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

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