First Christmas in the Country

What can I say? Boy is home. 

There's a ham baking in the oven. Boy is killing things on Halo 2. My world is as it should be.

When we started this year off, I had no idea what was coming. It's been a year full of things that don't ever get mentioned and should never be mentioned in those round robin letters that people include in Christmas cards. 

There hasn't been a part of my life that hasn't been thoroughly shaken; and while I'm still standing, I do feel somewhat bruised and fragile. The time off I'm taking over the festive period is to rest up. I've still got the dregs of a cold I suffered a few weeks ago; it's happily brewing in my sinuses. I think it's probably time to talk to a consultant about having everything flushed out, but I haven't got any resilience left and an op would flatten me. That's okay. I've got the time to rest and recover and if I'm frustrated by my lack of progress, I know trying to push through would only drag it out for longer.

This is the longest Boy has been in The Cottage. Even though he's still getting used to the space (I moved while he was at uni), he seems much happier here. We are so very blessed indeed that we can be here and breathe for a bit. 

Boy took me shopping last night to the big supermarket just outside of Norwich. There, the other shoppers were grimly focused on the task at hand, pushing past and scowling randomly at tins of baked beans. 

The country life is taking some getting used to. I insisted Boy drive me to the local Co-op for some last minute purchases, I decided I had to make ponche crema (Trinidadian eggnog) today and get some more milk (I've been drinking gallons of tea lately). It's just ridiculous! People were relaxed, smiling and making eye contact. Strangers in the queue actually struck up conversations! 

I could get used to this life. 

I'm not sure what 2015 holds. I have a list of things I would like to do:

- get back to my fitness regime
- complete and market two manuscripts
- do some counselling courses

But I'm sure Life has other Plans for me.

Still Rambling

Still too early damn it

As you can see, there's some improvement. The days of doing bugger-all are beginning to work. But my attention span is still all over the place, so I'm falling back on lazy blogging  with bullet points.

• Dave made the mistake. He told me he saw a purple lava lamp. I needed it. Yes, this is exactly all what is wrong in society today. I needed it. I had to have it. It went on my credit card. I don't care. I LOVE IT! It's mine...
• It now sits next to my printer, behind my laptop 
• It takes a while for the wax to warm up and then it makes lovely shapes in the liquid
• I gave my beloved a torc wrench for Christmas, he gave me a heart rate and fitness monitor (purple). We are both ecstatic with our gifts. Needless to say, I know it won't be long before every nut and bolt on our bikes will be tightened up...and apparently, I have a [good] fitness level
• I'm starting to move again. Only after Dave complained of a sore throat and thick head for a week, it occurred to me that perhaps another bug was contributing to my general malaise
• Work has been a veritable cornucopia of germs, bugs and things to make you go bleugh
• I must get more anti-bac gel to give my immune system a break. I'm fed up of feeling ill
• Boy's back in town. It's a lot more strange having him back, than I anticipated. Though I hasten to add, it is good to see him
• I realised we don't talk much when we're alone together, we just kind of hang out
• I wonder if he thinks I'm boring and I don't do much. I certainly haven't done much over the break
• I've been drinking a lot of tea over the break. It makes me feel warm and cosy inside
• My man bought me a tea pot to match my kitchen and it has a removable metal basket inside for loose tea. You see why I'm so partial to him? It matches my kitchen
• The Boxing Day sale madness has passed me by. I have not participated in the feeding frenzy that is seasonal bargain hunting. Apart from the purple lava lamp (did I mention it was purple), I've been unmoved to venture into the city
• When we did amble into the city so I could purchase the lava lamp (purple), I was the only person in a frenzy. However, for the first time in years there were masses of shoppers who were actually carrying bags
• I feel your confusion
• In recent years, the city has been busy at this time of year. Gentleman's Walk, the main thoroughfare of the retail heart of Norwich, has been packed. But people were looking, not buying. Their arms were swinging
• Not so this year. People had bags and bags. This is good news for our local economy. These four festive weeks are when our retailers take 80% of their money
• Apart from one Amazon purchase to go abroad, once again I shopped local and independent. I was thinking of stretching my definition to John Lewis (which is a co-operative, but a large one), and in the end I didn't need to
• I did go into a local shop and ask them to get me an electrical item. I was unimpressed when they invited me to go to John Lewis as they could not match their price to order in this bit of kit. I told them it didn't matter. I wanted to give them my money. They declined
• Today will be the last totally lazy, bone idle day of rest. From tomorrow, I will start increasing my activity levels and start bringing my sleeping patterns back to normal i.e. not going to sleep at 1 am, getting up at 9-10-11 am
• I am so behind in my personal admin I'm looking at my colon. If it doesn't get done this week, the tax man is going to be demanding my lava lamp
• Even though I had exactly the Christmas I wanted and needed, I still had The Sad. I miss my dad and I'm homesick. My family back home and I have missed each other communication-wise and in a way I'm relieved. The way I feel right now, I could just hop on a plane and head out there now
• It's a dangerous feeling. 

