Monday, December 25, 2006

Just Like Christmas 

Girlfriend took charge of the kitchen the way a hijacker takes control of an airplane cabin, and I was instructed that I could make gravy and allowed to reheat my nut roast, but that was all.

“I don’t like this bit,” she said when the time came to serve up. She enjoys the preparation, but as soon as other people come along to actually eat Christmas dinner, the carving up and dishing out, the involvement of other people - well, let’s just say that it detracts from the purity of the project.

My slightly mad brother and his likewise slightly mad girlfriend were here for the day, and so was my Mum. It was good.

I received a book on Edward Hopper and the Banksy book, and a Dummies Guide to projecting into the future, the gist of which suggests that it’s going to be very bleak, we’re all doomed and the time to have started stockpiling was sometime in the Seventies.
Me and Girlfriend bought each other the same CD - the Beirut album - which any true hipster would have owned in 2003, before it had even been conceptualised, but there you go.
The elder and younger boys clubbed together to buy us the boxed set of DVDs, which we’ve since set about consuming with such relish that we’ve become couch-bound as pensioners and have been forgetting to feed ourselves properly.
I’ll be saving up my Tequila Shots gift set for a special occasion, but I’m not sure when that’ll be just yet. Cheers Leanne.
My Mum bought us a birdbath.

Later on we all played charades - I wonder if Girl With A One Track Mind came up, so to speak, in many other households - and I used up my annual chocolate allowance in the space of about two hours.

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