What can I feed them,
Frazzled as I am?
If I were more Delia,
I’d've baked a ham.
If I had had time in June,
I would have made a cake.
Can’t I do welsh rarebit,
For goodness’ sake?
And no, this is not the seasonal verse. This is fluff. Brought on by Christmas shopping.
This will be my theme tune for the next two weeks. I especially like the lines: “If I were more Delia/I’d've baked a ham.”
At least you don’t have to order welsh rarebit from a butcher, that’s all I can say.
Christmas shopping – what the internet was made for
AB, I agree absolutely, but with my usual self-sabotaging cunning, I have left a lot of my internet shopping until TOO LATE. You know, for delivery in time for actual Christmas.
Oh well.
Am currently supposed to be tidying my tidal waves of impedimenta from the living room so S can move furniture around so we can move TV from the study so we can actually fit the in-laws into the study for New Year.
*shudder*
I really must explore this deep and tiresome loathing of tidying up. It’s a little irrational, especially from a woman who would rather scrub toilets and lick the bathroom grouting clean.
Fluff is what the Christmas season is all about. The fluff behind the sofa, the fluff that falls off santa’s outfit, the fluff your brain becomes after the 25th card arrives and you realise you haven’t sent any. I’m sure there is more fluff which my fluffiness stops me from noticing.
Have a fluffy Christmas