undrunk.

This was the rather charming phrase used by Oliver to describe the state people needed to be in to collect their cars from the pub after a night out. 

I intend to be undrunk throughout January.  The whole of January.  No alcohol.  Dry January.

Eek.

To say I am not looking forward to it is an understatement of some gravitas.  I love my wine.  Since deciding I would not guzzle in January, I have been swigging back cava at an alarming rate.  A bottle a night has been the norm since Christmas Day.  I fear for my liver.  I am reminded of my brother (a hefty drinker in his own right) who airily waved away liver worries with a prediction that by the time his was pickled you would be able to 'get a new one on ebay and get it plumbed in by BUPA'.  God, I hope so.

And so another Christmas has come to pass.  A strange one.  Oliver, having been hyped up about December as a whole since his birthday in June, found his enthusiasm for festive activities waning quickly.  I, disappointed by this inexplicable apathy, felt I had to try too hard to embroil the family in a glow of seasonal happiness and it all seemed a tad false. 

This said, all the usual homey and cosy things bought warm reactions, good food was to be had and lovely pressies to be given and received.  On Boxing Day we had Mark's eldest two children here for lunch.  After an estrangement of nearly seven years, Mark has been meeting up with them - a sudden and unexpected development which initially had me emotionally reeling,  and earlier in the month we all went out for a meal together where Oliver got to spend time with the brother and sister he has not seen since he was about five years old.  There is too much to be said about it all, but - if you had told me three months ago I would be sat around my dining table with my stepchildren on Boxing Day playing board games, laughing and feeling nothing but pleasure, I would have said over my dead body. 

Life turns on a dime.

Adieu, not goodbye

 

 

oh, the joy of cracker gifts

 

 

 

Christmas Eve a-carolling

 

THE gift of the year

 

 



 

FIN.

Am I the only one who doesn't understand Dr Who?

Last night (after finishing my last shift before Christmas Huzzah!) I settled down with a glass of chardonnay and a slab of cheese to watch something (anything other than shitty Match Of The Day yawn) on the Kindle.  I stumbled across an episode of Dr Who - The Wedding Of River Song.  Forty five minutes later I was none the wiser, a good deal more lost in the rifts of time and fighting a rising panic that I just don't get Dr Who in the same way as the entire population, including every ten year old I have ever met. 

Help.  I am getting old before my very eyes. 

I am reminded of the drive-thru Oliver and I visited the other day, where a disembodied voice ('hellowelcometomcdonaldscanItakeyourorder' in the boredest tone imaginable ) urged me to 'checktheorderonthescreenanddriveroundtothenextwindow'.  I then lowered the car window further, leaned out and jabbed ineffectively at the screen.  Oliver was screeching 'what are you doing????'  from the passenger seat, but too late to save me from looking like an old fart with techno-fear who sees a screen and thinks it must be touched in some way. 

I felt a flush creep up my cheeks as I realised my heinous error - it is not a touch screen and never was.  Not even for the one of the previous fourteen times I have visited the drive-thru.  Cripes alive, what was I thinking.  Not only had the teen-bods working in the booths seen the whole thing and surely must be sniggering at the middle aged lady with the bad hairdo, but a line of cars behind bore witness to my shame.  I tried to laugh it off, but Oliver had firmly stuck his head between his knees at this stage and was refusing to show his face until we had left McDonalds far behind us.

Meh.

And so today it is Christmas Eve. My favouritest day of the year, as it goes.  There is a buzz about it - a sense of anticipation and waiting, of Good Christmassy Telly, exciting food and the knowledge that it is finally OK to randomly eat sweeties and drink wine before lunchtime.  Not that I will (today) actually, as I have to go out into the bleak midwinter and visit the hell hole that is Sainsburys.  I went there yesterday - amidst the foulest wind and rain I have seen here for years to battle the hoards for packets of ham and beef brisket etc etc.  It all went well, too well in fact, and Oliver even didn't put on his special shopping face for me.  At the checkout, I was a little stunned to receive a bill of £160, being that this was the final 'top-up shop'.  When I finally got round to checking the receipt, at home drying off in my pyjamas, it became apparent I had been overcharged slightly for the orange pepper I had purchased.  Overcharged £63.20 as it goes.  Bloody dozy bint had put through 80 peppers at 80p, instead of 1 pepper at 80p.  Jeepers.  I ask you.  This would be quite funny if it didn't mean I have to venture out AGAIN to sort out someone else's mistake.  The thought of fighting tooth and nail for a car space and the queue at Customer Services is making me feel quite weepy. 

ANYhoo, the essence of festive cheer will remain untouched, and I am filled with the germ of excitement that is Christmas.  Huzzah indeed.

December doings:

busy at work. 

 

 



 The Music Room, Killerton House (National Trust)

Fireside reading in the dining room, Killerton

 

Mrs Claus's kitchen.  Hmmm.

The magnificent Cathedral amidst the Christmas Market

 

Town centre, late night Christmas shopping

 Babbacombe Model Village, Winter Wonderland

 

Des Res.

 Sutton Coldfield Cities (Pokémon)

 

 

A proper café.

 

 

A Happy Christmas to you

X

 

rush job

This is going to turn into a Bad Idea. 

I do not have the time to blog today.  I have my Christmas Journal sitting all over the table which is limping along badly this year.  I keep dragging Oliver to Sainsburys to print out yet more photos on their ridiculously expensive instant kiosk machine and he keeps griping for England.

I have (almost) half a crochet cushion cover competed for a lady I want to visit before Christmas.  I have glibly stated it will be done with lots of casual waves and smiles, although Mark has already snorted heavily about this one.  My Christmas crochet blanket, at 49 squares is not going to make it to 70 and bordered before Christmas, so it has been abandoned crossly as a next-year job.

I have wrapped not one present, as I have saved it all up for tonight when Mark is absent from the house so I can team the paper frenzy with lots of wine, pizza and Moonstruck, one of, if not THE all time favourite for me.  I only watch it once a year, but boy, it does NOT feel like 12 months since the last viewing.

I have not thought about The Christmas Food shop.  I have a frozen chicken and a gammon joint which is good for the next 5 years in the fridge to be going along with, a tub of biscuits for cheese disappearing at an alarming rate and No Veg.  Will revisit this later in the week.

We have just spent the weekend travelling from Cornwall to Wales for Oliver to compete in Pokémon tournaments.  It rained and rained.  In both counties.  In fact it was probably the same bloody rain following us up the M4 out of spite.  He did pretty well, 5th in the Regional in Cornwall and 2nd in the Cities in Wales.  The whole exercise was one of point-gathering for the Worlds in Washington DC next year, so hopefully it was worth it....

We had a holiday in Egypt last month - it was all very lovely indeed - snorkelling with the fishies is out of this world, despite Oliver leaping from the water on day 2 onto the jetty yelling 'Shark! There's a Shark!' in plain view of several startled holidaymakers.  I was hissing viciously for him to shut the bugger up, particularly as I was still actually in the water at the time, but he insisted he'd seen a large grey pointy nosed fish with gills.  He refused to go in after that.  I'm not kidding.  I think it was panic clouding his vision - he'd been so sure there were going to be sharks - so there were.  We now refer to it as the 'shark'.  And we do those finger symbols in the air too. 

I expect there are shed loads of other titbits, but that's your lot for now.  Some piccies:

 

View from our rather posh whirlpool on the balcony room

Off to feed the sharks my ample buttocks.

 

 First Sunday in Advent

 

 

Regionals

Cities

C'est tout.