Monday February 18, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

Washington's Birthday Observance

Driving lesson at 9am with the not so Greenham Common Karen Hudson. She is a very relaxing person to motor with. I feel competent and far from the bungling buffoon of '75. I have a letter confirming my driving test is fixed for August 14. Mum looked very distant when I told her the date and I could clearly see that she was thinking August is too late for her.

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Sunday February 17, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

Quinquagesima

We want another child. Samuel will be two before long and it would be so good to have two babes of similar age. Two angels. I feel strangled by emotion. My mother is dying and I cannot write objectively about her any more. (Redaction).

A pub crawl. The Menston Arms, Station Hotel, Emmott Arms and the Butcher's at Pudsey. Rob sent Ally upstairs to see the expectant Kath, who is now sick of waiting.

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Saturday February 16, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

Waltergarth.

To Horton. It was a fine, crisp day but our peace was shattered on arriving at Waltergarth by the sound of running water - a furious torrent in fact. A downpour coming through the kitchen ceiling and the whole bungalow was awash. It was to be expected really because recent temperatures have been in the minuses. Dad didn't panic or fluster and was very casual about the disaster. Why worry? Frances (neighbour) came dashing in and found us a plumber who fixed the pipe in the loft and I spent the afternoon drying the kitchen and emptying the cupboards of damp, soggy food. Dad was soaked to the skin and blue with cold. Frances took us in for hot soup and a warm which was a God send. She really is a thoughtful lady. I phoned Ally and spoke to Mum about the leak. She said: "I wish I could sell the bloody place." Home in the dark to a glum reception. We had Chinese food.

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Friday February 15, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

Andrew is 21 today and is celebrating quietly with Lorraine. Will she be Mrs Dixon soon? It has been discussed.

I have to go to York next week on a hotel and catering training board course, Don Bywater presiding.  It's a three-day event from Feb 26, and I do not relish the idea. Rob (Piper) attended the course last year and was subjected to a series of humiliating games and tests. No point in dodging though because I will only have to do it at a later date. It looks like I will have to stay over in York too. Ally quakes. We will miss each other so. 

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Thursday February 14, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

Valentine's Day

Mum and Dad went to Guiseley to visit the girls. Mum ate a large fish from Harry Ramsden's which disagreed with her somewhat. It was something called a 'special'.

Received some books in the post from our book club. Princess Margaret by Christopher Warwick, and Elizabeth II by the Countess of Longford and a picture book of the Churchills by their daughter Lady Soames entitled 'Winnie and Clem'. I do love new books.

It is old Reg Scott's birthday. He's 85. That's if he's still with us. Muriel Rawnsley's birthday too. We are told that poor old Jim (Rawnsley) had a successful gall bladder op last year. He'd been yellow too before his surgery. Lynn recently saw Muriel who was distressed to hear about Mum and sent her best wishes adding that she is praying to God.

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Wednesday February 13, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

Our first anniversary here. Cold. We went shopping. Bought Valentine's day cards and peered into shop windows. Ally took her watch into Samuels but it is beyond repair.

Evening deathly quiet. George and Debbie Bailey (Hollywood Days, &c) and Paul and Jenny (the Duncan) came here and we had a communion of Sam Smith managers central Leeds area. Like a general synod sort of thing. Paul is a great mimic, a natural comedian. Jenny somewhat sullen. George is a frustrated footballer with a (Kevin) Keegan perm. Debbie blunt and endearing. Something of a alcohol fuelled evening, though no vomit like last week.

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Tuesday February 12, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

Lincoln's Birthday

Who cares that it's Lincoln's birthday? Men from the brewery cellar services came and installed Diet Pils at 89p a pint on draught. Donna Lea breezed in at five, what an Ophelia she is, here to increase our beer prices. Bitter is now up 3p to 63p a pint, lager up 3p to 75p a pint. Crafty of the brewery because Nigel Lawson will slap a further 2p on ales in the budget next month. Ally dealt with Donna and stayed to open at 5:30 gleefully to observe the reaction of the customers. She's cruel that way. Grumbling old men exclaiming that the increases are disgusting and equally share the blame between me and Margaret Thatcher. Irish Brian mournfully announced that he will take up home brewing. So boring of them all. We sat with Jack Collett promoting the newly installed Diet Pils. Ye olde Merrie England and Ye Olde Moorhouse Inn.

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