Sunday February 3, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

Septuagesima

A working Septuagesima, no less. Mum and Dad went to John's for the afternoon supposedly for lunch, but when they got there the cupboard was bare. ___________. They came back at 5:30. 

We watched 'Songs of Praise Greatest Hits 1985' and found ourselves singing 'Abide With Me'. Mum says she last sang the old favourite at Uncle Albert's funeral in January, 1970. You know I have an aversion to hymn singing. A TV session. 'By The Sword Divided' - not excellent by any means. Downstairs at 9 o'clock I helped Margaret in the bar. An enjoyable evening.

News: Poor Princess Margaret has gone to Mustique to 'recuperate' in the company of royal 'jester' Ned Ryan.

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Saturday February 2, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

We went to Horton again. This time taking John. It meant leaving here at 8am. It was windy and cold up in the Dales. John climbed on the roof and grovelled inside the loft looking for leaks. It was all too complex for me. I sat reading 'Princess Margaret' by (Nigel) Dempster, and reflecting on the gloomy prospects of HRH's survival. We went to Settle at 1:30 and ate pies in the street before going in to the Talbot. We got somewhat 'worked up' in the pub and Dad and I slobbered into our beers. We really let off steam on these escapades to Horton. Home for tea. We ate French bread and cheese. Mum was very bright. No staff tonight because of Mavis's smallpox. We enjoyed ourselves tremendously. 

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Friday February 1, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

Madge Millar is 39. A party for her PM. Frank Millar lashed out and spent £7 on sandwiches and pork pies. The (birthday) cake, ablaze, took ones breath away. She had fifty candles lit for some reason. Ally used a good many matches lighting it.

Mum and Dad came back from Hilda's. The Jim Nasons came here, inc Julie. 

And so February comes.

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Thursday January 31, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

Marita 30. Andy (Bowden) arrived late pm. Idle bleeder. To Rawdon, to the dentist. No Hough, No Hodgson. The dentist was a lisping effeminate type. Needed no treatment, and booked an appointment for July. Samuel, all in yellow, went in, and the dentist counted his teeth, and registered him. Samuel didn't enjoy the experience and sat pulling at his tongue on the journey home. Saw Kim Dean in Rawdon (see Diary 1973).

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Wednesday January 30, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

Busiest ever luncheon. Cleaned the beer lines. Phoned Glynnie. Spoke to Mum at Pudsey. She seemed cheerful. Tony's cousin, a Mr Tunnicliffe, has been killed in a hit and run incident in Stanningley. They looked in on the crash scene, in glorious technicolour, on YTV's 'Calendar'. It ruined luncheon, no doubt.

And so, January has ended.

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Tuesday January 29, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

I will be brief because time is running out. Mum and Dad went to Hilda and Tony's for a few days, and Samuel went back into his own room, and we had a good night sleep for once. The boy must object to our snoring. Margaret worked instead of Andy, who worked last night with Maureen. A dead night.

Mum is back in the house where she was born 50 years ago.

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Monday January 28, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds

The snow goes. We went to Tadcaster leaving Mum and Dad babysitting. No sign of Rob and Kath. Donna (Lea) says Kath is in hospital with blood pressure. All the Sam Smiths managers assembled in the sub-zero brewery canteen. The new 'flexi-time' was the main item on the agenda, and we watched a promotional film on a tiny TV set. We then went shivering to the Angel & White Horse. A sycophantic bunch. C__W took the award for the manager with the brownest tongue (re arse licking). David Tyne came to Ally's side and Fran O'Brien suggested suitable restaurants for our supper. We spent some time with Don Whitfield - a nice man. We left at 9:30 and went to Jacomelli's, yet again, and found the place to ourselves, but for a fat, homely waitress called Doris. I got the hiccoughs so badly that the crockery rattled. Pissed as a fart. Home. Samuel had been angelic. To bed.

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