An unexpectedly busy New Year’s Eve

Started the day sleeping in the basement. I’d awoken and been unable to get back to sleep, so noblesse oblige. Mrs. Ottawacker had taken Ottawacker Jr. out on a bus ride when I emerged, blinking and farting into the morning light, so I made some coffee and made the supreme effort to have a shower. As I said yesterday, I am beginning to measure my achievements differently these days.
 
I did manage to accomplish a few things though. I booked Di Salvo’s field for Ottawacker Jr.’s birthday party (which is going to happen a week after the event, as he has no practice on that day), and sent invites to those select band of people who are to be invited. Oh, and I cooked a duck. For today, we have Dirk coming to visit and stay for a couple of days – and we have no fatted calf.
 
We realised rather late that we had agreed to go to our neighbour’s place in the evening for a few drinks, so had to cancel. I hate doing that – I always feel as if the excuse is rather pathetic (“we have a friend arriving from Quebec City”). I’m pretty sure they wouldn’t have minded his presence if we said “can he come?”, but I hate to ask. So, instead, we sent Ottawacker Jr. over in the evening and he represented us, playing pickleball against the wall in the basement.
 
Early afternoon, we had a catch-up Skype with our friends out in BC, whose mission appears to be to fill our fridge remotely. With the postal strike now over, they sent close to a quarter of a ton of baking… it came out of the box bag by bag, and we tried to do our best to not let our eyes light up at the cookies and chocolates… Really generous people.
 
Got an email from a friend, formerly of Paris, who followed his Le Monde-journalist wife for Burbank, California, where she is working as the (or a) U.S. correspondent. He tried his best to not let the glee shine through (“le moment est mal choisi” and “avec le couillon qui arrive au pouvoiur, qui sait ce qui va se passer?”) but, really, I could tell he was happy tanning his bald pate under the Hollywood sign rather than working in IT in the pouring rain at La Défense.
 
Dirk arrived a little later than planned, having driven via Hawksbury. The three of us sat down to a series of apéritifs before the duck was served. It was drier than it should have been – but that’s what happens when you get sidetracked. At least it was cooked. Dirk had brought along the contents of his fridge, plenty of beer and a couple of bottles of wine, one of which caught Ottawacker Jr.’s attention before he left for the party. As I say, with friends like this, who needs enemas?
 
Mrs. Ottawacker went off to be around 10 and that meant that Dirk, Ottawacker Jr. and I sat up to welcome in the new year. After the youngster had made it to bed, Dirk and I went through a great deal of rhum arrangé and put the world to rights.
 
Happy New Year to you all. May health and happiness thrive in the blipperverse.