It's purple

The Festive Season at the Casa

Of course I wasn't ready for Christmas. I'm not entirely sure what I was doing, but it certainly didn't include writing Christmas cards. I bought 30 or so and so far have written 2. I'll save the other 28 for next year. It does make me feel horribly guilty, because I've got loads and loads of lovely cards from all around the world. I think I'll be writing January cards to make up for my being totally crap.

On the plus side, the house was made presentable, proper food has been cooked and I haven't blown as much money on stuff as compared to previous years. So I am well pleased. 

Solstice morning, I refuse to write about. If I just say: Local government, piss up in brewery, incandescent rage, I think that will cover all the bases and leave out the tedious re-visiting of the very stressful 6 hours.

Solstice evening was a complete contrast. I cooked for some of my favourite people on the planet. Hanging around with foodies on-line and IRL has obviously rubbed off. I was inventive and arty with the menu. I did one starter, Lawrence sorted the other. 

I did mini-Yorkshire puddings filled with red-onion marmalade and chunks of chipolatas. Lawrence called them Yorkshire vol au vents, at which point I threatened to stuff them with tuna and sweetcorn. He shut up. Lawrence prepared blinis with smoked salmon, creme fraiche with finely chopped shallots, salmon caviar and garnished with dill.

For mains, I prepared braised beef in wine, served with creamy horseradish mash, carrots, leeks au gratin and stir fried cabbage. It was followed by a yummy pear crumble.

This was all washed down with copious amounts of gin, red wine, sherry and coffee and a heck of a lot of laughter. We exchanged pressies, lots of hugs, stories, gossip and plans for the New Year. It was brilliant.

The next day, I tackled the kitchen in phases and it was all sorted eventually, with no stressing.

I did most of the food shopping yesterday, but realised at about 1 am (as you do) I had no potatoes, so I dragged Boy out at lunchtime (morning by his body clock) to finish off. It was also a good opportunity to pick up some more tonic, cider and cream.

For lunch, I made from scratch salmon fishcakes with dill, using up the left-over mashed potato. Boy hated it so much, he ate four. We've had a lovely afternoon chilling out and he's now out with friends. I've been playing on Skyrim again after quite a long break and it's good fun to immerse myself in such a lovely, magical landscape. I also have been grazing on the little treats sat on our dining table, washing everything down with cider.

Tomorrow will be a Casa de Roses traditional Christmas. Boy and I will be in our pyjamas all day. We'll have breakfast, open pressies, open a bottle of something naughty, cook the duck and watch the most awful selection of DVDs. I flatly refuse to do stress or angst on Christmas  Day. I love our Christmases together. He's such great company and he mucks in, so it's not left to just me to sort everything.

Darlings, I wish you all a fabulous, sparkly festive season. Whatever festival you celebrate, whatever path you walk upon. May 2013 bring you and yours love, good health, prosperity and joy. 

Roses
xxx  

Christmas 2011

Ladies and Gentlemen, let me wish you all a very Merry [insert Winter Festival of Choice]. It has been a good one here in the Casa del Roses. I don't do stress at Christmas time. I refuse. I got into my jammies on Christmas Eve and I'm not entirely certain I'll get out of them today either.

Boy is with me and our Christmases have a certain shape: pressies, breakfast, glasses of naughtiness, cook lunch, watch crappy dvds, nap on sofa, more food, more crappy dvds. It suits us just fine. We laugh a lot.

This year, there was no disaster with the duck. It went very well. The carcass is currently sitting in my kitchen having been thoroughly picked clean. I was on top of the washing up while I was cooking, so while the kitchen does look like a bomb site, it's not as bad as it could be. I am feeling no pangs to address the mess yet. I'm on my second cup of coffee in my pink, fluffy dressing gown and alls well in my world. My major decision today will be whether I get dressed or not. Given it's past mid-day, probably not.

Boy is currently snuggled up to Razzy P, who joined us in the evening. The two of them are so totally cute, it's bordering on nauseating. Bless them. I count my blessings and Razzy P and her family are definitely one of them.

The one fly-in-the-ointmen is my current IT issues. I discovered that while I need my coffee in the morning to function, laptops do not feel the same way. Sugar and circuit boards aren't a good combination. Lawrence has kindly offered the services of his son-in-law to see whether it can be cleaned up enough for me to get the data off, but I am pretty sure it will be an insurance job. If only I can find the policy documents for my house insurance. It is all fixable, one way or another, it's just a pain in the arse until I'm up and running again. But I'm not going to stress about it today. Tomorrow I will dig out the paperwork and take it from there.

The next few days are dedicated to chilling-the-fuck-out. I pushed it a bit too far and I'm paying the price. It's all a learning curve. I know better now. There are things on my To Do List, which I must do; and do them I will. But gently does it. Pottering around works very well for me.

I am also considering the year ahead.

2011 was the year of: Stop thinking about - Do it!

So, now I think about what I want for myself in 2012. But that will have to wait for another blog post.

