Heard of “stir up Sunday”. Forget it, old hat, so last year dear. Today we have warble and bauble day decorating the house and the tree. It’s been a long standing tradition in this household for at least half an hour since Sandie announced it had arrived.
Carols on the stereo blasting out Neil Diamond (“Take it away boys!” he urges the band in a really hip joyful tone that says we are having a hugely good time in July, but they never do), the warm aroma of freshly cooked mince pies, the faint trace of Tia Maria in the coffee scenting the room, and now this year we have the scent of wood smoke and a dense fog through which to navigate, and the noise! Sandie joining in singing along, belting out the numbers one by one, with a wooden spoon held in the mic position running upstairs to pose in front of the dressing room mirror, reindeer antlers perched precariously on her head. This year we have warned air traffic control that the tree is lit; apparently it’s visible at 40,000 ft as overhead, passengers jet off to Ameriky to escape.
Me? Imoutahere. If I survive I’ll see you later today when I report back on progress.
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