After several abortive attempts at writing today’s post I decided it wasn’t depression or politics, or even the crush of ideas and bitterness that was preventing me writing – it was trying to use the netbook on my knee while I sat by the fire.
Just after 10.30 I stepped through to the dining room with the intention of sitting down and sorting myself out.
It didn’t happen -there were comments to read and reply to and sandwiches to make for tomorrow. Finally there was washing up. Yes, washing up seemed preferable to sitting down and blogging.
I now have around 20 minutes to post and keep to my target of daily posting. I’m now limited by the time, and by the fact that I am slowly getting colder. Eventually, based on past experience, I will get so cold that I stop thinking. This is’t a bad thing because since the election I’ve mainly been thinking that everything is a complete mess. I have had to discard several posts because they were a bit too serious, and probably a bit too libellous. It’s one thing saying something to Julia, or shouting it at the TV, but once you write it down you have to prove it.
We had Hasselback potatoes again today. I was a little more relaxed with the cutting, and it did not go as well as the first lot. This is often the way with the second in a series. I tried the stir fried sprouts again too, this time with added chestnuts. I’m intending to have it at Christmas. We have settled on turkey for Christmas this year (as we have done for about the last fifteen years). We will also have roast potatoes, pigs in blankets, stuffing, bread sauce, redcurrant jelly and Yorkshire puddings.
I just noticed it’s gone midnight…
I know Yorkshire puddings aren’t traditional but Julia likes them so they are traditional for us. Personally, I’d rather have beef, pork or gammon. If anyone had suggested a nut roast I’d probably have gone for that. Even a goose. They are greasy but traditional.
It was the kids who got us back onto turkey – we’d been having beef or pork for years but they started to ask for turkey because all their friends had turkey. Now it’s become a habit. It’s not so bad now that you can buy a small crown roast – enough for a meal and a few sandwiches. Much better than the days of turkey curry, turkey stir fry and, finally, turkey soup.
I’ve started the Christmas shopping list and tomorrow I start the shopping. I’ll probably also start moaning about Christmas tomorrow.
Strictly speaking, our Christmas starts when I buy the cheese footballs. This is normally when they first appear in the Shops in Autumn, as it can be touch and go nearer to the day. I’m surprised, on looking for links, that I only seem to have mentioned them twice over the years as they are an important part of Christmas.
First the cheese footballs, then the ancient Santa card I bought Julia for our first Christmas. (I’ve also bought her one every year since, in case you are wondering), then the shopping.
The two pictures from the archives sum up the full horror of the forced jollity of Christmas, and the silent fury of a man who, having realised that he has wasted his life on trivia, will never break the bank at Monte Carlo, win a Nobel prize or, in all probability, look down and see his feet again.
Time, I think, in my tour of British poets, to turn to Dylan Thomas. I’m sure you know the one I’m thinking of. I am, after all, a man of habit and small learning.
I don’t know which is more terrifying, the bauble beard or the fake. The cheese footballs are a good idea.
I read that and it started me wondering.
If I took the clips off the baubles and fitted them to cheese footballs…
An enticing prospect.
I might have to obtain a stick to keep people away from the cheesy delights. Normally my personality does that, but the cheese may prove too much of a temptation.
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Thank you, Julia! She strung up the lights in your beard again! That is a great photo. 🙂
I’m with arlingwoman. “Baleful glare” describes it perfectly. Perhaps the cheese football will cheer things up? And the Yorkshire pudding?
🙂 I’m happy now. The next post will reveal why.
Your first festooned photo reminds me of the best Christmas jumper I’ve ever seen. A young man had pinned mini Baby Bels all over it. He was “Baby Cheeses”.
And with that late entry in the Appalling Pun Competition 2019, you sweep the opposition aside and zoom straight to then top of the leader board. 🙂
Nobody would sit on the lap of that Santa. Or ask for anything at all from him. But there’s something to be said for a Santa with a baleful glare that says, “no, you have been a little monster all year and you will not be getting anything but useful clothing…” It could be a business to lower the expectations of children…
🙂 Even a veneer of fake cheeriness ended up with two children in tears. It seems some children are afraid of Santa, even before they met me.