Chapter 23

We all went round to Grandpa and Grandma Shaw's for Sunday lunch; Mum took a few things, but Grandma did most of the cooking. We had a very good roast joint of beef, with lots of crispy Yorkshire Pudding and roast potatoes. Grandpa didn't feel up to carving, so Grandma did it; Grandpa had the sense not to say anything, but we knew from past experience that he had always prided himself on his meat carving skills, and we realised that he felt very frustrated not being able to do it himself.

Dad had brought a couple of good bottles of red wine; he in turn had held his tongue when Grandma tipped a third of a bottle into the gravy to give it some body, although I saw him wince and Mum look a little worried. Mind you, the gravy was even better than usual, so perhaps it was worth using the good stuff.

Grandma had made a couple of Jelly Creams for pudding, even though it was wintertime. She knew how much we enjoyed them. The packet mix was made by Symingtons of Market Harborough, about thirty miles away, and they had been a favourite Sunday Lunch pud of ours since childhood. I don't know how they thought of making jellies with hot milk to produce something much better than a blancmange, but it was a great idea.

Grandpa started falling asleep in his armchair fairly soon after lunch; Mum had a quick consultation with her mother in the kitchen, and they decided to let him sleep. He had clearly found a third day of celebration and chatter quite tiring, so we said our goodbyes and headed home.

There wasn't a lot on the box, so we had a game of 'Go' with Mum and Dad. As usual, Mum got landed as the banker because the rest of us kept getting confused about all the different exchange rates and currencies - I remembered with shame the time I had asked for piastres when I meant yen, and missed out on my chance to buy the souvenir that round. I paid more attention this time round, but Mum still won.

Monday, New Year's Eve, was a quiet day. The shops were open and Mum went to stock up on a few perishable items like bread and milk, but she had laid in such generous supplies of most things that she was back home very quickly.

She had taken Dad's film into Boots to get it developed, and bought him another film and a pack of flash cubes. After lunch, the four of us went for a walk around town, dropping in to both sets of grandparents for a cup of tea and a piece of their Christmas Cake. As Mum had made all three cakes, they were delicious, and neither Jen nor I objected to having our afternoon tea twice. As both grandmothers refused to use teamugs, and served us in their best delicate bone china tea cups, we were glad to have several cups anyway.

Mum and Dad took us with them to their neighbours' New Year's Eve party; we had hoped to be left alone at home to 'celebrate' together, but to our surprise, we actually had quite a good time with them all. Dad had contributed a couple of bottles of wine and half a dozen quart bottles of India Pale Ale or IPA - he knew that otherwise he'd be drinking Watney's 'beer' from a Party Seven tin, and he always found that far too gassy.

The neighbours' children were a bit younger than us, by a couple of years, and we now hadn't got a great deal in common, but we danced with them a lot, played silly games, and had fun. I missed Julie, though, and wondered what she was doing to celebrate the coming of the New Year.

The TV that evening was of course the usual re-run of 'The Guns of Navarone' and '633 Squadron', while we waited for midnight and the annual televised display of the Scots celebrating Hogmanay. Actually, I really liked the music of Jimmy Shand and his band, and thought Moira Anderson had a wonderful voice, but normally by the time they came on, it was heading towards one o'clock in the morning and I was yearning for my bed.

Once Mum and Dad had turned a few coins over, brought in some coal, and generally tried to ensure us all a happy and prosperous New Year, they went up to bed.

Jen and I used the excuse of tidying the kitchen to stay downstairs by ourselves for a few more minutes; my sister gave me a passionate kiss that held great promise of a wonderful start to the New Year!

Once again I had to have a wank that night before I could get to sleep; it was all Jen's fault. Her parting shot to me as we were about to turn off the kitchen light was far too arousing.

"I'm going to be your New Year's present, and I'm really looking forward to being unwrapped!"

Gustav immediately did his famous impersonation of a hardwood truncheon, and refused to calm down even when I was alone in my room, with Jen safely in hers. I couldn't blame him; the visual image in my brain of a naked Jen was one to savour. There was only one way to make him lose his stiffness and let me get some sleep!

So I reached into my bedside drawer for my pack of Winfield Mens Tissues from Woolworth's, and gave Gustav his release. Then I nipped into the bathroom, had a pee, and flushed the tell-tale tissue down the loo.