Salad days

Saturday December 16, 2006

Yesterday was the last of the pre-Christmas events at the holiday camp, an evening do that ran late, so Graham stayed overnight in order to be there for the final shut down of pipes and pumps and such technicalities of the bar manager’s art.

“What will you do?” Graham asked when we spoke on the phone this morning.

“I’ll make best efforts to reduce our mountain of laundry.”

“Well, don’t go over doing it. I’ll phone you in plenty of time to come and fetch me.”

“Right you are.”

In the event I got three machine loads done and dried ready to fold, along with a couple of naps during the day. I was bright and bouncy when the call came at about four this afternoon.

“I’m just giving the floor a final wash so if you’d like to pop on over I ought to be ready by the time you get here.”

And so the frequently repeated journey was made, this time with a big difference. It’s the last one before the New Year. Now we can get started on our own Christmas.

“What would you like for dinner tonight?” I asked as we drove back.

“Anything but turkey.”

“Probably a good idea. How many turkey dinners have you had this year, then?”

“I stopped counting at fifteen.”

“Gosh. So what would you like for your dinner tonight?”

“Pizza. That’s about as far away from turkey as I can imagine.”

“You gottit.”

I’d have been better advised to do myself something other than pizza. Two pizza meals in one week is more than my digestion can manage without complaint. Add two lots of garlic bread to the mix and I’m really not pleasant company. Salad tomorrow. That’ll sort it. Salad days are good days. Just so long as it’s not turkey salad.

 

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