The Turkey was a success - B cooked it on Friday night, turning it twice in the process to ensure even cooking. By itself the crown still weighed thirteen pounds and he reckons he only won by two falls and a submission. We had a really lovely evening - and guess what? There was enough turkey left for everyone to take some home :).
Dream has written down some of his thoughts about our Annual Christmas Get Together; and both a very nice piece of writing and sentiment it is, too. I feel very lucky to be a part of such a good group of friends. I am a relative newcomer of only five years standing, since most of them have know each other since school. They've made me unreservedly welcome and it's wonderful.
Yesterday we had a really lazy day, recovering. We watched eight episodes of Babylon Five and ate pizza in front of the fire.
A lot of my christmas-stress seems to have evaporated now - we did our christmas shopping on Friday night, via Amazon; and we wrote all our cards and posted them on Saturday morning.
This morning, Ma's long-promised cake and christmas pudding arrived in the post. It smells fantastic, and the only thing that's stopping me eating it on the sly while B is out, is that it reeks of brandy and it somehow seems wrong to start the week drunk on cake.
And of course, I'd also reek of spirits and he'd be able to tell.
My to-do list today includes:
- moving the camping gear out from under the stairs and up to the eves of the attic.
- putting the logs in the space under the stairs that that creates, so they don't keep shedding all over the hall carpet and sneakily falling down while we're out and blocking the door so that we can't get back in.
- seeing if the dyson is really broken or whether I can fix it by vigorous shaking, random poking with a screwdriver and yet another change of filters.
- if it's broken, I need to phone the dyson repair shop.
- if it's not broken, I need to use it [sigh]. See comment about logs shedding bits.
- cleaning the bathrooms.
- dusting. I HATE dusting. I think it's Quintin Crisp who says that the dust doesn't get any worse after five years. If I could bear it, I'd experiement and see, but I can't, so I won't. If that makes sense.