WET WET WET…..and yes, although I’m happy to say Love is All Around Us, opening the back door (or is it the front door? – a family conundrum we just can’t agree on!) this morning and finding Marti and the boys singing their way through The Notting Hill playlist would have been the best twelfth day of Christmas EVER. What I was actually greeted with was actual wet. Everywhere a soggy slushy quagmire of wetness. Apparently there’s no such thing as bad weather, just bad clothing but we have every type of ‘weather the storm’ paraphernalia and there is nothing that we could find that would protect us from Monsoon Molly, nothing. So today will be an indoor day of stuff… The Golden One has retreated to barracks, wonder how long that will last….
I had pledged to maintain the decs in all (there were a lot!) their glory until our next family feast day but my sensible self has given me a talking to…. Looking forward is definitely the way to go and I will decorate for our next celebration and those decorations will be gleaming and bright and full of hope and optimism. I’m sure there’ll be a rainbow or two, because after all, you can’t have a rainbow without the rain.
Doing indoors stuff was a pipe dream and after 152 trips to the place where baubles go to rest for another year, I’m pretty sure I’ve spent more time outdoors and wet than indoors and dry. And just when I thought it was all over I found The One that always manages to get away and it’s always one that really matters so can’t just be put randomly in an odd place hoping to be found; it has to go exactly where I’ll expect to find it, even though if I didn’t find it, I wouldn’t have noticed it was missing; if you know what I mean?
When stuff becomes vintage…..
Reindeers de-baubled, snowmen de-scarved, baubles from around the globe as well as closer to home wrapped in faded tissue once more and another year of memories preserved in vintage chocolate tins (of course)…aaahhhh, (stage note) gentle sigh.
5 hours down and I’ve just officially closed Christmas by making a last Yorkshire brew in my fave festive vessel, lovingly transported with its crockery siblings from a jazz weekend in Cork to ours. Have I told you I love Christmas?
There is still a minor (10 feet worth of minor), issue of removing the now naked fir tree from its last resting place before it makes its way to compost (yep, we did it again!). If the petite red-headed tree lopper thought she’d get out of an upper arm workout by going blonde, she’s very much mistaken and it’ll be here waiting for her when she resurfaces.
There are some remnants of the festive bubble still in existence: edible, calorific and scrumptious and they’re not sprouts! I’m almost certain that when the petite one got her festive treat from Fenchurch Street which was basically her own weight in sugar, they were expecting her to be sharing it with a family of at least 24, so looking at the depleted hamper now, I can only assume we have a mouse infestation, there can’t possibly be any other explanation. And further evidence comes from the chocolate tree in the kitchen; once heavily laden with all things bright and beautiful. Who would have thought those pesky rodents would be so partial to a Lindt?
Must remember to get some new weighing scales, think ours are having difficulty calibrating…or maybe the bathroom floor is uneven?
Have you seen my Crocs? 