PS. Oh yes, I meant to say. My braces are now off. Ladies and Gentlemen, I now have a metal free smile and it's fantastic. I've still got to wade my way through the retaining period - which will be years, but frankly after having gone through all the hassle and pain. I will do it. I'm so pleased with it. It was worth every penny and all the pain. But the joy of being able to eat green things in front of other people, without fear of it all being stuck in my teeth, bliss. Bliss I tell you.

Oops.

I think I overdid it; the whole food shopping thing. Of course this doesn't apply to the alcohol, which won't go off.

I didn't bother to cook yesterday, I just grazed. Crackers with pate, soft cheese, salami, parma ham, more salami (I like salami). Chocolate and biscuits, oh and nuts. Honey roasted peanuts.

Waitrose ran out of full-fat Philadelphia, so I ended up buying the light shit. You'd think I'd learn, but no. I thought I must have some soft cheese, it'll be palatable. No, it wasn't. It tastes disgusting. It has an after taste that makes me want to shave my teeth. The day they start making low-fat/sugar/no calorie food that tastes good, I swear I'll eat it. Until then fat, sugar and calories are my friends. Being righteous and holier than thou 'oh no, I won't have sugar in my coffee, I have my sweetners'....is not worth it.

I like my food. You can tell that immediately by looking at the size of my backside. It's taken a long time to get these curves. While I do quite like the odd bit of junk food, I don't fantasize about crisps or chocolate. I do fantasize about bacon sandwiches though. Smoked back bacon. Proper bread. Piccalilli. Yum. I love cooking with cream. Double cream. Creme Fraiche isn't a bad substitute. Butter, never margarine. I got one of those hysterical health e-mails awhile ago (don't drink water out of a plastic bottle, it'll give you cancer), it said margarine was almost the same as plastic chemically and it's got no food value. Plus, it doesn't taste that good. Butter, now butter always tastes good. Especially on jacket potatoes. Or for frying mushrooms.

Fortunately, I have teenagers in the house. I'm happy to report that they are eating everything in sight, so hopefully I won't have to throw out the Philly. I do hate waste, but I hate eating that shit even more.

The question is: continue to graze, or cook something? Hmmm...I'll graze while I think about whether I can be arsed to cook.

Duck Dilema

The duck seems to have caused fun and games from the start.

I ordered said duck from my butcher in the beginning of December. I explained it was a duck for 2 and also ordered half a hundredweight of bacon and some steak. Christmas Eve, mid-morning (I'd finished work the day before and couldn't move any quicker), Boy, Best Friend, Mate #2 and I rock up to the butchers.

He'd forgotten my order. Personally, I didn't care. These things happen and I'd have found a way around it. But then he found me a duck in the freezer. This was not my duck. This was an emergency duck.

The emergency duck was a lot bigger than the duck I'd ordered. My butcher and I have a long-standing relationship. I tell him how many people I'm feeding, he factors in other variables: teenage appetites, hungry male company etc, and then he calculates how much to stick in the bag. This system works well. I've never cooked short using this method. But this emergency duck, was pushing the limits of my roasting pans.

Now my butcher said the emergency duck would defrost in the fridge in time. I believed him. I stopped believing him when I took emergency duck from the fridge and tried to remove it's innards (the innards were simmered within an inch of their lives to make sauce). At this point it was around about 11(ish. Very ish. Boy and I had started on the not-so-innocent smoothies when we unwrapped our pressies. No idea exactly what time it was). I cleaned the sink, put the plug in and attempted to drown the frozen, emergency duck in tepid water. The oven was already on, so I bunged in nibbles thoughtfully pre-prepared by our personal chef at Waitrose (if you think I'm playing with filo pastry, you've got another thing coming - disappointment). Boy and I nibbled our way through BBQ wings, filled filo baskets and ceddar and bacon rings, before I remembered the frozen, emergency duck. It was no longer frozen.

In my usual way I threw herbs and spices (and mango chutney) into a bowl, made a paste, covered the thawed, emergency duck, like it was sunscreen and the duck was going out in the mid-day mediterranean sun. Covered with foil and into the oven it went. In the meantime, Boy decided he wanted to play Oblivion. He's full of good ideas, my Boy is. So we adventured.

Two-thirds of the way through, Boy and I drained the duck fat off so I could roast some spuds. I had a brief experiment with roasting chesnuts which was a failure. One chestnut exploded. Burnt chesnut is not a pleasant smell, I know this. Especially combined with roasting emergency duck. It sounds like it would go, it didn't. Boy and I drank another batch of not-so-innocent smoothies.

Eventually, we put one of the Christmas dvds on: The Expendables. No, it had nothing to do with Christmas and everything to do with machismo, brotherhood and explosions. I nearly fancied Sly Stallone, but made do with Jason Statham. Om nom nom.

