Pals! Well what a whirlwind of festive shenanigans it has been. We did something terribly exciting and entirely unprecedented this year. We went away and stayed in a spiffy hotel for a few days of family gathering together time, overeating and impromptu snoozes. What larks and luxury! 

The only down side was a rather long journey to get there in the car – as I find myself unable to sit down during any arduous automobile trek. Instead I stood tall and surfed the great roads to Norwich, where we eventually ended up at the George Hotel, having battled and jousted our way through the Christmas traffic. By the time we arrived I was a mite tired after so much car balancing but I was encouraged to see that the hotel was excellently equipped to cater for the whims of a Spindlesome hound AND the bar had cocktails…on tap! I had visions of rigging up a device – a cushioned board with wheels if you will – on which I could recline and be gently launched from one end of the bar to the other, attempting to quaff each cocktail on my way past. This could then be developed into a relay race…I made a mental note to propose the idea during breakfast the next day. Our trip was I am delighted to say, a fabulous few days, and we all concluded it was a tremendous success. 

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Skip fifty fathoms and a couple of hundred miles later and we come to New Years Eve. This year, or as it turns out now as I write, last year, Hector, Muvver and I piled into the car, festooned with bags of nibbles, fizzy giddy juice and a single foccacia that muvver made. I am drawing attention to the singular of the bread offering as there should have been two, but she managed to burn one as when distracted by Hector who was excitedly showcasing his new Christmas cravat. He was cavorting around the kitchen, Gandalf hair untethered and whirling around as he flapped about the ends of the purple neck snake. The artist formerly known as Mince. Anyhow, this naturally caught both of our attentions, although thankfully I wasn’t in charge of the oven at the time.  

Words were said. Nethertheless, we sorted out the sartorial based spat and later that evening we were finally strapped into the party charabanc, in our most special outfits…the theme was crinolines and canapes and we looked fabulous! We had all been buffed to a high sheen, powdered and pomaded and in my case de-fleaed.

The party was being hosted by good friends of ours – naturally as it would be strange if we turned up to a strangers house for frolics and fuzzy navels (in this instance I mean the drink ‘fuzzy navel’, just so we are on the same page). 

The evening went very well. The food was sublime, the drink was being generously topped up by the grand host Nick…and then the games began. As ever there were high pitched shrieks (Hector) and ribald language (muvver). A game was played involving a kazoo and spirited performances of songs through the ages…the 90’s seemed to be a favourite which can happily pin point our demographic. May I say that DJ Alan’s rendition of the Prodigy was superb and would be talked about for years to come. I would also like to point out that is very difficult for a hound to master the kazoo. Between you and I pals, I think I did rather well, although it did cause a fizzy tickle sensation on my whiskers (and muvvers too).

We then played a version of charades, where we all wrote down five famous peoples name on a piece of paper and put them into a top hat (bobble hat). During the the first round, we were allowed to give spoken clues to try and decipher who the person was, whch we were all quite used to. As you would expect this went as well as it would when you mix a rabble of revellers with a plethora of cocktails and the challenge of forming a coherent sentence. The second round proceeded very much in the same way, although we could only use one word now to describe our famous people. Slightly more difficult and much mirth was had when Beaker from the muppets came up when the performer looked truly unhinged.

It was during the third round when we could only describe the person through the medium of mime when things started to unravel. It was at this point that muvver realised her folly in one of her choices, as when she delved into the bobble hat of destiny, she pulled out ‘Lady Fanny Button’ from the TV series “Ghosts”. Yes pals, I know. The last time I had seen such scurrilous miming as that was in the Velvet Marmoset nightclub, on the now banned ‘Avant Garde puppet night’.

Silence ruled the room for quite a few moments, but not as long as it took for them to try and coax Hector out of the linen cupboard. The game was swiftly abandoned as we had all lost concentration and all filed through in a subdued crocodile formation to settle in the relaxing sofa chamber. Emergency cups of tea and custrard creams were shared between us and once again a calm equilibrium existed.

Thankfully, Jools Holland had taken up residence in a small boxed stage in the corner of the room so we watched that and regained our sensibilities, tapped our feet jauntily and looked forward to a brighter day in 2023.

Shortly afterwards the clock sang it’s time tune, we all hugged and then we were escorted off the premises. A cracking night I think you will agree, of which I delighted to account to you all.

Having done this my great pals, I am off to have a nibble on the devilled prawns that I stashed behind the sofa earlier. I am exhausted having just had to administer emergency first aid to Hector who discovered the thermo nuclear properties of a Portuguese custard tart fresh out of the oven. He has looked sad and feeble jawed ever since. 

Have a very happy new year my wonderful pals, thank you for reading my tales.

With love

Elsie Spindlehound

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