Fa la la la la

la la la la.

Quite a lot has been going on lately, not least this:

Oh yes, the festive season is once more upon us, and we kicked off here on Friday with the annual putting up of the tree and getting out of 'stuff'.  We love it.  Yesterday Mark put up the ceiling deccies and our two main rooms look like Santa's Grotto.  Will share dec pics at a later time.

In other news, I think this looks better with another white band in:

and Oliver won the Pokemon Trading Card Game Regionals last weekend. 

Although this seems like a small fry on-the-fringe kind of thing in the UK, it is a big thing globally.  In August, the winners of the Nationals got an invite for the Worlds - in Hawaii.  Next August they are in Vancouver.  Whether or not Oliver gets an invite depends on his performance in the Nationals in June.  He is at the top of the junior age group and quite an experienced player so there is every chance he could pull it out of the bag.  Whilst I would be thrilled for him at the once in a lifetime chance to take part in such an event, the thought of finding three grand for flights for us all is making me feel a bit faint.   Bridge cross that when etc etc.

Yesterday I tramped around a very wet and very cold golf course with Oliver playing in a junior roll up.  I think it fair to say that neither of us wanted to be there and although he played some very good shots on some holes, it was an experience neither of us are keen to repeat any time soon.  I was wearing my Mum's golf shoes which are very new and very white which gave the appearance of  two giant peppermints at the end of my trousers.  Not nice. Mark meanwhile sat smugly at home in the warm.  He did his turn a couple of weeks ago and came home swearing and moaning.  Much as did I yesterday. 

The whole process was not helped by one of the other parents who took it upon himself to be coach/rulebook and etiquette advisor to those unfortunate enough to have to amble round with him.  I put up with him questioning Oliver's choice of club.  I put up with him telling Oliver to hold the pin (flag for us non-golfers) for the other lads whilst they were putting.  I put up with him (wrongly as it turns out) advising on how many shots per hole they were allowed.  On the third hole I lost my temper and used my special voice on him.  Therein endeth the lesson.

It was with some pleasure that I watched his son take a swing on the fourth tee, miss the ball completely and launch his club over the hedge instead.  Tee hee. 

So, Christmas jollities to be getting on with, fare thee well.

Ye gads.