Wednesday December 27, 2006
Seems the world went shopping again today, racking up the plastic like it’s never been racked up before. Well, good luck to them. If it’s what lights their candle then brightly may it burn.
Graham and I did no such thing. We stayed home, not doing a lot, just pootling around, nibbling at this and nibbling at that, and washing the nibbles down with what, astonishingly, totalled out at a bottle of Mumm 1995 and a little over a bottle of New Zealand Chardonnay (not tried it? you’re missing a treat).
“I feel as though I ought to be a little on the tiddly side,” I said as I carved into our glazed ham, all rich and glistening and garnished with apricot, pineapple, prunes and honey.
“Shut up and keep carving,” Graham replied, topping my glass up. “ABBA’s on TV in a minute and we need to be sat down to enjoy it properly.”
“Gimme, gimme, gimme a…”
“You’ll give yourself a nasty cut if you keep waving that knife around like that.”
“Oh. Alright. Spoilsport.”
By the end of the day, though, I’d run out of steam and, sad to say, my Christmas energy. Oh, the goodwill is still there but it’s a facade only, not backed by much in the way of ooomph.
“You know what?” I asked.
“I think the tinsel is beginning to tarnish a little.”
“Know what you mean.”
“I think we’d better call a halt to the holiday now until New Year.”
“You’re probably right. What shall you do tomorrow, then?”
“Dunno. Hibernate, probably. You?”
“I have a light fitting to fix.”
“That ought to do it.”