ADVENT

Strictly speaking, Advent began this year on Sunday 27^th November 2016.  For us however, it really began on the previous Friday 25th November, when me and OH set off to the Civil Service Club in London for the Old Gits Christmas lunch. Nowadays I do my best to avoid travelling into town most of the time, as my shortness of stature tends to make getting on and off trains very difficult and dangerous, as the array of footwear to be found on the line at East Croydon testifies. However, as this was also to be part 1 of OH's retirement do, I made the effort and tarted myself up a bit, though not so splendidly turned out as Himself, in suit, club Tie and brocade waistcoat, adorned with fancy fob watch.

The Old Gits are a bunch of Ministry of Defence largely retired personnel, both civvy and military  officers who worked and played together for several decades through various conflicts and in several countries. Today they arrived from as far away as Scotland and York, though age, infirmity and death has whittled away their numbers; indeed OH's best friend universally known through the MOD as Duggan was not well enough to attend. Possibly due to an excess of the Irish the previous night.

The meal was very pleasant, I choose the smoked salmon in whisky marinade for starters, and had honey roast ham and all the trimmings (OH hates that expression) from the carvery, then not being a great lover of Christmas pud, an exquisite vanilla and lemon cheesecake with exotic fruit. Our table of 8 people including 2 women was left with many assorted empty wine bottles and 2 empty port bottles at the end of the meal, when we retired downstairs to the bar where the festivities had begun with proseccos all round. Now it was brandy for some and dry Martinis for others. Extra olives in mine to make up my 5-a-day.  Noting OH was nodding into his by 6 o clock, I declared it was home time, and having ascertained he could indeed stand and walk, we made our way through the chilly evening, past the Sherlock Holmes, to Charing Cross station.

Now the train company in their wisdom have long decided it a good plan to keep passengers holed up on the station waiting for the indicator boards to share their secrets and tell us what platform our train's come in on just 2 minutes before departure time. This results in huge swathes of people all over the platform awaiting starters orders. Dangerous. I stood in front of OH holding his hand amidst the madding crowd. Suddenly there it was - platform 3. 'Come on' I said, turning to make sure OH was following as I beetled off through the seething and largely annoyed crowd towards the Hayes train.

Raising my Freedom pass to gain admittance to the promised land of platform 3, I turned to see if OH needed assistance. He was nowhere to be seen. Never had I sobered up so quickly. Breathing carefully and urging myself to Keep Calm and Think Clearly, I continued onto the platform and walked the length of the train we had been expecting to board - which was by now due to depart As far as I could see OH was not on it.

Pushing to the back of my mind the recurring picture of him laying down somewhere having been attacked and mugged, or having had a heart attack in the gents. I did a couple of walks, as best I could round the station which was still crowded even at 7.30 pm. No sign of him. There was nothing else for it. I approached one of the many British Transport Police officers who were stationed at various points round the station. He was conveniently standing alongside the Customer Service desk and appeared to be about twelve years old.  I realized I would probably be dismissed as a batty old lady, but there was nothing else for it.  I told the officer my sorry tale, emphasizing that this was a totally unusual situation for my OH too be in, he is used to a bevvy or two and has always found his way home unscathed. So far. But today was different, what with Christmas lunch and the fact this was also his retirement do.  48 years of work is something to celebrate, after all, the officer kindly agreed. At this point I could have done with a sit down myself, and thought fondly of the flatties in my handbag, but I reasoned if I took my heels off (new red ones in honour of the occasion) I would then be about two feet shorter than the officer which might affect my dignity status. (Believe me, it often does).

I also had to explain that for the first time in 20 years I had left my mobile phone at home, and could nor remember OH’s phone number (who can remember anyone’s number these days?); indeed the only number I could call to mind was the home number of my Bestie.  Thankfully, she was at home, and gave the officer his number. Three attempts at ringing. No reply. I spoke to Bestie who said she would continue to try his number.

Anyway the officer arranged for 4 announcements at 15 minute intervals to be put out over the tannoy, asking OH to come to the Customer Service desk. In the meantime he called his colleagues to assist, and soon a whole football team of British Transport Police were searching all round the station, including bars and gents, up and down the Strand and even back to the Civil Service Club in Great Scotland Yard. No luck however – and no bodies which was a relief.

I therefore decided to make my way home, and took the next train to Hayes, which, it now being getting on for 8.30 p.m., was almost empty, apart from one or two very merry early Christmas party goers like ourselves.

Arriving at Hayes half an hour later, I spy OH sitting on a bench on the platform, evidently sober and having had plenty of time to work on his story whichof course came to the conclusion it was all my fault. Not only had I made the unforgiveable mistake of leaving my phone at home, but I had  not had the sense to just get the train we had agreed on.  He completely pooh-poohed my protestation that I was reluctant to leave the station because knowing his general state of inebriation, there was also the possibility that he had come to some harm. And I was really scared and worried.

Two buses and almost an hour later we arrived home, me still the villain of the piece.

And this, as mentioned, was just part one of this year’s Christmas/Retirement celebrations. But for me the moral of the story  is – Do not leave home without checking you’ve got your mobile.