began brilliantly. We had a lovely meal in good company at Janet's house and discovered Scots people don't sing 'for the sake of' in auld lang syne. Allegedly.
Home by about 12.45 and I was in the bathroom getting ready for bed when the phone rang. Husband answered it in the bedroom and I wandered in thinking it must be one of the children (although nobody planned on staying up for New Year as far as we knew). Husband's face was very serious and I could hear a male voice on the other end of the phone and it sounded a little like Elder Son.
I went cold. Something must have happened to GrandSon. Something terrible obviously. My body started to disappear away from me and then Husband smiled and said, 'Well, we can't do anything till morning. Thanks for letting us know.'
Letting us know? Of course they'd let us know if GrandSon's in hospital. Or worse. And why couldn't we do anything until morning? We'd go now if we had to. And how could he smile?!
'That was Andrew,' Husband said. 'Somebody drove into their car and they think ours may have been damaged too so I'd better go and look.'
'The car? That's all?'
A minor inconvenience compared to my imaginings. Do parents/grandparents ever stop imagining the worst?
It turned out that while we'd been parked at our friends' house, in a quiet avenue, someone had crashed into the back of the car of more friends and as it was damaged on the front and had been parked behind us it must have been shunted into ours. Theirs was a write-off and they had to get a taxi home. They imagined they'd not have much hope of finding out who did it
We'd left before them and driven home oblivious but we've discovered that the back is dented and will need new doors and bumper etc.
Fortunately today a furious father took his 18-year-old son around to apologise to our friends and to exchange insurance details. That's one young lad who's going to remember this New Year's eve.
I'm just grateful it was only a bit of metal.