Another in the occasional series of guest blogspots. Insanely Livid (alias the Santa Ranta) shares her smashing Christmas with us.
Roy Wood may wish it could be Christmas every day, but he obviously doesn’t do the shopping.
I got up at the crack of dawn this morning to beat the crowds in the supermarket and all was going well until I dropped the brandy sauce with a splat at the checkout. It was okay as some poor holiday-job lackey had to clear it up – though it being Waitrose, he was almost thanking me for the opportunity of wiping up brandy gloop on his hands and knees. Then I arrived home and one year old son picked up the brandy sauce and dropped it with a splat on the floor. Lackey karma.
Tried to instil some festive spirit into the house of tiny tearaways and jaded parents by playing my CD of medieval carols. The children declared it ‘rubbish’ and ruined Gaudete by chanting along with ‘poo, poo, poo’.
But enough bah humbug. I’m going to crack open a bottle of Advocat, sit in front of the fire and work out how Father Christmas is going to get out of the woodburning stove, and avoid being burnt alive.
Merry Christmas Everybody!
How to deal with discussions between the siblings along the lines of "it's OK you can ask for that from Father Christmas because it's free" dilemma? Festive spirit in short supply here too!
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