Speaking of which, the emergency duck was finally cooked. Probably a bit over-cooked in truth. Boy, piled his plate up high. Me, by that point, I wanted as little to do with that damn bird. He says it was tasty. He finished his plate. Teenagers. God love 'em. Metabolisms set to GO-GO-GO. We spent the rest of the evening playing Oblivion. I gave up and went to bed at around 9.30ish.

Not the most exciting of days, but it was exactly what we wanted to do, exactly how we wanted to do it. And that's all that matters.

Oh yeah, have you got any ideas what we can do with the rest of the emergency duck, because there seems to be an awful lot left.

A Little Something

...to get you in the Christmas mood. Although, I am pagan, my childhood has left me with a love of Christmas carols that is with me still. These are my favourites...



Gaudete by Steeleye Span is just fantastic. My friend Gee will whack me on the head because she thinks it and Steeleye Span are too cheesy by half. But I still love it to bits.



This is the most amazing version of God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen I found in my surfing today. Quite a few arrangements change the 'ye' to 'you', which irritates me beyond belief.



This is a fanvid. Ignore the Harry Potter references. What gets me about this carol is the eerie sense of urgency behind the carol.



And thanks to Savannah, this is the version which has stuck in my brain. Thanks for that sugar.

The Party Season

As I sit here blogging this morning, the roof-tops are hidden under a couple of inches of snow, my garden is all white and I'm cosy and warm.

Yesterday, I spent preparing slowly for the night ahead. I took my preparations at a leisurely pace. I did my nails while watching Criminal Minds. I timed my preparations with military precision. Down to when I ran my bath, getting my clothes laid out on the bed, laying out the make-up to put on. My timing was impeccable. I had two minutes after I was ready before the taxi arrived. And that's when the fun began.

I had a smoke in the garden an hour before hand. There was only the sprinkling of snow from the night before. When I poked my head out the front door to see if the taxi was there, there was two inches. In that hour, the arctic conditions hit. My taxi driver, a real sweetheart, said the taxi firm were suspending service from 8 pm. The drivers were not risking going out and about. I had booked that morning, and I got him to call into base to confirm that they would be able to pick me up again. As I told the driver, I had come unprepared for an overnight stay. No toothbrush, no clean undies. He laughed. They gave me instructions to ring in at 11 pm to check they were still running. They assured me they would honour the booking. Yes, I did have my credit card, I could have booked a room for the night. But frankly, I was craving my bed. Plus, having breakfast in full evening gear in a hotel dining room the morning after, seems a bit sleazy, especially if there was nothing to feel sleazy about.

Given the twenty minute journey took forty-five minutes, and I was technically late, I was pleased to see there were only a few others already there. My Financial Services company knows how to throw a good party, let me tell you. I was greeted with champagne at the door, the room was fantastic. I'm really pleased I made the effort. People took the 'black tie' seriously, and dressed up to the nines. Everyone looked fantastic. I think their hiring policy must be biased to the attractive.

There are about 50+ people who work in the company. One of the people I work for keeps telling me he's in his 70s and I'm still waiting for proof. Until I see it in black and white, I'm sticking to my guns that he's in his late 50s. The youngest member of staff is 16. I'm still getting used to the very corporate environment, but it has such heart. I never expected the kindness I've found there. People genuinely care, from the top down. The directors lead by example. Anyway, if I was looking for office romance, I won't be finding it there. I think there are only 3 other single people there and the rest seem genuinely happy in coupledom.

The evening went according to plan. Though, I would have happily strangled the DJ, who seemed to have borrowed the Christmas CDs from my department store. Yes, Slade still makes me grind my teeth. Secret Santa was a success. The person who ended up with my gift was actually sitting on my table. His wife eyed up the bottle of Cava with approval, so I am imagining them sharing that over the season. I'm hoping in big bubble bath, surrounded by candles. What can I say? I'm a romantic. I got a fabulous pamper set from the Body Shop. I can't wait to use the goodies. No, I haven't found out who bought that for me. I will make enquiries on Thursday. They definitely need a hug.

We were all given £25 vouchers for the three casino tables set up in the corner. Roulette, black jack and poker. The person with the most amount of money at the end of the night could win a 7 night holiday. By that point, I was fading. I rang the taxi firm and they agreed to come pick me up early. It was good being out and glammed up, but in truth, I'd had enough. I wanted my bed.

When I left, the DJ had changed to playing good dance music and the admin girls were shaking their funky stuff on the dance floor. The taxi driver spent the journey whinging about clients and the road conditions.

We did not end up going round any roundabouts sideways, or stopping abruptly in the back of someone else's car. Nor did I end up on my arse in my heels. So, thank you for your prayers on my behalf. Unfortunately, there's more bad weather forecast, which means tonight's shenanigans has to be postponed. I'm just not happy taking my car out in this. I know I'm a wimp, but I'd really rather not.

Tonight, I will therefore be tucked up cosy and warm at home. I may just celebrate being cosy and warm with a handy bottle of cider or glass of wine.

One Down

I wonder why it is, when they predict the weather, they only get the crap forecasts right?

