I adore Christmas. I love the sparkles and the silly songs and the cheesiness of the occasion. It’s my most favourite time of year. I can forgive anyone anything at Christmas … yes, even you PC Do-Gooder folk who like to be seen to be ethically correct.
It usually takes me a while to get into the Christmas spirit though, and this year was no exception. Although we went shopping last Wednesday (a perfect day, not least because shopping on a Wednesday before schools finish for the holidays is oh, so quiet) and are now [nearly] sorted with regards presents, I had no real Oompf! when it came to the whole Yay! thing.
Then I woke up early this morning and wrapped fourteen presents before half past nine.
Go me!
We put our decorations and tree up this afternoon whilst listening to Cheesy (Christmas) Songs on some Cheesy Songs channel on the tellybox. I was – naturally – delighted when East 17 started singing about wanting me to Stay Another Day. I joined in very heartily, remembering most of the words – this was despite the urge to laugh uncontrollably at the chavviness of the video. Nice.
I’m slightly perturbed by the tree though. Every year I buy three or four new decorations (this year I picked up some non-sparkly ones in France) and yet every year there appear to be no more decorations on the damn thing than there were the year before. I blame the Christmas Pixies, who must surely be stealing them for people less fortunate.
Pictures? Why not.
Yes, myself and Orton have been playing.
We went to Woolworths on Thursday night, hoping to grab some bargains in the (up to) 50% off We’re Closing-Down sale. After that experience I have decided that it’s only fair that the company ceases trading; there were no bloody bargains. Woolworths was only ever good for its cheap cafés and its old-fashioned photo-booths, which were perfect for wasting an afternoon at when we should have been in school, learning things. The orange curtain always suited me more than the blue one. I therefore feel no emotion at the (apparent) loss of such an old institution which has graced our High Streets for far too long. I make no apologies for this, despite it appearing that I’m possibly the only person in the whole of the British Isles who really couldn’t care less.
And now, ’tis time for tea.
please God bless my last week at work this year xxx Elsabeth
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