Thursday April 5, 1984

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds 11

My 29th birthday. Up at 7 feeling awful. Sitting in bed Ally gave me a pink and blue tie and a card with a frog on the front. A card - to 'Daddy from Samuel' - brought a lump to my throat. 

A traumatic birthday really. Rob, the stocktaker, came at 8:30, and LG at 9 with the new optics. We have a £142 defecit which was something of a body blow. The loss is in the draught bitter and lager. Mum and Dad went off to Guiseley at 3 and we sat wearily. I worked all evening like a zombie. Margaret bought me a brandy for my birthday and at 10:30 I was heartily glad to go upstairs. John phoned to say 'happy birthday' at 10:45. Poor Ally says I have had an awful birthday but I am contented. I have a son who is beautiful beyond belief and a wife who is an angel.

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Wednesday April 4, 1984

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds 11

Out into town at 9 with Samuel. The boy despises head gear and kicks and struggles when Mummy dresses him. Crisp and sunny. Ally headed straight to Laura Ashley. We dumped the pram near the curtain fabrics and went upstairs. An elderly spinster, very plain and very large, was trying on a wedding frock and looked like Mount Kilimanjaro. We hurried back and found Mama and Papa upstairs. They helped with the lunches and we had a few drinks afterwards. The Mandarine Napoleon came out. They say John has made an offer for a house on Back Lane. We had no idea he wanted to move.The house that Sue wanted on Moorland Crescent is no longer on the market, and they are going to look elsewhere. We drank in the bar until Maureen came in at 5:30 and we went upstairs. I was furious when Maureen told me later that the Piries had called in after arranging a darts and dominoes evening here on April 10. The bloody cheek of it. I wasn't consulted.

Samuel was niggly and playing up. He must know that we want to go out and leave him. He was in bed for 9pm and at 9:45 we hurried into town and the bistro on Commercial Street (it is the former Betty's Tea Rooms). A disappointing dinner. I had veal in horrible cooking sherry - so sweet. It was supposed to be veal marsala. I didn't let on to Ally that I was disappointed. She also had veal, but in a mushroom sauce. I was pissed and staggered out stripping down the stairs. Ally looking beautiful in a peppermint striped Laura Ashley creation purchased today. Back to the Moorhouse for 11:30. Samuel had been awake until 11 and was now sleeping peacefully. We went down to the empty pub and sat in the lounge. My God, I enter my 30th year tomorrow. To bed after 3am.

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Tuesday April 3, 1984

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds 11

Busy with food. Dray day. All banked. Bloody Hell, it's all go. 

News: The President of Israel had lunch at Windsor yesterday. Marvin Gaye, the Tamla (Motown) personality, has been killed by his disgruntled Dad. Wasn't Marvin fraternising with Lady Edith Foxwell? 'Heard it Through the Grapevine' will soon be back at number one, no doubt. Almost nine in ten families have some sort of social service assistance. A frightening statistic, eh? 

Jane (Tudor) worked tonight. Old Harold says she is a calming influence on the tap room rowdies. She is slow but I'm sure she's reliable. 

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Monday April 2, 1984

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds 11

Pisses down. Albert Tatlock is dead. Joan Parkinson left and went without the theatricals I was expecting. I was kissed goodbye, which was nauseating. 

Balderdash in the papers about the Princess of Wales expecting twins. Rot.

Are people taking drugs in our tap room? The ever watchful Edna insists they are. I must admit that a certain element of the clientel are very 'Dylanish' and look like renmants of the long gone hippie era. Will I go down if the beloved CID raid the bar? Dad will have to be consulted. I do not want to be running a den of iniquity.

Samuel beams. He's sturdier. Looking very much like Frank but Ally giggles and says it's only because they are both bald with sticking out ears.

This Gary Hart person is frightening. He's been going everywhere in the US telling everybody he's Irish. They say he's taking the rise out of the Kennedys. Blimey, he'll be drowning his secretary next. Modale is a spineless fart.

To bed relieved at Joan's departure. Knackered.

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Sunday April 1, 1984

 4th Sunday in Lent

Mothering Sunday

New Moon

Sunny, bright, &c. Smothering Sunday. All Fool's Day. Busy. Rob came and so too did the ghastly Piries and Marisa. Uncomfortable to say the least. I now know how George VI felt when the Duke of Windsor kept flitting back to London after his abdication. Sadly, I cannot banish Pirie to France with a dukedom.

Ally suddenly proclaimed: 'Let's go to Horton' and so off we went arriving at 4:30 to find everyone. All the grandchildren except Hannah. A frantic hour. Silly really. We arrived back in Leeds at 7:20 to find a crowd waiting on the doorstep, grumbling. Opening late is dreadful. Jane came in at 8. She brings to mind Vivien Leigh. Busy. Glenfiddich-swilling David ('such a gentleman') _______. Ally's first Mother's Day. What joy.

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Saturday March 31, 1984

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds 11

My name went up over the door in letters today. The Grand National. Watched the race. One horse dropped dead afterwards. Rain. I took Samuel down to the tap room where all the old men gave him money. He has a piggy bank like the Aga Khan. Ploughman's lunches. Michael Brown and Harold came. Such witty folk. Poor M is spending a week at Butlin's in May.

I went out with Samuel in his pram and bought an aspidistra, flowers and chocolates, &c. All for Mother's Day tomorrow. It was cold out.

The Aspidistra: forty years on.

Quiet in the bar. Ally downstairs with Margaret (Milne). I retired upstairs. Noisy Olive came in to the back bar. Edna, sitting in her usual spot upon a bar stool, says that the offensive Olive has 'had more prick than a second hand dart board'. Such fun. 