It rained pretty much all day yesterday, and then around 4 pm the temperature dropped. The rain turned lumpy and all that lovely water on the roads and pavements froze.

Given my luck, I knew I was in my walking boots, just as well really. Walking through fresh snow is a doddle. I did get quite a few funny looks when I got to the pub: woolly hat, long coat, boots and staff. Hey, I didn't fall over. I had a great time. I don't think I embarrassed myself. No declarations of undying love, no inappropriate affection. Though I think I did go on a bit about a hideous phonecall about an elderly client and the problems with her corns. After a conversation with a couple of smokers from another office party: two people from their team, well in their cups disappeared together. I went back to our table and complained. There's not even a sniff of any romantic work scandal going on. No salacious goings on, going on. Humpf.

All in all, it was a very pleasant evening. I do like the people I work with and for.

The walk home was not fun. The pavements were glass. But I made it home in one piece. I did laugh when we came across a group of people sliding in the road (they were doing it on purpose). They can't have been more than 20 years old in t-shirts and canvas shoes. One guy slid about 20 feet with a can of beer in his hand.  I was impressed, he didn't spill a drop.

Tonight, I've decided to go by taxi. I was hoping to drive, but I really don't like the look of the roads this morning. It also means I can have a drink or two. Tonight, is a 'best foot forward' event. I will be in full evening attire, complete with heels. I like dressing up and being a girlie. Everyone else will bring their husbands/partners etc. I think there are only 3 of us single people in the whole company. And no, there's no salacious goings on either. Ah well.

I have a favour to ask: please say a prayer to whichever deity you worship, I don't fall over.

'Tis the Season...

It's 7.39 am and it's still dark outside. Perhaps the sun forgot to set his alarm today? Maybe he hit snooze? Unfortunately, I can't wait for him.

I'm drinking my coffee and gathering my energy and courage.

For I am about to have 4 days of festivities. Yes, Ladies and Gentlemen, I am about to be sociable. Did I hear someone gasp? You might well. I'm not sure I'm capable of this. But I'm game, I'm willing to give it a go.

Let me give you a glimpse.

Tonight, is the Christmas Dinner for the Alternative Healthcare Practice. Fortunately, it's being held in a pub within walking distance of my home. Unfortunately, today's weather forecast is predicting the arrival of the Arctic temperatures. All plans of my going out in heels and skimpy clothing have been cancelled. I know I'll be fine once I get to the pub, but I have to survive the walk. No, I'm not suggesting I'll drop dead of cold, I'm suggesting if I make the walk in heels and icy conditions, chances are I'll end up bashing my head open after a failed triple toe-loop crossing the road.

Tomorrow night, is the Christmas Do for my Financial Services place of work. Unfortunately, that is being held in a manor now hotel, across the city. I will be driving to that, if I possibly can. Firstly, I don't know these people well enough to get drunk in front of them. I prefer to make a complete tit of myself with people I know and who will forgive me my declarations of undying love...and won't take them seriously.

Saturday night, I've been invited out with Lord Noel and Lady Jacqui. I need to pick Lord Noel's brains and any excuse to see the fabulous couple, is always a good one. I'm told we'll be hitting their local. They won't mind if I make a tit of myself, fortunately. And I get to sleep over, which is just as well. Needless to say, they have more stamina than I. Last time, I gave up all pretense and crawled into bed by 3 am.

Sunday afternoon, Dave will be calling on me. We will be availing ourselves of the delights of a very local pub.

It's all do-able people. I just need to pace myself, take things easy, line my stomach well before any alcohol. I have will power. I can have a good time without reaching for my mobile phone.

Why is my liver quaking at the thought?

The 'C' Word

It's hard to miss from decorations in the shops and beginning of the relentless adverts on the telly, once again we're hurtling towards that time of year again. Yes, ladies and gentlemen in 6 weeks time it will be Christmas.

The season of madness and mayhem. I lose Norwich city centre to hoardes of stressed people. Grumpy children dragged behind desperately stressed parents. People buying presents neither wanted or needed, with money they don't have. Planning for a Christmas meal with family that won't appreciate the effort, being forced into close proximity with people they'd rather not spend time with. They're tired from the work they're holding on to, or from the work they're looking for so desperately. All with the concept of the 'perfect Christmas' being shoved down their throats.

So much for the season of good will. Bah humbug, I say.

Yes, my two years in retail has generated a severe level of loathing for Christmas songs, bordering on homicidal rage. Two years on, I still want to shove the CDs down Nobby's throat. I am desperate to apply a swathe of duct tape over Bing, and Goddess help the idiot who starts with Mistletoe and Wine. If you think my violence is a little over the top, try spending 12 weeks of your life listening to the same 2 Christmas CDs over the tannoy in a department store. I'm sure there's a clause in the Geneva Convention about such torture.

Needless to say, the main topic in the AHCP (Alternative Healthcare Practice) has been the onslaught of this festive time of year. Safe behind my desk, drinking coffee I've been able to talk to other people who are also bemused by this annual train wreck.

