EMERGENCY IN THE VILLAGE

Last night there was an emergency in the village. Eric lost his front teeth. Gordon found him wandering the pathway in front of our cottages looking for them. In the snow. Well, he had certainly had them in at midday when he visited me with his pack of whisky and vodka. After that visit, he went to Ian next door for another wee First Foot dram. And then on to Elaine and Ronnie's. Ronnie swears he had his teeth when he left. The whole village is on high alert. With more snow falling again today, the pressure is on to find his clickers before they get buried.

This loss certainly explains another small mystery: why Eric was not to be seen sitting on his usual seat in the pub last night. Eric is very particular about his spot in the pub, always the same stool at the end of the bar. So much so, that on New Year's Eve he decided he wouldn't go to the pub because it would be packed and there would be nowhere to sit. One of his mates decided to take matters into his own hands and found a cafe table sign, sponsored by American Express which said 'RESERVED', and placed it on Eric's bar stool. Status quo resumed. Eric was persuaded to go to the pub after all, where lo! and behold, despite a bar crammed with revellers, his seat awaited him.

This is Eric a little later on New Year's Eve with his teeth in. I could offer this as an Identikit for a Wanted poster to put up in the village shop, perhaps?



So, with no Eric to entertain us last night, I tried to resurrect my glory days when I played on a darts team in New York, way back in the late 1970s. I challenged my brother Johnny and brother-in-law John to a game of 301. My first throw I hit a double 18. Meanwhile the boys struggled in vain to get their first double start in the game. I was down to shooting for a final double 15 before they even posted a score. Male egos were taking a serious bruising. Suzanne looked on with great interest as earlier in the week John had cockily challenged her to a game of pool and she had wiped the floor with him. She was keen to see him trounced yet again by a woman. But in the end, despite my valiantly aiming for a double 3, and then a double 2, John shone through at the finish with a scorching double 1 to take the game.

But enough of this idle chit-chat. I must pull on my coat and walk the lanes before it gets dark, to see if I can find Eric's dentures. Life will be miserable if he has to forgo his corner of the bar for another night.