Monday May 27, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

Bank Holiday in UK & USA

Bloody Bank Holiday. We expected visitors all day but none came until almost 2 o'clock. I was sat writing this 'ere (diary) when Ally shouted "look out of the window". This I did and there was Dad with Sue, Pete and the boys smiling up at me. We left Margaret in the bar and came upstairs. (Audrey is having the week off). Dad sat in Mum's high-backed chair and kept saying: "Hey, dear", with a sigh. He went and inspected every room. They spent 98 days here after Mum's so-called 'operation'. Ninety eight bloody days. Dad says he is so grateful for what we did. What did we do?  Mum was laid here dying while we sold ale below. We have suffered so much too, haven't we? We have to go on with this trauma for the rest of our lives. Hopefully, Mum sleeps soundly beneath Guiseley soil. 

Karen, Steve and Hayley came. Dad and Sue & Co left, and the Sandersons stayed until 9pm. Steve came down to the bar with me.

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Sunday May 26, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

Whit Sunday 

Hot day. Ally played outside with Samuel and then they sat at a table with Werner, and his Diet Pils swilling friends, celebrating a birthday. Later we demolished roast beef for lunch. Samuel slept from 1pm and so missed his lunch. We ate upon our new pine table acquisition. 

Margaret worked tonight. Toe hurts. Am I going to be lame?

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Saturday May 25, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

Guiseley cemetery.

A deep sleep again. It's a form of exhaustion I'm sure. Woke at 8:30. Poached eggs. A dull, overcast day. A typical start to a bank holiday. Feel particularly glum. It's a week since Mum was taken. It's obscene. I am having trouble with a toe-nail. It's a hideous sight. I sat in the bath soaking it, much to Samuel's amusement. Maureen suggested cutting the toe out of an old shoe, and this I did. It could set a new fashion. We were supposed to have a bank holiday extension in the bars tonight but I feel so awful, and on top of the festering toe I have a bad stomach too. Feel cold from inside. Ally was upstairs watching "Where Eagles Dare" for the 48,000,000th time. I kept running up and sitting on the toilet. John and Janette are at Horton. Dad, God bless him, is all I have got left to look up to. I phone him every day. Parents are so precious. 

(Yesterday, we visited the cemetery at Guiseley in the afternoon. Samuel played in the long grass and we looked at Mum's flowers and stared in disbelief at the wet, clay mound on top of her. It is a quiet corner though. On to Sue's afterwards. Pete was creosoting a fence.)

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Friday May 24, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

Uncle Albert.

The first of May was the day on which Mum must have decided to get everything off her chest and then be at peace. If you can recall it was the day she told Papa and I that she wanted to be buried at Guiseley. Hilda and Tony visited that night and Dad took Tony to the Oddfellows for a drink leaving Mum and her sister alone. It was when they were upstairs together that a very poignant exchange occurred. Mum told Hilda that she was the daughter of Levinyer and Uncle Albert. She told Hilda that her mother (Levinyer) had disclosed this news when she herself was on her deathbed in 1957. Mum was so shocked that she only ever repeated this to Dad. (Dad told me of this in 1969). It was then that a bombshell came. Hilda told Mum that she too was the daughter of Uncle Albert, and neither had ever suspected that they were similarly sired. Both had spent the years from 1957 thinking they were alone, outcasts and virtual freaks. How sad that they both discovered that they were full sisters 18 days before one was taken away forever. How wrenching. I find it particularly annoying that Levinyer didn't have the sense to inform both her daughters together, to help them share the peculiar burden. I have always pondered, since I was told this story in 1969, on the structure of the Wilson family, and I decided long ago that Hilda must be Albert's child too. I cannot see Levinyer switching from one brother to the other and then back again. Dad says he cannot pretend to understand the relationships but recalled going along to St James's Crescent in December, 1953, to ask John Wilson for his daughter's hand in marriage to be confronted by the sober supposed father of the bride, who immediately responded: "Yes, you can marry Nora and I request that Hilda is the chief bridesmaid". Dad thought this was a strange proviso and now looking back he can see John's reasoning. The only people who could ever explain the antics of this ménage à trois are not going to reveal anything now. Poor Hilda. I must speak to her about this.

