(no subject)

For my mother and I lunchtime today saw a last hurrah for Christmas 2006, as we were guests at the Hampshire Association for Care for the Blind Gosport Branch Christmas Dinner. The lunch was held at the Clarence Arms; they still had their Christmas decorations up. Peter, one of the volunteers, said over the last few days the bar staff had been having people asking them to take them down, so the bar staff had explained they were just being left up until today for the sake of the dinner. We were standing in the foyer talking to the volunteers for about half an hour, as there was some hitch or other getting lunch started and my mother got trapped with a bloke who wanted to pontificate about politics because she was the Mayor. My fellow poetry enthusiast Julia turned out to be a volunteer for the charity, so I talked to her most of the time. The barmaid insisted on giving my mother and me our drinks free - even better, they served London Pride.

Then, finally, we went through for lunch. Because that guy had kept my mother talking while most of the guests had gone in, we were left with the last two seats, at a table right at the back of the room. Brian, the chairman, was apologetic about that but we assured him it didn't matter. What my mother was bothered about, though, was that those two seats faced away from the front - she said she felt rude if she sat with her back to everybody - so Brian asked someone sitting on the other side to swap seats with us.

We were sat with two of the volunteers we'd spoken to earlier - not Julia, but not the pontificator either. They were decent chaps, and I was able, to a degree, to join their conversations on sweated labour, Eastern Europe, Southampton's Polish community, how money is ruining the Premiership, and England's failing fortunes at rugby and cricket. Everyone had a Christmas cracker: my mother was next to a 100-year-old blind lady and her daughter, and the old lady insisted on pulling her cracker with me ma before starter had even been served! The food was very nice; I had lamb for main course, then the waitress came round and asked what we'd all ordered for dessert. I said Christmas pudding - then asked her whether there was a choice of custard or cream. She hesitated, then asked what I'd like on mine. I chose cream. Full marks to the volunteer caterers for that. I hate to do anything that sounds like complaining in any way, as it was for charity and provided by volunteers, but I do have to say the portions of Christmas pud were a little on the small side. Never mind, it was nice anyway.

After coffee and After Eights came the raffle. My mother drew the first winning ticket, then the lady who'd won that prize pulled out one of my numbers. Someone shouted 'fix' as I walked to the front. I was offered a choice of a bottle of red wine or a box of Mingles. Having stuffed myself with sweets over the last three weeks, I really should have picked the wine, but wasn't thinking straight and went for the Mingles. As soon as I sat back down at our table I regretted the decision, but soon made my mind up that I wouldn't eat the Mingles myself but would put them on the table at work tomorrow. As we don't normally have any nibbles on Fridays, it'll be a nice treat for the girls.

A couple of people had two tickets drawn, but both of them refused a second prize. My mother had just one of her tickets drawn, but refused a prize on the grounds that I'd won one! That's taking it too far, methinks. After the raffle draw, my mother and I walked around the room chatting to the blind guests.

Home to get changed, then popped down to the library to collect the Black Widowers book I'd reserved. I'd intended to have a relaxing hour reading it while the parents were at a council meeting, but was interrupted twice by the phone - both were people wanting my mother :( After that, my presence was required at a council candidate selection meeting. The lady I wanted to get the nomination didn't.

At 8.30, home at last for supper and a cup of coffee.