Toasted cheese sandwiches. A Vincent Price epic. Poor Edgar Allan Poe. Bed.

Note: (The Aspidistra lives on today in Samuel's possession, 2024).

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Friday March 30, 1984

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds 11

We are having a stocktake and having metred optics installed on my birthday. Sod it. Mum phoned to confirm that they are coming here on Wednesday to stay over night and babysit when Ally and I go out to dine. Just where we will go I do not know. Mum says that Michelle Myers, the 17 year-old bride of my cousin Stephen, gave birth to a daughter, Gemma Louise (?) at the BRI last night. Bloody Hell, I can recall Stephen's christening as though it was yesterday. I sat with Uncle Albert who was talking to cousin Derek about fishing rods. That was back in '65 or '66. The family are all meeting at Waltergarth for 'Smothering' Sunday. We'll never find the time to go. 

I phoned a plumber about the continuing saga of the dripping Club Street radiator. Evans, for that is his name, will inspect the damage on Tuesday. Ally is going to have to be in Bradford for 8am.

Later we stood around in the bar looking like idle pub managers. Talked to David (Howard?) with the pipe. Ally looked like a doll in her Laura Ashley number. Beverley Pirie came in draped in a fur coat and was overheard saying she was 'slumming it'. The cow. We ignored her.

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Thursday March 29, 1984

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds 11

Swapped roles. Ally, clad in her Laura Ashley number, went down to the bar to work with Audrey, and I cooked the pub lunches upstairs. Petal looked gorgeous and slim. I stood turning out pork pies with mushy peas and spied Kathleen creeping past heavily camouflaged. Silly girl. Give a woman the best years of your life and this is how she repays you. 

Laughed at a copy of the Daily Star which suggests that the Princess of Wales will have her second baby in Scotland, because the Royal Family are always at Balmoral in August. No, it will be back to Paddington, I fear.

Busy early doors. L. Gledhill came in with a sign which will display my name over the door of this establishment. He bought half a bitter and held it up to the light. Swine. Doesn't he realise that to do such a thing causes panic to run through the beer swilling customers? He announced that Elaine Wills gave birth to a son, David Christopher, just after noon today. I told him I want lights on my cool shelves and he mumbled favourably and went away laughing at Edna. 

Karen and Margaret worked. They pretended not to know that Joan is quitting.

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Wednesday March 28, 1984

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds

Our so-called day off. Silly really. I do more work on Wednesdays than on any other day. We were up at dawn and in town for 9am. Ally bought a rich full, red skirt and a dress from Laura Ashley. She floated out of the changing rooms like a debutante. Samuel, pushed everywhere, slept throughout. He wore a helmet and looked like Biggles. 

Back to the Moorhouse to do the lunches. We needn't have bothered. Then back into town and on to Club Street. We found Mary (Moore) bereaved. A boyfriend, aged 91, died last Tuesday. We called in at the Red Lion and saw dear Enid. The pissed bus driver was in drinking. Elaine (Wills) went in today (to give birth) and Chris was with her at the BRI. Back to the Moorhouse. Ally plonked Samuel upon a table in the lounge bar and people peeped in on him. We had a few drinks and went to the fish and chip shop - silly really when we have so much fish on the premises. Hung a big red lampshade. Bed.

(Jane worked for Audrey who was at a 'leaving do' at the Metropole).

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Tuesday March 27, 1984

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds 11

Why I write so much I do not know. Bloody Hell, I must be so boring. Tuesday is of course 'dray day'. The delivery came at a reasonable hour and I check everything so very carefully now. They won't swindle me out of Bacardi again. 

Samuel loves playing. He sat riding me knee as I sang 'Galloping Major'. Where have I got this from? Somewhere in the past dear Papa must have done similar to me and it has laid dormant all these years. Samuel squealed as I bounced him around. He is all gummy.

Ally opened up again and I bathed the lad after which he conked out and slept until 7. I think his bath water was too hot. He emerged like a lobster.

Joan Parkinson-disease phoned and announced her resignation because she says she is 'getting trouble from all sides' and wants no ill-feeling at work. I am gleeful because she is a barmaid I have wanted to see go. _______. Jane tonight. I sat with Reg (who was born Feb 14, 1901). Poor man.

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Monday March 26, 1984

 Moorhouse Inn, Leeds 11

I ignored the alarm clock and lingered in bed until 9 o'clock. Wind, rain, &c. Phoned Ken Gilbertson at the brewery about the TV ariel which blew off the roof on Saturday morning. He put me on to a Bradford firm. Bacon sandwiches and pots of tea. Played with Samuel. He does giggle a lot. 

News: The Queen arrived in Jordan today with, supposedly, a SAS crack unit. The royal plane has avoided the Lebanon and Syria. Edwina Hicks, daughter of Lady Pamela, married Jeremy Brudenell in Oxford on Saturday. HM and the duke attended. I had no idea she was engaged. The Press singled out Edwina for the hand of the P of W in about 1980 - until Diana came on the scene. 

It was a dead afternoon in 'the trading rooms' as F.O'B would say. Just Audrey and three old, dying men. Very sombre. Ally and I sat upstairs and had lunch watching a snowy TV - Miriam Stoppard discussing babies. At 3:30 Ally climbed into the bath and I pushed Samuel up the road in his pram. Dark clouds came over and the rain poured down on us. I went to the post office and bought a large Mother's Day card from baby to Ally. Her first Mothering Sunday. What a lucky child he is. 

_______. Ally went down to 'open up' and I bathed Samuel and changed him and expected him to scream for food only to have him collapse in my arms.

The news: Hysteria about the Queen's Jordan visit which is going to pass off peaceably. The Tisdall girl is going to appeal. ________.

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