It's my first Christmas without my dad. Boy will be with his dad. I will be spending the season on my own. I used to feel that Christmas was the World's way of grinding my nose into the fact that I'm a single parent far away from my family. Please note the past tense.

The Great Ursus and his lovely and I talked about celebrating the Winter Solstice round theirs. On the 21st of December, we'll all rock up, bearing dishes prepared earlier, pile around the table, drinking, eating and being merry to celebrate the Longest Night. I'm already looking forward to it.

Boy and I, in recognition of our skinthood have decided on a competition. Rather than buy each other Stuff, we are going to find the most outrageous present for under £5.00 for each other. The more camp and tacky, the better. You should have seen Boy's face when I suggested it - he cracked up and mischief lurked in his dark eyes. We are going to have fun.

Christmas Eve

To those of you who have stuck with me from the beginning: thank you, well done and it's good to know I'm not the only one without a Life. To those of you who landed on here this year: it's been lovely to get to know you.

Hottie arrives soon and Boy comes back from his dad's a bit later. And the festivities will truly begin.

Thanks to the snow fall last week and subsequent thaw and re-freeze, I can't get my car out of the drive. The inch and a half of ice, coupled with a narrow drive-way and a gentle incline have conspired to usurp my Festive Shopping. I was most miffed yesterday. Stomping around, sprinkling salt, jabbing at the sheet of glass to no avail.

Not to worry. We have alternatives and buses (hopefully). We will have goodies for Christmas Day lunch/meal/dinner. The duck is waiting patiently in the bottom of the fridge. I'm going to do it with rasberries this year. We'll see how much of that process I remember. The worst case scenario is we end up having bacon sandwiches and tons of mince pies.

So this is the calm before the storm.

I hope you all have a brilliant Christmas, however you choose to celebrate it (or not). Hold your loved ones close this year. They are fragile and precious and you are lucky to have them and vice versa.

Annual Rant

I have to say, since I left retail, the festive season no longer fills me with The Fear. This year, I'm really looking forward to Yule and Christmas. Boy and I are in a new house, Hottie is coming to stay for the important days, there will be drunken duck and many bottles of naughtiness. I have my xmas jammies all ready. Hottie says she will be getting hers any time now.

I have already begun the festive shopping. I love Christmas shopping. Looking for the right pressie for the people I love. Even on a desperately tight budget, I still love indulging. Last week I kicked things off looking for Boy's birthday pressie. I'd sorted his main pressie the week before, but I wanted to get him some bits and pieces to unwrap. My problem is knowing where to stop. When I picked up 2 dvds, a book and a CD, I realised I was over-doing it. The good thing is that will go to his Christmas pile and already it's a small pile. Shhh...don't tell him, it's a secret!

The thing is, it's like a treasure hunt. Trying to figure out what he'd like and then scouring the shops until I find it. Sometimes, I go with no idea of what to get him and then as I walk around, I start seeing the things.

Last week, I ordered the duck from the butcher. I don't do turkey. I've said so before, I'll say it again, it's a mutual dislike. Actually, dislike is too soft a word: loathing. That's definitely more like it. We'll get veggies and munchies and fill the house with booze. My poor liver! I think I'll invest in a new tree and decorations.

I was writing this and my jaw dropped. I've been merrily preparing and planning as if it's the most normal thing in the world. Except for one thing: I haven't looked forward to Christmas for years and years.

It's always been a horrendously difficult time for me. In fact, if I'm honest, the last time I really looked forward to Christmas was when Boy was born, that's 16 years! It was around Christmas when the fallout from the disintegration from my marriage really hit. And from that point on, I was always an outsider looking in. Christmas was a time when other people celebrated their families. Bah Humbug. My family was in another country. I didn't have a steady partner/relationship to rely upon. I only had Boy every other Christmas. I was mostly flat broke.

This year, things have changed both externally and internally. We're in a new house, I have Plans for World Domination, I'm not flat broke (for once). During the summer I did some serious Demon Wrestling and Eviction. I'm not an outsider in my life anymore. This year, I have so many things to be thankful for, to celebrate. And the Winter Solstice is the perfect time to do so.

Siren Song of the Sofa

I survived today. Just.

You will be pleased to note I didn't swing for anyone though it was a close call when a customer approached me:

Him: Do you have DKNY perfume?

Me: Yes sir, right over here. Ah we have one gift set left. You're very lucky.

Him: Thank you.

Me: Please come this way to pay.

Him (after a moment waiting for the till): I don't think I'll take that gift set. It's got fingerprints on it.

Me (looking carefully for said fingerprints, seeing only shiny green foil box): I see. I can always wipe the box.

Him: No sorry, I'm going to Boots.

*sigh*

I was very glad that I had the Clinique lass standing next to me at the time, I was so cross I could have spat. All day I've been dealing with these men, and yes they were mostly men, completely panicked, clutching their lists. It must be such a surprise to them. That Christmas happens to fall on the same day, each year. And they only had 364 days to plan for it. We were so busy it was ridiculous.

