Saturday, January 3, 2009

Yuletide Blog

This festive season has been just like Santa’s sack – bursting with goodies. I’ll leave the socks, chocolate and pj’s to one side and tell you a little about the real surprises that made this Christmas memorable.

It all started with an egg. Yes, I know that’s more Easter than Christmas, but go with it for now. Returning from a pre-Christmas trip to the local shops, I happened upon a street sign lurking menacingly near the top of my road. Showing no sign of festive goodwill, said sign made no attempt to get out of my way, so it was left to my skill and judgement with my trusty long cane to avoid it. It’s amazing how hard an immovable object is when you walk into one, even at low speeds. And so, just like the virgin Mary, my bump formed without any human intervention and I staggered back home, with help from my boy LG (Little Guy) who did a good job of looking after the old man.

I haven’t had too many accidents this winter and this one did nothing to engender festive spirit. Even a good works night out didn’t much improve my demeanour and I started the holidays in distinctly humbugular fettle. By Christmas Eve I was finally getting into the mood and looking forward to Santa’s visit.

They do say that Christmas is all about the giving rather than receiving. Well some of the gifts have been giving me problems since they were unwrapped. First, as I sit writing this post I still have a nagging pain in my left shoulder thanks to Wii boxing and have had to retire undefeated with a record of 2 fights, 2 wins, both by knockout. It’s much better to bow out when you’re at your peak. Mrs B is nursing a similar injury – I think it’s proved a useful reminder to us that wii are not wii kids any more. I’ve also seen a different side to my loved ones which has reassured me that they can look after themselves when push comes to smack in the face.

Another grief-giving gift was Mrs B’s MP3 player, which I had stupidly thought would be just the Jewson – nothing too complicated I thought. Two days and several grey hairs later, I had been issued an ultimatum – get it working otherwise it was heading somewhere where the reception ain’t too good. I was minutes from giving up and taking it back to the smug git in Curry’s who told me it was ‘really easy’ when I finally found the answer and saved my marriage.

Christmas Day itself involved a splendid slap-up family dinner. Just as the grown-ups were enjoying the relative peace and good behaviour of the children, we made the fatal mistake of taking our eyes off Mrs B’s father. He was busy turning used party-poppers into pea-shooters. Showing his gratitude for his daughter-in-law’s hospitality and generosity, he managed to catch her in the eye with one of his saliva-moulded paper missiles. It’s nice that the senior citizens in the family set such a good example to the young ones.

Happy New Year!

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