Tuesday February 21, 1984

 Moorhouse Inn ...

The flurry of snow is gone. A quiet day in the bars. We sold only £3 worth of lunches, but it's better than nowt. 

Prince Andrew's new girlfriend is Katie Rabett, daughter of an Ealing gynaecologist, and a model turned actress. Watch this space.

Bessie phoned to say that cousin Patricia is with child and that cousin Margaret has left home. Is she now dwelling with PC 49? 

Gave interviews for the bar job vacancy. Carl White, 18, unsuitable. Andrew Cunningham, 20, looks like one half of Torvill & Dean, but I can't decide which half. Michael McLaughlin, 19, doubtful, and friendly Jane Tudor, pretty and enthusiastic. She starts on Sunday.

It was Charlie's last night. If he's a thief then I'm Anna Neagle. A pleasant atmosphere reigned tonight. I am going to enjoy living here. 'Mister Oliver' came at 7:30 and we chatted for 15 minutes. He knew all about Samuel and asked whether the brewery had influenced the name. I told him that my great-great grandpapa was so named. He enquired about the Why Not and commented: 'Ah well, you have had your Teesside stint'. It must be a test. He dashed out leaving me cheerful. 

Samuel refused to be put down and screamed until nearly 2am. Ally was at the end of her tether. This difficult patch cannot go on much longer ... can it?

Takings: (B) £115, (L) £121

-=-

Monday February 20, 1984

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds 11, &c

Washington's Birthday Observance

A stocktake showed a £76 defecit. Shit.

Snow. Yes it's back here. The scandal (news)papers reveal that Prince Andrew celebrated his 24th birthday at the weekend by taking the winsome Carolyn Herbert  to Covent Garden. Daughter of Lord Porchester and eminently suitable. I feel sure that the prince will not have a prolonged bachelorhood as the Prince of Wales did. 

Samuel screamed the place down. Wrapped in white we took him to the bank. The Piries never banked on Mondays. We deposited £1,349.

Toasted sandwiches went out on the lunchtime menu and went down well. I was on edge all day waiting for a visit from 'Mister Oliver' (Smith). L. Gledhill warned me on Saturday that the brewery chief could drop in at any time. 

Joan Parkinson worked tonight. She chatted much about her Thalidomide son who is 24. She lives on her nerves. Our advert for part-time staff was in the EP and our dinner was ruined by the telephone. A pleasant sounding girl from Morley called Jane Tudor, as in Henry, phoned. She'll get the job. Seeing her tomorrow. 

Hilda and Tony walked in at 9 o'clock bearing a beautiful red suit for Samuel. _______. We gave them a few drinks and showed them around. Sausage sandwiches at midnight and bed.

Takings: (B) £124, (L) £86.

-=-

Sunday February 19, 1984

 Septuagesima

Moorhouse Inn, Leeds 11, &c.

The Sunday Telegraph says Harold Macmillan is to be Earl of Stockton (his old constituency) and Viscount Macmillan. 

Samuel was in a yelping mood to begin the day. He notices us now, and gives me long, concentrated looks. I adore the little pudding.

A pleasant, plodding Sunday lunch. Mabel was brought in by Marlene and Frank and we had a couple of drinks together. I took them up to the flat to see Ally and Samuel. The phone rang at 2 and it was Lynn to say they are coming too. They arrived at 3 after Frank and Marlene had helped Charlie to clear up. After our cousins departed Lynn told us she is expecting baby Baker number three in August. Such a surprise though we did know that they wanted further issue. They must surely want a boy now. David let Thomas, as a name, out of the bag. We showed them over the place and had a drink downstairs. Frances is a quiet, serious little thing. Katie is of a more robust disposition. 

Charlie opened at 7 and I joined him at 8.

Takings: (B) £129, (L) £155.

-=-

Saturday February 18, 1984

The lounge bar: carry-out jugs

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds 11

Sunshine. L. Gledhill was here for 10 o'clock. He breezed in very cheerful and inspiring. I find him an excellent area manager, so far. This is presumptuous of me because my meetings with him have been somewhat limited. He went off warbling about the delights of his visits to provincial France and on his way to buy a William Russell Flint print. I hung up plastic carry-out jugs, and busied myself as pub managers do. John and Janette appeared as 12 which smashed a hole in Ally's planned agenda. The shopping went to cock. Idleness reigned. Drank with J and J and then Michael Brown and his wonderful father joined us. You can see where Brown gets 'it' from. Ally joined us for a martini but kept floating off upstairs. The girls went out shopping at 4 leaving John and I with Samuel for an hour or so. John held his nephew for the first time. He does so miss his own children. I opened up 'early doors' and worked on my own for an hour. John went back to collect Chris Ratcliffe and they came back at 8:30. I felt done in and exhausted and they 'overstayed their welcome' as Ally says, and we didn't get rid of them until almost 2am. They had a guided tour of the cellars, &c. Samuel squealed until dawn. Bless him.

