BONFIRE Night was a disappointment. No village celebrations and not a single request either at home or in the city for a penny for a guy. It was as if the infamous Yorkshireman Guy Fawkes – yes, hard to believe though it is, there were and are, infamous Yorkshiremen – had been relegated to second spot by overblown American-style Halloween activities.

I had only one call on October 31 – from three lads whom I knew and recognised in spite of their outfits and make-up. I know it’s an old gag, but when they demanded “Trick or treat?” I said I would prefer a treat and asked what was in their bags.

No amount of make-up could hide their expressions as they tried to explain that it was not an offer or a choice. Either dish up or risk the consequences. I gently argued the grammar of their original words until one spotted a split-second grin and told his chums they were being teased.

Double sweets they demanded. Double they got.

FORWARD again to November 5. While searching for Christmas gift possibilities for my younger grandsons, I met four-year-old Elizabeth – not her real name as you’ll soon see why. She was studying what was on offer in Botley Road’s Toys R Us. She was with her smartly dressed 30-ish mother and equally well-attired yet more stricken in years grandmother.

“What do you want Father Christmas to bring you?” I asked as she moved from dolls to cots.

“I’m getting a baby sister...” she said without looking around, “called Gemma.”

I was about to congratulate her mother not only on the forthcoming event but also for the sylph-like figure she had maintained so deep into her pregnancy. She shook her head.

“It’s her imagination,” she said sharply, clearly wanting the matter to rest with that reply. But it was not to be.

“Her husband walked out a year ago and she hasn’t been with a man since,” chimed in grandma somewhat loudly, giving more information than was necessary and earning a glare from her daughter.

“I’m going to look after Gemma,” said the would-be elder sister, before being told by mum that ‘the man didn’t want to know’.

“I keep telling her she should get a divorce, find someone else and start a new life,” said grandma, now in full flow, adding choice remarks about her errant son-in-law and what she would like to do to him.

Her daughter’s requests for silence went unheeded while granddaughter repeated her baby-minding promise. It seemed a good time to say goodbye and move on.

That’ll teach me to ask someone of tender years what she wants for Christmas.