Wednesday July 24, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

Oxton Hall: tatty.

Full-English breakfast. Sue phoned to say that Pamela (nee Nason), gave birth to a son, James, at midnight, a natural birth. Her last confinement was a Caesarean. They come in threes. Janette and Jill will be next. Dad is so withdrawn. He has had all the stuffing knocked out of his sails. (Sails have stuffing? --Ed). At 11:15 Ally and I went to Tadcaster to Humphrey and Julia Smith's wedding party, leaving Sam with Dad. We found Oxton Hall with ease. Spoke to Jim Ellis. The Ferris couple joined us on the lawn at the vast, yet tatty Georgian erection. A very grand garden though. I do not like Mrs Ferris. She's very affected. The couple from the Old Red Lion made a bee-line for us. He was wearing a very large velvet bow tie. Saw Roy and Marie. Big kisses. In to a very large tent for lunch. Smoked salmon, strawberries, &c. We sat between the Ellises and Sue and Thingy from the General Elliot. She is very pleasant in the early stages of a second pregnancy. Ally and must stop this idling and get one with it. Copulation does require time though, and we are always so very busy. Humphrey and Julia were at the top table of course. Julia very tall and dark and dressed in Laura Ashley. Like my ex sister-in-law, Maria. Humphrey's mother, old Mrs Geoffrey Smith,  was in lime green stockings and a green striped dress. It was a very sticky, hot afternoon. Lunch over we retreated to the bar. All freebies. Disgusting gluttony. We sat with Roy and Marie and a couple of peroxide tenants. Pissed up, we went in a small party to the Bay Horse in Tadcaster. Many gin and tonics. Card tricks. White rabbits, &c. I do love Marie Barnes. She says Mags is pregnant and planning a marital alliance. Came home via the Clarendon Wing to see Janette. I was over emotional in the car and blame the gin. George and Jayne Waite came. John too. All back to the Moorhouse where we sat in the lounge. We debated Arthur Scargill, Wales, and the Liberal party. Dad and I enjoy political discussion, but the youth of today tend to treat politics with contempt. Bed late. Oh, my head.

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Tuesday July 23, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

Sunny. Quiet afternoon. Who should call in but Martyn Cole. He is a car salesman or computer programmer. He was very nice, and Ally came down to see him. He has three children to Fay - Anna, Jonathan and Judith, all similar in ages to Lynn's. A congenial few hours. He is the Martyn of old. Ally went to Laura Ashley at 3 to buy a dress for tomorrow, and came back with a pair of odd shoes which didn't match. One white and one cream. I took Sam to the park for an hour. Dad came to see us at 4 looking lost. We had a few drinks in the bar this evening but it was suffocating. Mother's presence is so missed. Dad didn't overdo the drinking. Lynn must have been giving him the hard word.

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Monday July 22, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

_____. The Sovereign keg bitter ran dry and so Ally and I took Sam to the Old Red Lion on Meadow Lane (backs to the wall) to borrow an 18 gallon keg from Michael Rainforth (?), the Max Wall-look-alike landlord. A Larry Grayson clone was in the bar breathing all over the glassware. We escaped as soon as was decently possible. I am cruel. The landlord was helpful but I couldn't help squirming.

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Sunday July 21, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

7th Sunday after Trinity

Sue is 26. We went to Guiseley for a barbecue luncheon. Blustery. Went with John to Menston to collect some home brewed barley wine which proved fatal. Dad seems to have aged and seemed quite lost. Sue was very reflective and talked of her last birthday with Mum. The children all played so well together. Back to the Moorhouse for 5pm. Sam was put to bed. Hilda came at 7, late. We sped to the Fox & Hounds and found Dad, Sue, Pete, Lynn and Dave ordering. A good dinner spoiled by Lynn who who told us she fell out with Dad this afternoon when he arrived at their placed from Susan's pissed and "blubbering." He has every right to 'blubber', surely? The hideous manageress at the Fox refused to take a cheque for £80. To the White Cross all over-intoxicated. Back at 12. Hilda and Tony speak such sense. Dad will manage, but it is early days.

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Saturday July 20, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

Ally was done in all day because of our late night. She says she wished our relations could only realise that we need sleep and go home at a decent hour. I should, she says, throw them out earlier. At  3:30, feeling decidedly weak, I went out with Samuel to Grandways and bought fish in sauce in plastic bags which seems to be our regular Saturday nosh these days.

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Friday July 19, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

Tried to phone Janette all day without success. Spoke to her at 2pm. She has been abed and was waiting for John to return at 3 and then he would take her to Leeds. Later she phoned to say a midwife was with her and she is going to the Clarendon Wing by ambulance. Things seem to be coming to a head.

Dad has arrived home. He phoned. As he prophesised the Welsh leave a lot be desired. John called in at 8 after visiting Janette, who is now on a glucose drip. Hilda, Tony, Jill and Tim came in, and all made merry. June brought in a Brussels sprout pie. Very busy. Ally worked with Margaret M. I did nothing. They all stayed until after 1am. __________.

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Thursday July 18, 1985

 Moorhouse Inn

Dull, overcast, &c. Samuel fell out of bed with a bump in the middle of the night and Ally rescued him. This morning he ran in, like Steve Cram, clutching his blue elephant. By 9:30 all our little jobs were done and Sam and I walked up Dewsbury Rd. It's Pancrack Day. I saw most of our customers queuing at the post office. We bought chocolate buttons and ate them on the way back. Janette phoned to say she might be in the early stages of labour. Ally ordered her to go immediately to the Clarendon Wing but when I phoned John at 8 Janette answered and reported that she was calmly watching 'Top of the Pops'. Ally was livid. Sue is feeling better. A 'flu bug. Margaret is looking after the Nason 'terrorists'. Dad has phoned Janette and has decided to venture homeward tomorrow to be around for the birth. I am looking forward to seeing him.

Pancrack: This phrase is slang for being on the dole or in receipt of social security benefits. It is believed that "on the pan crack" originates from the coal mining areas of Yorkshire. 

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