To clarify…

This is a mince-pie.


And whilst it is a little fun to allow gullible readers to imagine what might be in them, you can see they’re yummy and contain no meat (anymore, Dave wasn’t kidding (much) with the historic explanation) only fruit and spices these days.

Unfortunately having stuffed myself on mince-pies (what’s a photo-shoot for?! And I had to get the right angle!), I didn’t get around to baking any cookies yesterday, but unpacked several boxes of books instead.

There’s no real way to explain what this means to me, but living four years without my books has been miserable, and so even if Christmas was to stop now, I’d be happy. What joy to have to my books again, at last!

And I cleaned my bathroom. For hours. In fact I’m embarrassed to admit how long I spent scrubbing – not that it desperately needed it, it DIDN’T! But the opportunity was there to scrub and dry each tile to shining (though they don’t actually shine, because they’re matt), so what’s three hours out of my life, in return for a sparkly-good-as-a-TV-advert-bathroom? It made me happy. Sad silly woman. And of course, by tonight you’ll never know I’d been in, but I’ll worry about that tomorrow.

Christmas-wise we’re doing splendidly! All the presents I’m giving are bought, and only about a dozen to wrap. And as I type the BH is in town with the girls finishing off something for me. I don’t think I know what it is, which makes it bloody exciting in my life! And it’d better be good as it seems I may not be getting many after hearing the BH on the phone complaining about delivery times. But again, I’m not worrying, there're days yet.

What it is I’m worrying about, I’m not sure. But there is something. A bad feeling in the pit of my stomach, distracting everything, and sending me on hyper.

I’m not sleeping well, but I’m think that’s because of the worry, not the reason. And last night I don’t feel like I slept at all, like there was a constant chatter going on around me. I woke up before the alarm (beaten it every day this week - and that's just NOT RIGHT!) with S’s feet kicking me in the stomach and the electric bed blanket on. I don’t remember it, but I guess she must have come in complaining of feeling cold.

And I wanted to share this with you:


It’s the picture on the front of one of the BH’s presents. Looks exciting, huh? Well, maybe not. And you’d be right. The present isn’t exciting in the least, but it’s something he wanted and I’m a practical soul. But I liked the picture, thought it was cute and it looks just like the BH when I first met him. Except he wasn’t as chirpy looking, more misunderstood and moody and it was a cigarette behind his ear, not a pencil. And he wouldn’t have worn a shirt like that either, or now for that matter. Geeze, what's the matter with me? I’m talking myself out this post! It does look like him! It does! Like he used to look, anyway. Now the hair is…less, and a different shade. And he favours suits, but he did then, so that shouldn’t count. Ah, and he’s got a beard now, not a grizzly-adams-thing, but short and neat – just like him! Do you think he’ll find that funny? Umm, should I worry? Oh heck I can say what I like as I’ve asked him not to visit till after Christmas as I’m mentioning his pressie! Notice I’m not actually telling you what he’s getting - that’s in case he peeks. Because he might, it’s in his nature. My attitude really used to piss him off when we were first together. Not only do I not make any attempt to peek at presents or beg to open them early, I prefer to wait till Christmas night to receive them too. I like to enjoy the whole day to the full, and anticipation is a huge part of that. And it’s not coming around again for a year – so drag it out!!

Umm, have to stop as my brother’s just called and is popping around for tea. But I might be back later, as I’m too tired to clean and am in the mood to type. Lucky you ;o)