Wouldn’t it be nice if I carried on writing long blog postings, even though I’m no longer limited to how often I post them? If I kept up this rate of wordage on a daily basis and became almost an obsessional writer who churns out thousands of words a day, like Enid Blyton did, but online.
It’s very unlikely, but wouldn’t it be nice?
Today I am content to be going to bed, knowing that tomorrow morning I can turn over the RSPB calendar and see a lovely picture of a robin resting on a fencepost in a snowy garden, underneath the word ‘December.’ It’s the most wonderful time of the year, even though I’m not really into it yet. I have not bought one present, nor had one thought about what the presents I haven’t bought yet might eventually be, nor compiled my usual annual CD-of-Christmas-stuff-to-listen-to-in-the-car, nor thought about new decorations, or where we might have stored the old ones, and yet somehow there is a twinkle in my minds eye that wasn’t there this morning.
We are on the cusp of Christmas, my friends. Joy to us all!
In other news, Sophie and Tamara aren’t speaking to each other. My sister has asked if she can come and spend all Christmas with us because (and this is a direct quote) “If I have to be with that selfish bitch much longer I’ll be strangling her with tinsel and shoving a mince pie up her craphole. In that order….”
There is often trouble in that particular corner of paradise, so I’m not surprised the seas of Sophieland are choppy once more. I shall offer a disinterested ear and wait until it all blows over and they lock themselves away in a hotel room somewhere to make up for all the unpleasantness. Until that day comes, I can refuse to let it upset my impending yuletide enjoyments by mostly ignoring it. Being selfish, misanthropic and with a total lack of empathy may not make me a nice person, but it makes life easier for me, and that’s the most important thing.
SEE YOU IN CHRISTMAS MONTH!!!!!!
RC 30-11-16
No comments:
Post a Comment