Thanks to the teams' efforts we got everything finished by 4.30 and I belted home. Boy and I then whizzed around the flat with a flamethrower to get things clean and tidy, so over the next 2 days all I have to do is to think about food and sofa. Now that's done. And my last minute wrapping is done, I've now blogged out any remaining angst and I'm ready for a glass of naughtiness and my sofa.

Wishing you, my readers a very Happy Christmas. And if you are out saving the world from itself over the holiday period, be safe.

*sigh*

The madness continues at work. I think I was contagious and I spread the lurve cause half of the department are feeling the joy that was mine, otherwise known as 'the flu'. Which is fine; at least they know I was genuinely poorly. Unfortunately, I also managed to spread the lurve to my Viking, who is not a happy bunny. I continue to hack and splutter, but as the bit of old English wisdom goes 'it's better out than in'.

Stock levels are dropping faster than girls' knickers next to a photocopier at an office party. Most of my sales patter now includes an apology and advice to go to Boots, Superdrug or Savers to find that most important of purchases. It was such an important purchase that it had to be left until 4.25, knowing that the shops shut at 4.30, today. And no, I'm not prepared to wrap that gift when the shop shut 8 minutes ago.

I'm working tomorrow and I'm dreading it. I start at 8.30 and will only leave the store once the stock has been prepared for the first day of sale on the 27th (which I'm also working). All the good gift sets are gone, leaving the hideously expensive - I have an Agent Provocateur gift set priced over £100, or the hideous - Colleen X for £19.99, the later being very expensive bathroom freshener. All the gift sets need to be re-priced and then set out ready for the sale after Boxing Day. I didn't have to worry about it last year because I was only a temp, now I'm properly employed I do have to worry about it. I'm not sure how we're going to do that and sell fragrance to the Last Minuters. I personally would like to hide away in the stockroom and not come down until it's all over.

Yesterday, I realised I needed a break when I was getting ready to tell a woman to 'fuck right off', when I told her for the third time that the boxes of fragrance in front of her was all we had and those were the only lines the fragrance house did. She was adamant that the perfume her daughter had smelt differently, was like that box, but without the '2'. It's generally not a good idea, when one is flat broke, to call a customer to their face a stupid fuckwit for coming out without the name of the fragrance and who makes it.

The city does not seem so busy as it has in previous years. I know for a fact that we have not taken the money we did last year. I'm not the only one tightening my belt, interest rates, banks going bust, energy and food bills going up faster than fireworks, all are conspiring against the retailers' Christmas. Debenhams has been on sale pretty much since December 1st, and it's difficult for us, an independent retailer, to compete with their discounts.

I'm not sure it's a bad thing to be honest. People spend such silly amounts and a winter celebration isn't worth indebting yourself. I haven't got all the presents I would have liked for my friends and family, but they will get a little something. Christmas Day will be Boy and me chillin and cooking dinner together. Me hitting a bottle of naughtiness (hopefully I'll remember eating Christmas dinner this year), us playing Halo 3, Oblivion, watching Dr Who, snoozing on the couch with the cat. In the afternoon we'll visit Gee and her family, eat and drink more, snooze on her couch. I'm really looking forward to it.

Reasons to Write Shopping Lists

I know it might be slightly boring, but it would really help me, if you would do two things: 1)write down the name of the fragrance your doting other half would like for Christmas and 2) bring it with you. Doing so will avoid the following conversations:

* "It's an odd shapped bottle with bobbles on it." Customer then looks accusingly at me when I bring our collection of odd shapped bottles with bobbles on it and it's not any of them.

* "It's called Ant something." Them.

"Do you remember who made the fragrance?" Me.

"No." Them

"Do you know what it smells like?" Me.

"Nice." Them.

*sigh* Me.

A bit later on, I remember Anteus by Chanel (there is a Chanel concession, but I don't work on it) and they were happy.

Fa La La La La, La La La *sigh*

I knew it had to happen sometime, but I'd put it far from my mind and I refused to dwell upon it. As the days drew closer I got more agitated and fearful, but I kept going. Yesterday, my worst nightmare occurred.

They started playing Christmas carols at work.

As you know, I'm not a Christian. I'm a spiritual person who found another path. You may know what it's like, you walk another path, you gain another perspective. I am by no means anti- anyone's religion. I believe people have the right to worship the God/dess of their choice and to do so in a manner that does not impinge on anyone else's right to worship another deity. I certainly am not one of those people who think that Christmas should no longer be a public holiday. I was born and raised in Trinidad, where they may have got a lot wrong, but when it comes to making space for peoples' beliefs, they have it really right. Consequently, Trinidad has the most public holidays in the world. We celebrate Diwali, Eid, Christmas with equal gusto, exchanging presents, hanging decorations, lighting candles. The key word there is 'celebrate'.

