It's all go here, took a vertically-challenged Nanook of the North Hoodie in off the street yesterday and put her to work.
Offspringette nipped over and we decorated the house much earlier than usual, but I'm home this year and want to enjoy it all. Offspringette tempers my rather ebullient over-gilding the lily style and ensures the boundaries of stylish good taste are not exceeded...well she means to, but then we both get carried away, so the result is we are festooned, glittering, bedecked and illuminated.
Mother's Christmas Bough (a nice drooping tree branch) is propped in the corner of the kitchen as usual and in the absence of the Kayaker ( who assumed tree responsibility in disgust the year after Bookhound left it too late and came home with a 2ft twig) the remaining men raised the tree. There was the usual good-natured 'no you don't want to do it like that' debate and eventually it was tethered to a hook on a ceiling beam for fear of a repeat of the Year of the Great Tree Topple. That was the year we witnessed a great depletion in the ancient heirloom glass tree decorations and we couldn't cope with that trauma again.
I think on reflection it was a form of compliment to be told that I had worn better
than the blond bombshell Fairy, who is the same age as me, and emerged laughing hysterically from her box after a year in the attic.Looking a tad
madder and scarier year on year I think, (the doll that is...well probably me too) but I was
christened at Christmas and this was a gift from a Godmother, so her place is assured.
She's up
on her lofty perch now which thankfully dilutes that gaze and that hair.
I do hope your tinsel is thinking of twinkling too and some more prize winners to announce and add to the festive cheer.
Annabel is going to be giving a home to John Caple whilst the Make Your Own Socks will be created by lacer. Peta will be sporting a smart new shopping bag and reading Elizabeth Baines while Loelia will be deciding exactly where God's Own Country lies. Chrissussex will be whisked off his/her feet by Fred Astaire and Frances Evangelista can see what she makes of The Believers.
We will be prize-drawing right up until the weekend if you have the staying power and there are some cracking good books still to come, all you knitters don't whatever you do miss Saturday's book. Then we'll be going out with a very great big stocking-filler rousing worldwide chorus of a book on Sunday, the only one of all those offered that I haven't read but I can't wait to open it.
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