn spoke of her loathing of motherhood - splutter - and that David and Peter are to have vasectomies soon. My God they've all gone mad. Called at Sue's but they are spending the day in Scarborough. Home for 5. Downstairs tonight mixing in the lounge again.

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Saturday August 4, 1984

 Moorhouse Inn

Ally feels dreadful today but for some strange reason I am free of the usual hangover. We sat upstairs in a collapsed state this afternoon watching old films. The 1939 version of 'Goodbye Mister Chips' with Robert Donat and then 'The Titfield Thunderbolt'. A miserable wet day. Ally sprawled on the settee complaining about Robert Donat's performance. A dead evening. We sat with Albert and Kitty Taylor listening to their potted biographies. From Jamaica to Hunslet and back. Andy and Mavis worked. Stone dead. We cleared up afterwards. Totally bushed.

Queen Elizabeth The Queen Mother is 84 today. We hear that she spent two days in hospital this week undergoing tests. I see in the columns of the DT that Olivia Mulholland, her woman of the bedchamber for 34 years, died on Thursday aged 82. This must be a blow to HM. We see her on the news in the drizzle at Clarence House. The crowd there gets bigger every year. We still have to idea where HM was born. Naughty Lord Strathmore told the registrar that she was born at St Paul's Walden, Herts, but this has recently been denied. 

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Friday August 3, 1984

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds

David G is 30 today and Janette is 20. Poor Janette. I keep thinking of her and 'mad' Jock Drysdale and her almost Dickensian childhood. As a child I was sheltered from the likes of one-eyed maniacs with murderous tendencies and considering this Janette has turned out remarkably well.

So quiet today. Few lunches. This makes Ally ill humoured. Tonight we went down and mixed with the folk in the lounge. Mixing can sometimes be tiresome. We are basically insular people. Sometimes I find it hard to walk into a room and speak to people. Still, it has to be done. Audrey, Terry, Bernadette and Frank occupy us, along with old Reg, Alice, &c. Maureen came in and at 11:30 we had a few of them back for a 'stoppyback'. All staff really apart from Bernie and Frank. A giggle. Did a bit of singing. ________. To bed at 1:30am. Ally pissed.

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Thursday August 2, 1984

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds

Heavy rain. A miserable old sod came in and says we really need the rain because his runner beans are dry. So we all have to suffer for the sake of one vegetable patch. My headache persisted and I lay quietly moaning listening to Ray Moore on the radio. Out to Morrison's at 10. £17 on food provisions. Tonight we sat upstairs and left Margaret and Karen below. It seemed quiet enough. Karen was looking hounded and thinks we have it in for her. She is right of course. She has agreed to work next Tuesday because she wants to do it, but sniffed and looked undecided when I asked if she'd do it permanently. This is disgraceful. Roy Barnes wouldn't put up with it and give her her marching orders. I must be soft in the head. I have been reading some blurb about the Queen Mother in the Daily Express, last Tuesday's paper. Fairy stories. The Queen weeding her mother's garden at weekends because the old Queen cannot find a gardener. The Daily Express is sadly going down.

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Wednesday August 1, 1984

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds

Lingered over breakfast. The ghastly Olympics on breakfast tv. Tiny Chinese athletes springing around on bars. Not my idea of fun. Ally though is quite sports minded. She did everything at school. You know, hockey and the likes. Ann Wilkinson is cleaning in the bar downstairs, puffing and panting as she goes. One day I'm sure she'll keel over on the job. Pushing 71 she is. __________. Andy Sanderson came at 5:15 and I showed him the ropes until 8. He did well but was as nervous as a rabbit. Or is a rabbit frightened? The place was swimming with spilled beer, but I think he'll do well. He's a very young 22 year-old. Audrey was in at 8 snapping like an old Welsh corgi. Ally worked until after 9 when Samuel woke. I had a crashing headache and climbed in to bed at 11.

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Tuesday July 31, 1984

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds

Stocktake and dray day. Young Mick Thompson came. - Tadcaster's peroxide answer to Boy George. We have a £28 surplus, and so once again we are in the clear. However, with our new 20 ounce glasses the surplus should be greater. Ally went off at 2 for a trim. Her last perm was 'dead' and she was irritated by it. Karen Pratt is goint to have to go. She came in tonight and was hostile about giving up Wednesdays saying she enjoys working with Audrey and doesn't want to work alone. She doesn't seem to realise that she works for my benefit, not hers. Jane drove off into the night at 11 never to be seen again, and Karen left undecided but really she has no choice. She's far too cheeky for my taste. In fact she lives up to her name, and by that I do not mean Karen. Upstairs I related this to Ally and we decide to get someone else for Tuesday and cut Karen down to one night a week. Staff, what a problem they are. The bloody Olympics have started.

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Monday July 30, 1984

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds

Lounge bar.

Samuel is now grown up and has moved out of our bedroom into his own vast domain. These things have to happen. He'll be going to university next I suppose, then be called to the Bar , then to Parliament and finally to Number 10. Our future daughter will of course marry Prince William of Wales. I intend spening my retirement at Buckingham Palace garden parties. We were supposed to be entertaining Sue and Pete tomorrow but she has canceled because on Wednesday they go to Horton (in Ribblesdale). Pity really because we have Jane and Karen working. Karen is going to have to switch  working to Tuesday because we are not taking Wednesday as a day off. This will put the cat among the pigeons. 

Audrey worked for Maureen tonight. _______. Felt refreshed tonight because this afternoon we went to bed for an hour. Bessie phoned but Ally was asleep and I didn't bother waking her.

News: A stray cow on a Scottish railway line has caused the death of 13 people. Thespian James Mason is no more. The Earl of Buchan, 85, is dead too. 

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