It may well be the choice of CD compilation work have chosen, it may well be that they only have 2 Christmas CDs to choose from. But, for whatever reason, they've chosen the '12 dirges of Christmas'. Carols that have all the celebration of a dead worm. I like Christmas carols, I have brilliant memories of choir practice in my primary school. I just think if you're going to rejoice at your Saviour's birth, you should at least sound happy. Quite frankly, some of the renditions of 'O Little Town of Bethlehem' are sung with the gusto of the sufferer of piles and a slipped disk. To be fair, the other CD is '12 Christmas Pop Hits', which is fine the first 10 times you hear it. But I hate Slade; and having to listen to 'I wish it would be Christmas' 12 times a day, makes me want to ram perfume bottles down my customers necks. Especially since I also hear "you will take the price tag off, won't you?" about 100 times a day.

Hmm...perhaps the only thing to be said at the end of this rant is:

Bah Humbug!

Still Standing

It's a funny thing hitting rock bottom, once you get there it's quite comfortable and warm. There are no more expectations, no targets, nothing can be achieved so there's no point worrying. In this space it's possible to breathe.

Then stuff starts to happen, to fall into place. Things that I was struggling to do, got done with minimum of fuss and exertion. My energy levels are still rubbish, I still feel really tired, but not so ground down.

We're getting more busy at work as we gear up for the Christmas rush. Unfortunately, thanks to interest rates, housing prices, Northern Rock and the pending apocalypse, we just aren't busy enough. The New Management are pushing targets, targets, targets, but it's difficult to sell to people who aren't there. The people who do wander in are being crafty shoppers and are making price comparisons. How can an independent department store can compete in prices with the likes of Boots, Savers and Superdrug? We've got several offers on at the moment, but I'm not convinced it'll be enough.

Anyway, for those of you thinking of buying fragrance for loved ones this Christmas, look out for gift sets. They work out very good value for money, for £2 or £3 extra, there's usually a body product as well as the perfume in a flashy presentation box. And if you buy your fragrance from me, I'll even gift wrap it for you.

92 Days to Christmas

I'm a mobile at the moment. This week I've worked in Fashion Accessories, Linens and Soft Furnishings, Clearance Shop and the Christmas Shop. On Monday I did everything but the Christmas Shop and it was not a good day. Linens turned out to be an expensive way to spend 7.5 hours on a Saturday, I ended up buying new bedding for me, and I've seen new bedding for Boy as well. Ouch. The bedding is gorgeous, thick cotton sheets, chocolate with a flowery pattern. Pretty, but not overly feminine. My bed looks great. I can't wait to get into it tonight.

Today, I was in the Christmas Shop. Now, those of you who have been with me for some time, will remember I am not over-infused with the Christmas Spirit. Fa-la-la-la-la-fuck-off, is more my attitude to Christmas and today hasn't helped. Calendars, cards, cute decorations, decorative bags, candles all wanting a home by 24th December. Hello, it's not even October.

But it's not been a total loss. I've had quite an amusing day working with a guy who is incredibly sweet, and very good looking. He's all of 21 and he's got the hearts of every single teenage/twenty something girl in a twitter. They've been finding excuses to 'drop by' all day, which is ever so sweet. He's a lovely lad, but a bit unaware of it at times. He's just trying to be nice to everyone, and I suspect it's going to back fire on him big time. The girl's claws are out behind the scenes as they vie for pole position. He's not particularly looking for a relationship at the moment and should he settle down with a girl from work, there's bound to be aggro.

It's quite interesting watching this drama unfurl while straightening up plastic-wrapped cards for the umpth time, I wonder if he realises how much of a confuffle he's causing. But to be fair, it's not his fault. He's just a nice guy, with a better than average face and not enough ego to really work it.

Return of the Students

Riding around on the Number 25 as I do, I was slightly taken aback at the difference that students make.

No longer do I sit in quiet contemplation of 42. Instead I have to breathe and count to 10 when I see someone sitting in MY seat. Yes, I have a seat. Actually, I have two. All summer, I've pretty much had the top deck to myself. I sit on the right side of the bus going to the university 5 rows back from the stairs. There's a place where I can put my right leg and then lean on it with my elbow as I stare out the window. When I get to the last stop at the university I switch to the left side, but back another row, so I can adopt a similar position out of the sun (yes there was sun). Now the top deck is almost full. Not only that, people hover over me and look pointedly at the seat my bag rests on. They want to sit next to me! It's just not on.

The city has woken up from it's summer slumber. The streets are packed; not only do I have to dodge the elderly, the infirm and the mums with double buggies, I have to dodge lost students as well. That's fine, but the students arrival heralds the dreaded 'C'word.

I hate the run-up to Christmas. The streets and lanes get packed. It becomes impossible to pop in to do a 'quick' bit of shopping. But more than that, I hate the anxiety and aggression that Christmas brings. The way people treat each other is appalling. Shoppers barge into each other, bags swinging; children fight and wail to stressed parents who bicker with each other. Last Christmas boy and I waded our way through the throng, between us we counted 4 altercations in 20 mins, including a fist fight between a teenage boy and girl. Is this really the season of good will?