Di's entry:
Supposed to be at the reindeer show today with Nimble Toes and Young Weebit. Instead doing spreadsheets. Santa insisted. Had Northpole Workflow Consultants in this week, quizzing my elves on dolls’ houses and teddy bears. Santa says my team show ‘reduced efficiency and increased costs’. Trying to keep this to myself – bad for elf morale.
Told consultants we have increasingly complex global supply chain issues. Minnie Twinkle said: ‘More children these days’. Consultant wrote it down AND underlined it. Seemed impressed by Minnie Twinkle’s views.
Met the new elf in Packing – in today doing some overtime. We played cricket up the corridor while Mr Sparkle was off having lunch. Some fairies joined in and I felt better for the game. A good laugh.
Made me realise we have lost the joy of Christmas – it’s all drudgery now. Am thinking again about retiring to avoid the pressure. But would I miss it? Not today I wouldn’t. I really wanted to go to the reindeer show.
Met Fat Pud by the starshine dispenser watching the consultant talking to Santa. Saw the consultant borrow Santa’s watch to check the time – and then walk off with it. Fat Pud agreed to put a new watch in Santa’s stocking.
Christine's entry:
It’s my birthday. I don’t wake up excited because of the magnitude of the occasion. Not sure whether I actually got any sleep. I feel a bit stiff and cold after a night spent on the floor of the otherwise quite luxurious Brittany Ferries vessel. Their cheerful wake-up call comes at 6 am French time, - 5 am British time. Just got used to that after 3 ½ days there. We’ll be in Ouistreham in less than an hour, - hurry up if you need a coffee before you travel on. I go to the washroom and look in the mirror. Oh yes, I certainly do look a year older. But then it’s my birthday, so why shouldn’t I?
Car’s where I left it, so I’m on my way home. 120 kms - most of it motorway; shouldn’t take me long.
Home. An abstract notion or a real place? Just been back home to see my daughter and her family. Home. I’m going back home now. Home. I went to see my sister this spring. She still lives back home where we grew up.
It’s daylight now, and I’m back. Dogs pleased to see me. Quick check through accumulated dross. Phone my daughter to say all’s well. Breakfast again. Discover note from postman to collect something from the PO. Could be from my other daughter. They close at noon. Unwashed and tired I put the dogs in the car and go off. Collect and pay for Xmas card from friends who’d forgotten the stamp. Disappointed. Will get through to her later. Of course I will. Have a long walk in the woods. Needed that. Dogs run riot, the river chuckles, the sun breaks through the trees in all their glorious variety. It’s my birthday. I’m home.
Zena's entry:
Found kitchen floor & mat all wet. Called in site manager (an advantage - probably the advantage - of having brand new apartment). He couldn’t fix it, only minimise it. No plumber on site till Monday. Typical. Now have large bowl under leak & dishes & plates all over worktops.
Went out in rain to check car oil for tomorrow’s journey & car bonnet wouldn’t open. So annoyed I nearly cried. Wondered if I should cancel my trip - what if I break down and AA man can’t get to the engine? Would I ask him to take me back home or on to my destination? Should I have checked the oil yesterday and go this sorted then? Is it ALL MY FAULT?
Coffee, ciggie, deep breaths, tried again & with brute force (amazing how frustration gives you strength, isn’t it?) it eventually opened. Then to garage to check tyre pressures – new-fangled machine, kbps and Bar and – sheesh. My pressure at highest level. But nice Welshman helped me out – a little ray of sunshine in otherwise poo day.
V nervous about meeting daughter’s prospective in-laws in Yorkshire tomorrow. She says I must tell them she’s never seen without her Marigolds and cooks like Nigella (but not at the same time).
Walked to PO, posted story, headed home before it got dark. Felt smug until umbrella collapsed on my head. Perfect. Bet the kitchen’s flooded when I get home from Yorks.
Hmmm, must say something positive. Where’s Pollyanna when you need her? Will dwell on nice Welshman and what could have been. (Wonder if daughter’s prospective f-in-law knows anything about plumbing?)
Ann's entry:
Mum was in her usual pre-Christmas tizz today. She’s forgotten to send a card to Uncle Joop and Auntie Marg in Holland. I don’t know what she’s fretting about, there’s still time!
Must remember I promised to take Sis to see Goldilocks and the Three Bears on Wednesday. That’ll be a barrel of laughs, a theatre full of 5 to 9 year olds.
When I saw Dad today, I thought he’s looking remarkably like Father Christmas. Could be something to do with the greying fuzz on his chin and the ever expanding bulge around his middle. Sis won’t help. She’s insisting on leaving a whole box of Mr Kipling’s Exceedingly Good Mince Pies for Father Christmas to eat as he’ll be hungry by the time he gets to her bedroom. He’ll scoff the lot too.
Mum’s still buzzing around like a fly on Speed. Just stuck her head in my bedroom door, she’s just seen a recipe on the TV for White Chocolate Truffle Snowballs and is rushing down to buy the ingredients from the supermarket. I told her to leave it until tomorrow, there’s still time!
Grandma’s been pestering me today to take her shopping. I’ve told her there’s still time! Trouble is she’s not satisfied with the local Marks and Sparks, she wants to go to London. To Selfridges, Liberty, John Lewis. Wants to see the lights as well which means a day and night up there.
I think I might be wrong. There isn’t that much time is there?
Geoff's entry:
15 days to the Christmas cabaret at her Majesty’s Pleasure. Am having second thoughts about volunteering to direct a gang of criminals. Have seen better performances from a flock of Canadian geese whose raucousness does at least come with group identity. Getting ‘Snitch’ Mason to even share the stage is inconceivable, but then he has put most of his co-stars behind bars.
Today’s rehearsal left me with nagging doubts about the wisdom of casting ‘Molester’ Maggs as Santa, though ‘Bugsy’ Higginbottom and ‘Slasher’ Smith seem more than keen to dress up as schoolgirls to ‘normalise’ the audience. Unfortunately ‘Half-inch’ Harris has volunteered to distribute the presents before the finale so I might have to get the wardens a bit more involved than I’d hoped.
Am developing an eye tic from dealing with constant bickering among the 13 disciples in The Last Rapper. Can’t decide which one to boot into touch. They can all rap and boogie, but Matthew and John both had to have blood transfusions after an over-zealous squabble with Adolf Grotweiler whose portrayal of Jesus Christ doesn’t quite seem to emanate the right kind of charisma. Nobody knows what he’s doing time for, but it could well make my refusal to pay council tax look a trifle insipid. Am thinking of letting my eye tic develop into a rare, hideously contagious retinal AIDS, so I could be transferred to intensive care by Christmas Eve, if JC hasn’t already put me there. Beginning to relinquish dreams of ‘Arty Farty Convicts Go Festive’ being snapped up by Channel 4.
Geoffrey Archer was earmarked for Judas but will now be just another Lord a-leaping. Maybe he’ll go round and help Angela and the girls decorate the tree tonight, while their Dad is still away on that very important business trip.
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