Merry Christmas dear reader, I hope it’s a good one without any tears, or should that be fears. Hey ho, (ho ho). So are you ready, have you shopped, dropped and got up again? Are your clicks collected and all your delivery men signed for? Well – well done you, congratulations. Could I ask how you did it? How, with still, a whopping 48 hours to go, you’ve caught the sprouts, stuffed every cavity and fully basted everything?
Two weeks ago, I was on track with Christmas, dangerously close to organised. So I took my eye off the bauble to finally crack writing a couple of thousand words that would not get themselves out of my head and onto some paper, but as I hit the final full-stop the clock struck Christmas!
The last posting day shot past the window, I chased it but it got away. (I enclose your card below, I’m sure it’s the thought that counts).
The turkey is a frozen boulder that will possibly thaw in time for New Year.
And Santa dumped an unwrapped pile of pressies higher than the Preselis, in my secret-nobody-will-find-present-hiding-place, that everyone seems to know about. What happened to Santa’s Elves, aren’t they supposed to handle this kind of stuff? Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for delegation but an entire job swap?
Feeling overwhelmed, I headed for Parkrun, where I found the Elves running not wrapping.
When I got home Small 2 had shrink-wrapped herself in the last roll of Sellotape whilst large Twenteen finished off the plate of mince pies I’d made for the old lady across the road.
Can you ‘Skidoosh’ Christmas?
(Skidoosh: It’s a Kung-Fu Panda thing)
Your Card xx
Last minute Christmas read?