I am happy to report, that in this part of NE Hampshire at least, Christmas is over.
Yesterday I posted my cards. This is the only concession I make towards recognising that the festival exists at all. My Christmas cards consist of several bought from a suitable right-on charity for my elderly relatives, and several dozen truly cheap and tasteless home produced monstrosities that go to dear and loved friends all over the world – Hawaii, Australia, Texas and even Belgium.
I gauge the success of the card by the number of litres of vomit produced by the lovely Mrs S. when she first sees them.
I can now safely bolt the door, and semi-hibernate for a couple of weeks. I will try very hard to avoid conversations about the season, resist the urge to smack anyone who says “… and all the trimmings”, resist even harder the urge to watch anything on TV that contains the sub-title “Christmas special”, and begin the long and anxious period of praying for inspiration for the design of next year’s festive card.
7 comments:
Huh. Call yersel' a radical? Over here at Gamon acres, we don't even bother buying the cards in the first place.
Correction. I don't even bother buying them. Somehow they find their way into the house anyway.
Mine will be finding its way into your house in the next few days, unless you have a special relationship with your postman.
bwkdw - welsh library party
The Trimmings aren't invited to our house any more.
I am in a filthy mood after looking around the shops for cards for hours this morning. It seems I've left it too late as the only ones left are of the "From a loving stepson and his third wife" variety.
I've been scowling so much I now look like Sylvester Stallone's mother.
Christ Betty, that's a bad, bad look. However I don't believe a word of it and will always dispell that image from my mind. I myself am looking very like Ozzy Osbourne these days and I'm just trying to feel proud.
Vics: dear chum, see you have had a makeover since I was last sentient - could you not have done something about that frightful beardy picture? Honestly, how does Mrs S put up with you?
Caroline.
PS I still love you no matter what, and I want you to know that. Be strong.
She's back! She's back! It's the same one.
Well, how good to have you back. And my real picture is a damn sight worse than the einstein clone, I can tell you.
But, and I know you can take a minor rebuke, "how does she put up with you" is the least original remark ever made about my marriage.
Oh Vicki....Vicki,Vicki, Vicki.... it’s 'so not' as my 12 year old would say. Mrs S and I are in regular correspondence - you KNOW that. Least said soonest mended eh?
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