Apologies for what is about to happen. It looks like Christmas is truly upon us (me).
It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas.
On Friday we picked up our tree. I say we, but I mean the boy. And it’s the most beautiful, stumpy, plush tree. It’s a boy, clearly. He’s covered in baubles of the finest calibre. I could never not have a tree. It completely transforms the atmosphere and gives me the Christmas tingles than can only mean one thing – it’s imminent! Here he is, in night and daywear.
Now that the tree’s up, it’s acceptable to watch Home Alone, 1 and 2. And laugh my head off. I love them both.
Or rather, moaning about the weather. It really has been dreadful. I don’t mind the cold at all. It’s the wind, rain, hail stones and sleet I have a problem with. Today, for example, I’ve got
wrapping paper to buy stuff to do. I need to leave the house. But it’s so hard to drag myself out there in the torrential rain. And if it stops for a minute, don’t be fooled. It’s on and off like you’ve never known before. Unbearable. I need me some waterproofs.
My Christmas jumper.
I can get away with lots of things now that the tree’s up. It’s my excuse for everything. Like, I keep telling the boy he has to be excited, now the tree’s up. (He’s not). Anyway, I’ve been blasting the Christmas tunes and sporting this rather dashing jumper with joy in my heart.
My favourite Christmas song.
Our cheeks are nice and rosy, and comfy and cosy are we.