Takings: (B) £201, (L) £155.

--=-

Friday February 17, 1984

 Full Moon

Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11

Samuel woke gurgling at 5:30. Now more vociferous, as if he's trying to talk to us. What do they think, these babies? 

Brown.

No time to write a diary, but to stop would kill me. A card arrived from the YP saying my copy neg. of Bessie is ready and so at 3:30 Ally and I went over to the YP to collect it. Saw Penny Falkingham, who never changes. Went upstairs and found Kathleen alone (Sarah is off with one of her heads). Kathleen was busily destroying ancient news cuttings. Her 'auntie' lives hundreds of feet up in the clouds in one of the flats looking down on the Moorhouse. She says she's too busy to call in on us. Eileen Jones and Michael Brown were in the office. Michael says he meets his papa at the Moorhouse every Saturday lunch. Dave Bruce, the idiot, made fun of my haircut and sagging gut.

Back at 5:15. No visit from Oliver Smith. I expect one at any moment. I'm told that he usually drops in on new managers disguised as a vagrant alcoholic. 

News: The Mark Thatcher 'Oman' deal is causing something of a stink. 

Takings: (B) £240 (L) £176.

-=-

Thursday February 16, 1984

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds, &c

The alarm sounded at 7:30 but I switched off and slept until 8 then crept down to the cellar leaving Ally and Samuel to sleep. The Kenmare lady arrived (fruit machines). Back upstairs and it was bathtime for baby. Karen says that Samuel is my double, but I cannot see it. He is just a little pug. Breakfasts are now a thing of the past. Too busy to savour our morning repast as in the golden days of yesteryear. Still, we enjoy the pace of it all. We cannot say life is boring. Ally did the pub lunches for the first time unaided. We took £11.10. 

Sarah phoned in hysterics. Kathleen's old auntie with whom she lunches every day lives in one of the flats looking down on our pub. For some reason Kathleen has heard from Betty in photo sales, and now thinks that I don't want her to know. 

I am feeling my feet now. _______. Margaret and Karen worked tonight. They say the customers know I mean business when I clear the place for 10:55pm. Let's keep it up. Knackered. Upstairs, Samuel has wailed all night. Sat watching Robin Day's programme with my feet up, and sandwich in hand. To bed after 12.

Takings: (B) £209, (L) £128

-=-

Wednesday February 15, 1984

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11

Fog continuing. I slept through Samuel's middle of the night feed and change. Was up at 7:30 and pottered around in the cellar, minus wellies, and had soggy feet. Plenty of staff in today - the Pirie's traditional day off. They (the Piries) called in from Ossett on their way to Aberdeen just to be nosey. Bev couldn't resist one last look at the place. They were positively vitriolic about C____ and accuse him of all their recent stock problems. It is too early to say, but I do think it is suspicious. We have two pheasants and a turkey of Bev's in our freezer.

Samuel is becoming sturdy. I fell to sleep nursing him at lunchtime. The poor lad's scratched his nose with a sharp finger nail and now looks like Chris Finnegan. Went at 4 to Bradford and filled the car with more Club St artefacts. Vallences have posted some rubber washers to the house and I can now get the washing machine plumbed in. Hurray. Deep fog. Back to Leeds. Lots of staff tonight. I stayed upstairs and watched 'Minder'. I am not at peace with the noise below, and am never at ease away from the bars. The responsibility of my new position weighs heavily on my young shoulders. Bed at 12:42. Not exhausted for a change.

Takings: (B) £170, (L) £118.

-=-

Tuesday February 14, 1984

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds LS11 5NQ

Valentine's Day

Fog. I got a Valentine's Day card from my precious, but I didn't do likewise to her. Shameful of me. My love for her hasn't waned at all  since the distant days of '79 or '80. In fact it's stronger. 

The Daily Telegraph leads with the royal baby pushing aside Mrs T's visit to the horrid Mr Andropov's planting. A good thing too. We have no royal birthdays in September as far as I can see. The Duke of Fife, Capt Phillips and Angus Ogilvy maybe, but none of the blood (royal).

Vallance's send our washer, microwave and dryer but drop them without fixing them in. Tonight I worked with Charlie. We are told he is shifty and 'over-sexed'. My presence must have been too much for him because he gave a weeks notice. Suspicious if you ask me. Obviously, I jumped at his resignation with glee even if it means we will be short staffed at our busiest times. Jill and Tim came for a short while just to inspect the place. A tart called Edna sat at the bar drinking pints of mild and cracking revolting jokes. Strangely, she is quite amusing.

Takings: (Bar) £138, (Lounge) £90

-=-

Monday February 13, 1984

 Moorhouse Inn, Moor Crescent, Leeds

Moorhouse Inn.

