It is a damp New Year's Eve morning and I am looking forward to a quiet day at home. After breakfast, I sort my dirty washing into whites and coloureds and then put the latter on to wash before settling down to read the Guardian when the phone rings. It is Louis, enquiring about the New Year's Eve Party at the village Hall in Tickton, which he must have found out about from the posters around the village. I ask to speak to Sarah, who of course would like me to baby sit while she has a night out with Richard. I agree and arrange to collect Louis around half past five. After showering and dressing, I put Norman's coat on, and drive into town, intending to take him for a walk on the Westwood and then call in and see Felicity. We end up queuing in traffic at the junction of Norwood and New Walkergate, so I call Felicity to let her know we intend visiting, she has her family there and is in some distress and says her dogs are going to have to go. I tell her that I will call her again this evening. As the lights change and we move off, it starts to rain heavily, so I drive past Albert Terrace and park on Woodlands, about 50 metres from the Westwood. Norman isn't at all impressed by the rain, deposits "treasure", quickly on the grass verge and wants to return immediately to the car. I insist that we walk a little way and we make our further up the road a few yards, before cutting through to Westwood Road, emerging opposite number 53, where Norman used to live with Sarah, when he was just a puppy. We complete a short, circular loop round the streets before returning to the car and driving to Morrison's for some shopping, the rain hammering on the roof of the car as we drive into the supermarket car park. I ring William, Leslie's son in law but only get the answering machine, so say I was just enquiring about Leslie, and then ring the man himself. Leslie answers straight away, his voice sounding much stronger, but when I ask him how he is, he tells me he is in terrible shape and still not sleeping. When I enquire if he needs anything from the supermarket, he becomes quite aggressive and says that Margaret and William are with him and seeing to him. Something is clearly amiss!
I stock up on ante pasta and crusty bread for Louis, and also buy some lamb ribs and a fennel bulb which I intend to combine with winter vegetables in my Romertopf. When we return home, I feed Norman with some dry dog food and then make tea and toast with apricot conserve for me, before meditating for an hour. At four o'clock, I walk Norman round the village, the rain has stopped, but there are huge puddles everywhere. We walk as far as the Village Hall, where a poster declares that tickets can be had for £5 for the New Year Party, which runs from 8:30 to 12:30AM. There is no one in the hall and no one in the Post Office seems to know anything about it, so we return home. I collect Louis and then drink tea with Sarah before driving back to Tickton for seven o'clock. Louis is full of the New Year Party, but I caution him that I haven't been able to buy any tickets and don't even know if there are any left, or if little boys are allowed. When we pull into my drive, I knock on my neighbour, Kath's, door and ask if she knows anything about the party, she doesn't, but rings her friend Yvonne, whose daughter used to organise them, but no luck there either. Louis plays with his Christmas toys while I lay out dinner, his usual favourite, Parma ham, Chorizo, smoked cheese, olives and fresh baguette, washed down with cream soda. Louis just won't let the village party drop, so we dress and walk to the village hall, arriving at twenty to nine, but only to find the place in complete darkness and that the poster has been removed. It seems obvious the event has been cancelled, probably due to lack of support, but Louis is hugely disappointed when we have to turn around and walk back home. I tell him we can get up to see the fireworks at midnight and then we go to bed for nine. He soon falls asleep after a grandad bedtime story. I wake shortly before twelve, to find my self "cliff hanging" on the edge of the bed and Louis spread out like a starfish in the middle. As midnight arrives, there are no fireworks going off and the village is quiet, so I let him sleep and return to bed.
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