Nobody, nobody at all, absolutely no one, empty, not a single person. totally quiet, odd, after all, last time, it had been rammed, but no, it was empty, we were the only ones, where was everybody, what was going on. After all, we had gathered at Oakley, set off newt hunting, with great success, lots and lots of them, more of them than us, must be that time of year, so round we went, up the muddy track, past that place where we must not go, and on to Small Staple, on quite a clear night. Down to the leat and over the aqueduct to the bullstone and leaning post, and up to Pew back to the cars and to the Whitty, But, what a surprise, it was quiet, quiet and empty, no one at all, nobody. just us, and we were treated, yes treated to a birthday drink, very nice, and, of course, we sat at our table.