Day one at the Moorhouse. We drove away from Club Street at 9 leaving it in a state of dereliction. Fog and frost. The pub was upside down and Pickford's removal men were sat around drinking tea. Ron was taking stock. A £123 defecit. Oh, shit. Here we go again. Les  Gledhill came breezing in whistling an old Everly Brothers tune. He inspected Ally and Samuel and told us that 'Princess Diana is pregnant again.' Very good. I expect we'll have a September princess. Ally can do no food because Samuel insists on feeding continuously. Maureen cooked. We paid out £37 for frozen sausages, &c, and took £4.10 in food orders. I suppose it's a start. Les is worried about the stocktake and says we will soon have metred optics. I think he suspects that the Piries have been fiddling. Ron certainly does. They had left by 3pm. Mum and Dad came at 1:30 and made another run back to Bradford for more possessions. They are so cheerful and good. I do not know what we would have done today without them. We sat and had fish and chips in the spacious, empty flat, and I went down to the bar from 5:30 to 11pm. My feet ache, but I am contented. The lounge bar is pleasant but quiet, but the back bar is going to have to be watched carefully. Some rough diamonds, but not malicious. Mum and Dad stood at the bar for two or three hours and tittered together. Rob Piper came to offer support. Fagged out by 11:15 but feel better now I am here in residence. We are going to have to persevere. We are told that staff hours have to be cut to 80 hours a week, and it looks as if our Wednesday off is gone for a Burton. Ally did the tills and we are now laid on the bed at 1:26am. Ally is cheerfully feeding Samuel.

Takings: (Bar) £165, (Lounge) £117.

-=-

                 

Sunday February 12, 1984

 5, Club St, Lidget Green

6th Sunday after Epiphany

Lincoln's Birthday

Ally woke me at 3am. I was in a heavy sleep. Samuel was sucking his fingers greedily. We put him in disposable nappies now until the new washing machine is installed at the Moorhouse on Tuesday. Baby's complexion is especially 'rosy'.

The PM is going to Andropov's funeral in Moscow. Reagan is sending Bush. The Princess of Wales is on a one day solo visit to Norway. Her last foreign visit without the Prince of Wales was to Monaco for that tragic funeral in 1982. 

It is our very last day as free citizens at Club Street, not governed by the restrictions of the licensing laws. Our last day without the smell of beer and stale tobacco hanging like a cloud over our heads. Yet we face our new responsibilities with courage, pride and humility. Praise be to God on high for our salvation from destitution and for our deliverance into the hands of Samuel Smith's, a most munificent family of brewers. 

5, Club Street

A day of furious industry. We were up very early to pack. We like to pretend that we are not leaving Club Street and that we are simply saying 'bye for now', but deep down inside we know that things will never be the same again. John and Janette came with David B's trailer and John and I made two runs over to the Moorhouse with beds and a wardrobe. The Piries were in a state of pandemonium. I bet that Mrs P can be particularly nasty and malicious. She is an Aussie and he is from Scotland, from Ballater close to Balmoral. Met Maureen and Charlie, the supposedly reliable barman.  Back to Bradford. John very bemused by it all - pub life. Karen, Steve and Hayley (a big, chubby baby) were at Club St stitting around on tea chests. Next to arrive were Marlene and Frank, from a flea market, both happy and gay. Lasagne. John and Janette left and we sat observing the devastation, but decided to leave it and go to bed. Foolish, but nice. Sarah phoned from Delia's. 

Here endeth a chapter in the great Rhodes saga.

-=-

Saturday February 11, 1984

 5, Club St, Lidget Green, Bradford

Samuel was fed at 3 and then he went back to sleep until after 7. By 8 Ally was in the bath having decided to go to Marita's shop. Should we also call in on Sarah? I think so. We bundled Samuel into the car and went to Horsforth and spent hours at MM's shop sitting in a cupboard talking about mattresses. We bought one for £99 - a King size thing. Marita joined us carrying a cucumber (!) and they both cooed over Samuel, who was dressed entirely in blue. _________. From MJM Furnishings we walked to Kerry Hill but Sarah was out. I scratched a message in chalk on a flagstone in the garden telling her we had been. We bombed off back to Bradford and parked near the market so that Ally could jog down to Vallances to buy a micro-wave oven at £154.90, on the never never, of course. Samuel decided to wail for food, and I sat with my finger in his mouth for almost an hour until Ally came back to the car. Samuel was unsettled for hours afterwards and Ally gave him a dose of 'Nurse Harvey's' which calmed him.

Later the Aldersons came, both full of cold, to inspect the baby, but he wailed throughout and they left deafened after 10 minutes. Catherine mentioned that Jean's baby has been back in hospital and so Ally phoned her to say we will go over. This we did at 8. Jean's parents are in residence there. Hannah and Samuel were put on a pine table in the kitchen and photographed together. Our baby is much bigger. I inspected David's new dormer bedroom --- pokey. Home for 9. Samuel still unhappy. I washed woollen pullovers and 16 nappies. We should have been packing but couldn't be bothered. I phoned John at Horton to remind him to come here tomorrow, and Karen phoned to say they will come to inspect the baby, and then we went to bed at 11. 

-=-