Tuesday September 4, 1984

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds

We are very cross about Peter Nason. Like lots of people - he has an aversion to credit. I see nothing wrong with accepting a loan from a relative, do you? I was putting on no charges or added interest and didn't expect to be paid back until 1987, or even early in the next century. But oh no Peter has to afford and to pay for everything himself. Pride. It's a tiresome thing. Will 21 Thorpe Lane become theirs? Ally thinks the holiday is now spoiled because Samuel would have had the company of his cousins, and now he'll be the only child there.

Ally and I worked tonight without staff. Karen is away in the Lake District. We annoy our customers because we are so unpredictable in our actions. The OAPs are nervous and edgy.

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Monday September 3, 1984

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds

Labor Day, USA & Canada

Very wet later on. Torrential in fact.  Who cares about 'Labor Day'? It's also the anniversary of the outbreak of the Second World War in 1939 and of the marriage of Eileen Byram and Michael Robertshaw in 1977. We spoke to (uncle) John in Lanzarote. Everything sounds quite marvellous. Afterwards we  fret about Sue's decision not to join us. As one last act of desperation we went to Guiseley to see Susie. She gave us coffee and trimmed my hair and spoke of Peter's nightmare that he is going grey. I offered to lend then £340 for the flights to the Canaries and accomodation (Christopher and Ben go free) and she sounded willing, but on phoning Peter he grumpily declined my offer. We went away dejected. Bugger them, anyway.

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Sunday September 2, 1984

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds

11th Sunday after Trinity

Sunday again. Disorganised as usual. We sat upstairs not knowing quite what to do with ourselves. Ally in a vitriolic mood, pacing around like a puma. From the window we spied Marlene, Frank, Mabel and the children drinking in the car. They assumed we were out because our car was nowhere to be seen. (It was locked in the garage). They came up. Samuel showed them his tricks and how he can now clap hands, &c. Auntie Mabel dotes on babies. Marlene invited us to a barbecue tonight and we went over to Hough Side Road at 6 to partake in the outdoor feast. (Auntie Mabel was at at home at St Lawrence Close). We sat in the garden until 8:30 and then returned to to the busy pub. We saw the wilting staff afterwards.

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Saturday September 1, 1984

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds

We went shopping to town which was revoltingly busy. What fools we are. Afterwards we drove to Guiseley to see baby Thomas. I was close to collapse with hunger and stopped for fish and chips en route. We bought some (just for me) and Ally drove along whilst I ate them in the car. Samuel began to yelp with hunger too, and Ally was swerving all over the road helping herself to chunks of my hot, tempting fried fish. At Thorpefields we were herded together in the dining room. The lounge, or sitting room, is now declared 'out of bounds'. Frances and Katie were having hysterics about having to wear matching kilts, presents from Chris and Julie. I don't blame them. Kilts should only ever be worn by Scotsmen. I am very clear cut about this. They gossip. John has bought a £4,000 car. I hope this doesn't affect our Lanzarote plans. I held the baby. He makes Samuel look like a giant. You should see Samuel sitting in his car seat. Hi sits like the Queen Mother in a state landau. Enchanting. Just Mavis in tonight. So tiny, like the figure on a wedding cake.

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Friday August 31, 1984

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds

Cousin Reggie is 18 today.

Once again Ally played darts with Dave the Grave - it's a feature of Friday evenings now.  Edna, upon her bar stool, says she is depressed because she is dying of cancer. How morbid can you get? Why come out drinking with all that stress and worry upon your shoulders? 

We have decided to have a 'tramps convention' fancy dress. Nobody will take a blind bit of notice of it, I'm sure. We'll send invitation postcards to Sarah C, MM, &c.

Aristo news: 

Dead: Lady Eileen Crichton-Stuart, daughter of the Marquis of Bute, killed by a man from Leeds driving a stolen car. Viscountess Chelsea is deceased too ~ a daughter of the Earl of Portsmouth, or Plymouth?  She's a Wallop anyway. Her brother Viscount Lymington died recently.

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Thursday August 30, 1984

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds

Ally was banging around with a face like Arthur Scargill. Donna Lea phoned to say she is visiting us and in she came at 7pm. A casual approach to be sure. She is all for promotions and silly evenings and us having some sort of 'do' in the near future. We ponder on this one. Ally recovers this evening and mellows after her day of violence. We stood downstairs. Our beer prices increase net week. Old Brewery Bitter goes up from 57p to 60p a pint. My God. How they will moan.

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Wednesday August 29, 1984

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds

Lynn is home from hospital. Ally phoned and Lynn was croaking down the line. A cold. Dave L rolled up at 8:30 and we - he and I - headed to the Blooming Rose and then the Junction. Incognito of course. It was disco night in the packed Junction. People were not drinking though. Hundreds of teenagers gathered around one pint of Tetley's. Back to Ally at 10. She was entertaining Brian. Consuming wine. David is as weird as ever, and he doesn't 'booze'. I am unsure what his aim in life is. Teaching bores the pants off him, and yet he doesn't want to give up. At the same time he fancies a pub tenancy in a town centre. He left at 11:30. __________.

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