Readers, you have no idea how tiring it is in the run-up to Christmas. I really am absolutely shattered and can barely lift my head from the sofa. All the coming and going, endless shopping trips, frantic hoovering and tidying up – honestly, it is so taxing. Thank goodness that Christmas is only a couple of days away now, as I’m not sure how much more I could endure.
It simply comes down to a question of organisation, Friends. I’ve said this many times before but my family does not learn. I cannot imagine that anyone else has made THREE yes THREE trips to supermarkets in the space of one day today. This is shoddy planning – the third trip was necessitated because the tree lights that had taken an hour to untangle this afternoon didn’t actually work. Wouldn’t you have TRIED the lights before spending an hour untangling them? Of course you would. Then you wouldn’t have wasted a further half an hour finding those little white fuse bulbs that have been put in a ‘safe place’, and jamming them aggressively into the plastic casing in the hope that the ruddy lights will work. They won’t. And thus there is a third trip to Tesco, this time in a foul mood, to buy a replacement cheap and nasty set. She just does not learn, year after year.
And have we finished yet? No of course not. The fridge is full of wonderful -smelling food such as a large turkey, lots of cold meats and some interesting cheeses but the smoked salmon is yet to be purchased, as is the large salmon for Boxing Day. There will be yet another stressy dash to town on Christmas Eve. It exhausts me just thinking about it.
However, Friends, I am very pleased to report that I have seen TWO boxes of Tempura Prawns being shoved into the freezer – Regular Readers will remember that last year I was particularly fond of a Tempura Prawn. Excellent. And the mozzarella bites don’t look bad either. Grandma is coming to lunch on Christmas Day, amongst others, and she has promised to bring me a box of Tempura Prawns too! I think they’re for me, anyway.
But really all this rushing around is too much. It started yesterday – poor Young Lad was the only one still at school, so he was dropped off at normal time and the first of many trips into town was made on the way back. Via Costalotta, it has to be said. She ‘needed’ thirty minutes with the newspaper and an Americano before facing Christmas, apparently. What utter nonsense. Lad was still asleep in bed – despite his scolding for his inferior supervision of me the day before and the resulting chaos – so I was taken out for a lovely long walk. She and I were feeling really positive and had a spring in our steps – it was a lovely day down at the river, and all felt right with the world. It felt even more right up in Top Field, when I found the biggest pile of fox poo the world has ever seen. The first She knew of this was when She looked back from half a mile across the field, to see my paws waving in the air in total ecstasy. Suddenly all was no longer right with the world – I cannot tell you what the language was like, but I was shocked – and She came running across the field at me, screaming bad things and waving the long pink ball-flinger thing. It was far too late, of course. I was covered from head to foot.
Such was the smell that I could hear gagging and retching all the way home, which was rather melodramatic if you ask me.
I was unceremoniously dumped in the bath and scrubbed to within an inch of my life and then the bldy bathroom had to be bldybleached from top to bottom. Oh the moaning. “I haven’t got time for this today,” blah blah blah. It went on and on.
So that was my second pre-Christmas bath and amongst the swearing I could hear the words “not going off the lead until the New Year.” This is totally unreasonable and simply a knee-jerk reaction to a minor misdemeanour.
Lad finally surfaced yesterday but seemed very stressed about the number of things he needed to do. He complained that there was far too much to do in one day. Lad had got out of bed at 11.30am, and so there was a discussion about Time Management and the importance of getting one’s backside out of bed a bit earlier. Poor Lad. Anyway he moved up a gear or two, and went out for lunch with Lovelydor down the road, followed by a trip to the optician, followed by going to visit our dear friend Sicknote.
Readers, normally I go to visit Sicknote, but yesterday I was left at home! This was very hurtful. She said She would take Lad as he smelled better than I did, plus he doesn’t try to attack the Basset puppy who gets on my nerves with her infernal playfulness and jollity. So due to my odour and bad social skills, I was left behind. I was not best pleased about this.
It was quite a nice evening I suppose, last night with people cuddled up on the sofa watching Chicago Fire yet again and having nice drinks. If only life was always like this.
Then today it’s been rush, rush, rush. Well. She has done a lot of rushing, rushing, rushing and poor He and Lad did have to drive all the way to Stratford to watch Wet Sham lose again. This was a very trying afternoon for them, and no less frustrating than the non-working tangled tree lights. She does not have the monopoly on frustration in this house, though you would think otherwise. Even Young Lad had his fair share of it today – having made a late decision to go to the cinema with his friend, the only film that had spare seats was The Grinch. Really they should have thought this through better – why were there spare seats when every other film was sold out? Yes indeed. It was an inferior film, and Young Lad and his friend decided to leave once they had finished their jumbo popcorn and drink. The bus ride home in the dark was more enjoyable than the film, they said.
To celebrate nailing a parking spot in the supermarket at 8.30am and completing the HUGE Christmas food shop by 10am, She met her good friend Loadsakids for coffee. Loadsakids said she never lets her dog off the lead these days as the git rolls in cack at every opportunity and as it is a cocker spaniel type of git, it has very curly fur from which it is difficult to remove fox cack or dead rat. Anyway, Loadsakids and She discussed their teenagers and moaned/laughed/cried/rocked silently for forty-five minuets after which they both felt much better and wished each other a Merry Christmas.
Well, Readers, the house looks almost ready for Christmas but I know for a fact that no presents have been wrapped or delivered and Time Is Running Out, I’ve heard a few times in a woman-on-the-edge type of high-pitched voice. Nevertheless, it is now time to sit down with Gordon and a chunk of ice, to think about Time Running Out.
Give me strength.
See you soon,