Thursday March 7, 1985

 Full Moon

Moorhouse Inn

Little Lord Snowdon is 55 today. They say that Princess Margaret is back on the cigs. It would be foolish of HRH to say the least. 

A gang of Egyptians are buying Harrods.

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Wednesday March 6, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

_________. Mum is hopelessly 'down'. It is Lynn's 27th birthday. It is the fact that it's her daughter's birthday that has so upset Mum today. She was weeping in bed at lunchtime and I made some attempt to comfort her. She said writing Lynn's birthday card was a wrench. "I won't be here next year, will I?"

Lynn and Dave are on holiday this week - at Scarborough today, and they called in with the girls after their seaside jaunt. Mum broke down in front of Lynn too.

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Tuesday March 5, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

I have the most disgusting hangover I have perhaps ever experienced. Ally too lay whimpering beneath the quilt and refused to climb out of bed. I had to persuade Maureen to open up at 11 and I stood around red-eyed. I made a lasagne and pies, and fed Samuel. Poor Terry (Teri/Terri/Theresa/Teresa??)  came in to work and I sprawled upon the settee and slept. Ally found some inner strength and climbed out of bed to cook. Audrey enjoyed it and found it a huge joke. Then, at 2pm, when the calm of post-lunch activity descended who should appear but David and Jean Watts with the Dowager Watts and Hannah. I could have died. We gave them coffee and attempted conversation, but I had to make an exit to spew up. Have you ever tried to vomit quietly? Back in the lounge I think my indisposition had gone undetected. David W is going to college in Leeds on Tuesdays and they will be back in a few weeks when we will be in a better situation.

Mum and Dad came back at 5. She is always 'done in' after travelling.

Andy Bowden's last night. He attempted to persuade me to buy him a drink at 11pm but I told him to be gone. Staggered to bed bleary-eyed and at deaths door. 

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Monday March 4, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

The miners strike has fizzled out after a futile year and they have gone back to work, on bended knees. Serves 'em right. 

Driving lesson at 9.  Ally got a helper in the kitchen today. She's called Terry (Teresa), one of the nice lounge customers.

Sir Iain Moncreiffe of that Ilk has joined the choir invisible. Succeeded in the baronetcy by Lord Erroll and in the clan chieftainship by his second son the Hon Peregrine. Only last month Sir Iain was accused of having made vulgar suggestions  to the dear prime minister in the Palace of Holyroodhouse, which he fervently denied.

Jill and Tim called in at 8 for half an hour. It was Andy Bowden's penultimate session. At 11 we found ourselves continuing in the revelry and the three of us, Andy and Ally and I hit the Diet Pils with a vengeance. It was soon 4:14am and we were pissed as arseholes. Andy is a stimulating friend.

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Sunday March 3, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

2nd Sunday in Lent

with dear Phyllis.

Drizzle. Up for a full-English. Samuel is much better behaved without the influence of his doting grandad and devoured his bacon and eggs splendidly. Today is day one of our new stream-lined system and I worked 12-2 with Margaret and 7-11 with Mavis. Enjoyable really. I always did enjoy Sundays in the bar. We had a 'knobbly knees' contest at 2pm and Geoff's wife Phyllis fell on top of me demolishing a chair. All in good fun. Terry Egan has legs like a Christmas turkey. 

At 3 I drove Ally and Sam to Pudsey where we spent an hour at Wilsby. Mum was bright and pretty, and sitting in the bay window eating an orange. Hilda is such a good tonic. Tony busy as ever. Di came in covered in muck from renovating her Calverley home. Sam was hot and petty. He cried on seeing Uncle Tony and pulled a large 'pet lip' on catching sight of Pepper, the frustrated terrier. Dad looked pale and fed up. Home for prawn cocktails, chops, &c. by candlelight. Snoozed afterwards but struggled down at 7 to do my bit.

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Saturday March 2, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

We were both in foul tempers at breakfast and escaped the close confines of the Moorhouse and went with haste to Bradford at 11:30 where Ally shopped at Linfood and afterwards we went to Club St for a fish and chip lunch on the floor. Samuel did very well with a plate on his knees and a tea towel improvising as a bib. He loves investigating at Club St and soaks up the happiness and tranquility of the place, our haven for 5 years. Thank God we have held on to this retreat. We can regain our sanity and squat like monks, if need be. To Cheap 'n Cheerful where we bought a large, sturdy bed frame and a tiny bookcase for £22. Then to a lovely little place called Ali Baba Carpets where we bought a bed base for £35 after a car ride to a warehouse with a little Pakistani salesman. He could have been taking us anywhere. This stuff is for Club St so tat we can stay overnight during our Easter break and Mum can retreat here if need be.

Steady evening with Mavis. Ally was upstairs spring cleaning. Phoned Mum at Pudsey. No visitors today. Hilda was babysitting for Hayley at Karen's and Tony was doing his paperwork. I said we might drop in tomorrow.

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Friday March 1, 1985

 St David's Day

Moorhouse Inn

The first of March. I am very gloomy and black today. Mum is declining rapidly. I cannot foresee her living to see my 30th birthday. Last night she was a pathetic sight. We phoned Lynn and Susan to warn them of mother's weakening condition. Both understand the situation. When they saw at Christopher's party on Wednesday they saw a distinct change for the worse. Sue had a bad day yesterday. Hilda must be a good tonic for Mum because she will eat when staying at Pudsey and get out of bed for breakfast, where he she lies helplessly in bed. Ally now thinks that this is not the place for Mum. I phoned Auntie Hilda later, and spoke to Mum who was so different from the despairing soul of last Thursday. She sat all day reminiscing over old photographs and talking about Uncle Albert, &c. Jill and Tim say they have never seen Hilda so low and depressed as she has been since Christmas.

-=-