So how was it for you?
It was fun for me and here's why:
I have been doing so much running about lately that I've lost the last of my pregnancy weight and so don't feel threatened at all by the vast quantities of rich foods that accompany Christmas. They should feel threatened by me.
It is lovely to indulge on naughty food and even nicer to have been catered for on Christmas Day (we had lunch at the Nick Nick Diddlings, who slaved away in the kitchen and provided a slap up, top-notch feast).
We managed to find one day to put aside for Christmas shopping, which was a relief. I find that the pleasure of receiving gifts is dulled slightly if I'm unable to reciprocate. Not that I only give presents so I can enjoy mine, good lord no, it's just that we have had so much help recently that it would have been unbearable to have been unable to give something back, no matter how disproportionate and inadequate.
We have a huge Christmas tree. Harriet's dad sent us out on a foggy night with instructions to buy a 6 foot-ish tree. I found the farm and parked up, and then Harriet and I weaved through the Spruces looking for 'our' tree. Well, I looked for the tree. Harriet spent the whole time looking at me, searching my face for clues as to why I had dragged her out to this god-forsaken place, at this time of night, in this weather. She did not approve.
Nor did she approve when a huge tree was shoved next to her in the car, dropping its needles and being all smelly. We got it home and it turns out I'm no good a gauging sizes as the tree stands a proud seven and a half foot at least. In my defence ish is not an exact measurement is it? It could be two inches. It could be a foot and a half. It could be even more. Luckily it wasn't on this occasion, but it could have been is all I'm saying.
Finally I can get into the Christmas spirit again without feeling like a tit. It's all for Harriet now so the magic of the season has re-entered my life.
It was just marvellous to wake up with Harriet on Christmas morning. I know it'll sound mushy but what the heck, Harriet was the only present I needed.
Bluueergh.
Boxing Day will actually involve boxes this year as I intend to empty the last boxes of our belongings and get everything in its place today. Our new house already feels like home. I can't put my finger on what it is that makes it feel so. It could be that I now no longer walk into the cupboard when I'm actually meaning to go to the bathroom. It could be that I no longer fumble around for light switches. Or that I'm already familiar with the creaks and bangs that are peculiar to this building. Maybe it's just that our knickers are in the knickers drawer, our toothbrushes are in their pot and we've christened the toilets.
Who knows?
Merry Christmas to you, thanks for looking in, stop playing about on the Internet, and get back to stuffing your face with chocolate.
It was fun for me and here's why:
I have been doing so much running about lately that I've lost the last of my pregnancy weight and so don't feel threatened at all by the vast quantities of rich foods that accompany Christmas. They should feel threatened by me.
It is lovely to indulge on naughty food and even nicer to have been catered for on Christmas Day (we had lunch at the Nick Nick Diddlings, who slaved away in the kitchen and provided a slap up, top-notch feast).
We managed to find one day to put aside for Christmas shopping, which was a relief. I find that the pleasure of receiving gifts is dulled slightly if I'm unable to reciprocate. Not that I only give presents so I can enjoy mine, good lord no, it's just that we have had so much help recently that it would have been unbearable to have been unable to give something back, no matter how disproportionate and inadequate.
We have a huge Christmas tree. Harriet's dad sent us out on a foggy night with instructions to buy a 6 foot-ish tree. I found the farm and parked up, and then Harriet and I weaved through the Spruces looking for 'our' tree. Well, I looked for the tree. Harriet spent the whole time looking at me, searching my face for clues as to why I had dragged her out to this god-forsaken place, at this time of night, in this weather. She did not approve.
Nor did she approve when a huge tree was shoved next to her in the car, dropping its needles and being all smelly. We got it home and it turns out I'm no good a gauging sizes as the tree stands a proud seven and a half foot at least. In my defence ish is not an exact measurement is it? It could be two inches. It could be a foot and a half. It could be even more. Luckily it wasn't on this occasion, but it could have been is all I'm saying.
Finally I can get into the Christmas spirit again without feeling like a tit. It's all for Harriet now so the magic of the season has re-entered my life.
It was just marvellous to wake up with Harriet on Christmas morning. I know it'll sound mushy but what the heck, Harriet was the only present I needed.
Bluueergh.
Boxing Day will actually involve boxes this year as I intend to empty the last boxes of our belongings and get everything in its place today. Our new house already feels like home. I can't put my finger on what it is that makes it feel so. It could be that I now no longer walk into the cupboard when I'm actually meaning to go to the bathroom. It could be that I no longer fumble around for light switches. Or that I'm already familiar with the creaks and bangs that are peculiar to this building. Maybe it's just that our knickers are in the knickers drawer, our toothbrushes are in their pot and we've christened the toilets.
Who knows?
Merry Christmas to you, thanks for looking in, stop playing about on the Internet, and get back to stuffing your face with chocolate.
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