Sunday December 19, 2004
I’ve decided to go out on my own tomorrow to get the bulk of our groceries for the Christmas holiday. It’s a matter of hedging bets against the weather, which looks to be closing in slowly but surely. There’s even mention of a White Christmas, which would be fine so long as the cupboard is bulging with food and booze sufficient to see us through a good long period. A White Christmas with bare cupboards is not a happy prospect.
It’s the squirrel in me, being pessimistic, planning and preparing for the worst. It’s one of my specialities.
So the day’s been occupied with the compilation of two lists, one of basic essentials to be obtained tomorrow, the other of fresh stuff to be picked up on Thursday which, in a pinch, we can do without. I’m not at all keen to drive on snow covered roads and I’m certainly not steady enough on my pins to walk on icy pavements.
Other than that, the bedroom redecoration proceeds, with the paintwork all but finished. Between coats Graham has put up the Christmas tree and other decorations, so the house now looks all festive and jolly. All we need is the food and booze to complete the picture.
And all that means I shall be a bit busy and preoccupied until I’ve satisfied myself that we’re provisioned, safe and secure. I’m going to keep the journal going right through the holiday, electric supply and telephone wires permitting, and I’m looking forward to standing in the window on Christmas Eve morning, port glass in hand, raising a toast to all my friends, all around the world.