First Footer

Before we start I'd like to say a big THANK YOU to all those who made last year just a bit more bearable including: all the staff at Newcastle's Royal Victoria Infirmary (especially Ward 24); Lane End Surgery's and Lakeside Centre's receptionists; LD:NorthEast; North Tyneside Council's official tweeter; those people who've been kind/mad enough to read my blogs and say nice things about them; the friends who have kept in touch and made me laugh; and the one who has winkled me out for the odd (both meanings) walk despite my foul mouth.

I'm not going to tempt fate with any optimistic predictions or hopes.

Just please do everything to stay well, look after yourselves and each other and know I appreciate you and wish you health and happiness.

Blwyddyn Newydd Da

1 January 2021

We had a lie in this morning and, as the weather forecast was for rain, I decided we weren’t going out.  So I took my breakfast of toasted teacakes and coffee to the chaise longue and reclined there in my déshabilés reading the Mirror & The Light in the inevitable sunshine.  A blue car pulled up outside our gate.  I wondered who it was for and went on reading.  Nobody got out of the car.  I was just finishing my coffee when my mobile crowed.  Naturally I’d left it on the bedside cabinet.  Fester roused himself from the office, found and answered it.

It was Pearl. 

We’ve known Pearl since at least the eighties; and before this present unpleasantness we saw each other fairly regularly.  She introduced me to the Pitcher & Piano’s webpage where you could sign up for their  special offers.  Every month or so we (and other ladies of our vintage) used to meet up for cocktails and/or lunch, or a walk, or both.   

If the People’s Theatre had something suitable on she’d organise us into a group.  Sometimes she would hire a National Trust holiday cottage and a couple of us ladies (and select gentlemen partners) would join her for a night or two.  This gave her visitors a short enjoyable break, and her a constantly changing stream of company.  It was a really good way of spending quality time with people without getting on each other’s nerves.

“Happy New Year Pearl”

“Happy New Year.  Where are you?”

“Home, but the mobile was upstairs and I was down.”

“I’m parked outside your house.  Do you fancy getting wrapped up warm and having a socially distanced chat?”

After donning a  thick winceyette nightie, a corduroy gown, a fleece dressing gown and a visor, I opened the front door to an anorak hooded, gloved and booted Pearl.   

She stood at the gate and I just inside the porch.

Lord it was good to see her and have a laugh.

She was clutching a pair of calendars.

In normal years, when we’ve been away, Ferretfingers has bought calendars from October onwards (earlier if he could get away with it) and there’s been one in every room, and two in some.  This year he only managed to buy three.  Thunderthighs grabbed the Railway Art one for his room in the loft.  Northumberland Views is by the phone in the living room and Friends of the Rising Sun Countryside Park in Ferretfinger’s bedroom.  Nothing for the office or kitchen.

“What have you there?” I asked innocently.

“Calendars, I bought too many.  Would you like one?”

“Yes please.”

I retreated behind the closing front door, she came forward, put the calendar on the doorstep, returned to the gate, I came out and picked it up:  then we both fell about laughing at the sheer ridiculousness of the situation.

There is now a Seasons In The Garden calendar in the office and we are looking at snowdrops blooming through the snow.

Traditionally the First Foot should be a dark haired man bearing coal, whisky and cake (or similar) not a small, fair woman with a calendar.

But these are strange times and she was very very welcome.