Made a few phone calls. Janette, &c. We are fuming about Lynn and her inability to come here. Are we not good enough for the Bakers of Tranmere Park? _________.
Ally still has very sick evenings. The three of us visited Dr Sykes (he had a particularly foul smelling office). He saw no harm in Ally transferring to Bradford for maternity matters. He told her to go see Dr Duck.
-=-
We were tucking into our poached eggs at the breakfast table when Maureen shouted up that a stock taker was here. My blood ran cold. Sure enough Rob Young was downstairs. Looking at my letter from the brewery it says he was coming on 'THURSDAY December 10'. I hadn't spotted this error. He bashed on and gave us a £30 surplus. It left me feeling easier but I will not lift the staff drinks ban. A catastrophic lunch. We only took £55. Few lunches. Ally looked better. She went shopping and made a stew which we ate at 3:30. However, the meal disagreed with her and she sat with her hand clasped over her mouth for the evening.
Every year on this date my thoughts go down to Clarence House where, 42 years ago, the poor Duchess of York, laid low with influenza, rose up as Queen Elizabeth on the dreadful abdication of Edward VIII. Little old Leeds men, my customers, even now go on about 'the Prince of Wales' in the 1930s as if he was one of them. I've witnessed it here in our tap room in 1985.
-=-
Up feeling groggy at 8:30. Much too late. Had a headache until evening. Cold out. The Sunday Telegraph was frozen solid on the doorstep, and had been there since yesterday. The writer Robert Graves has pegged out aged 90. A good innings. Ally was a lot better. She got some ironing out of the way and was up and about more. She is beautiful. My wife has gorgeous hair and particularly stunning eyes. She can melt anything with those peepers. Later I used the downstairs phone and sat by the lit Christmas tree. Lynn was infuriated that we might not be going to see them at Christmas. She cannot come and see us here tomorrow because she is 'nipping out to Morrisons' and similarly on Wednesday she is 'nipping over to Macro with Pam'. It seems we have come second to frozen veg and packets of Typhoo tea. Phoned Sue. They will probably come here on Boxing Day - all of them - and might stay the night. She has morning sickness too. She cannot walk into a butcher's shop without throwing up. Phoned Dad. He has had a liquid lunch with Arnold which had carried on into the evening. Good for him. Phoned Hilda & Mabel, but in reverse order, to tell them of our baby news which had already been leaked by Papa. Hilda seemed low. Thomas, she says, 'has a funny neck'. Mabel spoke of Mum. It being December and all that, and the theme of her sermon was happiness 'because you have a wife and almost two babies to consider.' She did mean well. 'We will all miss her' she concluded. Liz worked. It was quiet. Ally was poorly tonight. Even at midnight she was bilious and propping up the bathroom sink.
-=-
Samuel loves his Advent calendar. Today it was a owl, or was it a donkey? Do donkeys sit by moonlight in the branches of trees? Oh, I don't know. Ally was particularly bad today. She didn't get up until 2:30 and then lolled around on the settee threatening to be violently ill. Everything she eats smells and tastes funny. I also smell quite dreadful. She says it's the cigarette smoke and stale beer on my clothing. Bloody hell. Did the lunches alone. Went very well. Took £116 and kept nobody waiting. Heavy fog. Watched TV until 9pm (Mags opened up at 7). I was lethargic too and could have stayed upstairs by the fire. Margaret still supping glasses of iced water. We have more or less decided to keep the staff drink ban indefinitely. _____.
-=-
-=-
-=-
Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ
A sad note in a Christmas card from Edna and Nellie this morning. Dad's cousin Vera Dean, 76, was struck by a car and killed on Nov 24 when leaving church in Bramley. She was on a pelican crossing . She has a brother, Arthur Dean, 73, and is the only daughter of Polly Dean (née Ross), sister of my great-grandmother, Christiana Rhodes (née Ross). We sat in bed with tea and biscuits. Dad was very saddened and he phoned Edna, who filled him in with the details. We went out. Wet, fog, drizzle. We bought a potted Christmas tree for fiver. In the hustle and bustle of Leeds Market Dad says Dickens characters abound, and looking around they most certainly do. Dad loathes cities, especially Leeds, which he finds squalid. At 3:30 we went down and decorated the (Christmas) tree in the lounge and put up lights. Samuel's face was a picture. He sang 'Happy Birthday' at full throttle for some reason. _________.A night off. Dave L phoned from South Elmsall. He spoke about bees and aquaria, &c. Very chatty. He says he's coming here at Christmas with MM & Marita.
-=-