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Thursday May 23, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

The funeral of my poor, young mother.  (Redaction).

We went to Guiseley. Left the car at Sue's and walked to Lynn's. A full house. Long, lost relations too numerous to mention. Ally was annoyed at the way so many family and friends treat Mum's funeral like an enjoyable family reunion. Flowers galore. I didn't read any of the cards because I didn't want to blubber. 

St Paul's, Esholt.

To St Paul's, Esholt. The church was full of friends. Mr Barnes, the vicar, attempted to ease the pain but could not justify the death of a loved and lovely 50 year-old wife and mother. St Paul's letter to the Thessalonians didn't help. We wept through the hymns. To Guiseley cemetery at 11:45. A dull, but thankfully dry morning. Mum was lowered into the damp earth and we huddled around in the damp grass. 

(Redaction).

Back to Lynn's  for whisky. Just the four children, spouses, JPH and Catherine - two impeccably behaved children. Dad walked back to Thorpe Lane after seeing all the mourners off. It was what she wanted. No large gathering afterwards. No wake. Just a funeral and then home. Collected Sam. Home for 5. I was in bed at 7:30 totally exhausted. ______Tragic.

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Wednesday May 22, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

Dull, miserable, overcast. You name it. I woke up glum and read a letter of sympathy from Edna and Nellie  which reduced me to tears.  Also a nice card from Sarah and Delia. Birthday cards for Ally. We had boiled eggs. _______. I phoned Anne's florist in Guiseley and ordered two floral sprays one from us and one from Bessie. £27 in all. I asked for roses. We went looking for a black jacket for Ally without success. It was a wasted, frantic hour. Ally insisted that Mum wouldn't want us to be doing this, looking for mourning garb, but I'm of the opinion that lime green polka dots at funerals should be avoided at all costs. Hilda phoned, just to talk. Sue phoned Ally to say that Dad had had a bad night, and had walked up to the Cemetery. Dad's brother Joe had phoned him. The conversation was 'crisp' says Dad. 

I phoned Lynn who says Auntie Dorothy had written to Dad. "Very sweet and sympathetic". We went to Bradford at 3:30 where Ally found a black jacket in Rackham's. Dad saw Jack Denison at 6 and then came here at 7:30. It was good to see him. Marjorie worked and Ally came down and we sat in a corner. We talked about tomorrow and the funeral. upstairs for 11.___________.

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Tuesday May 21, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

Ally is twenty seven today. I bought her some things last Thursday and I gave then to her unwrapped at breakfast, with no enthusiasm. A Laura Ashley petticoat (£18) and odd bits of Almay cosmetics. They latter were from Sam. It was hard to find a card which avoided saying "Happy Birthday". It was a ratty, disorganised birthday morning. Heavy rain. We went to Guiseley and had fish and chips with Sue. Lynn's household is stricken with 'flu and so we avoided taking Samuel. Dad, Sue says, has moments when he is overcome with emotion and grief, but he can gather himself quickly. ____. I wanted to order flowers from Anne's florist but Guiseley appeared to be totally shut down. Just Ally and I called on Lynn. Thomas came out of hospital at 4pm yesterday. John & Janette were with Lynn. Back to collect Samuel and then on to Menston for 3:30. Hilda has decided to visit the chapel of rest to see Mum at 6 and John and I have decided to accompany Dad. I was in two minds about this but have decided to pay my respects and see her for the last time. We watched 'Demetrius and the Gladiators' which John had recorded from Sunday. Janette is a good and thoughtful girl. _______. John, Dad and I met Hilda on Otley Rd at 6. We went in just for a few minutes. Hilda sobbed. Mum, beautiful in her coffin in white satin. Her hair so dark. They had applied some make-up and lipstick. Dad had a weep. He asks 'why?' Tony picked up H at 8:30 and we went to Leeds and the pub. Gary worked. June brought a birthday cake in for Ally.

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