You may remember that a couple of weeks ago, I declared myself on a festive diet of nothing but mince pies and mulled wine. Other festive treats such as yule log and egg nogg were permitted as occasional variations. Oh my God, 'yule log' and 'egg nogg' rhymes- why has nobody put that rhyme in a Christmas song before? I can feel a Christmas Number One pouring through me...
I'm on a Christmas diet
And everyone must try it
Mince pies and yule log
Mulled wine and egg nogg
A special diet for a special time of year
It will make your knees thick!
It will make you be sick!
But it's full of festive cheeeeeeeer.
We'll get Cliff Richard to record it and then sell it to either a leading supermarket or Weightwatchers for their Christmas campaign. This time next year we'll be celebrating Christmas inside a diamond submarine, submerged somewhere off the coast of Chili, giving each other emerald encrusted lobsters as presents. Probably.
Anyway, since declaring myself on the Christmas Diet, I've only managed to consume one glass of mulled wine and ten mince pies. It turns out that ten mince pies is actually quite a lot of dried fruit and pastry to eat in two weeks. I feel as if I couldn't eat another mince pie ever again and yet... if anyone offers me one when I'm home for Christmas, I know I won't be able to say no. I'm not sure if I even like them, I just feel a frenzied need to eat as many as possible during the Christmas period.
I have been feeling very festive this weekend- on Saturday me, Kayt and Julia had a roast dinner. We bought four bottles of sparkling wine and listened to Christmas songs as we cooked. Abby was supposed to come as well but she told Julia she was sick, suspiciously not long after Kayt and I announced that we would be doing the cooking... Well, if you're reading this Abby, you missed out- Julia is now fully converted to the idea of an English Sunday Roast. Perhaps it was because it the first roast dinner I've had in a long, long time, but I was amazed at how well it turned out. I had a sneaking suspicion that we would panic and fuck it up somehow we didn't- it was a Christmas miracle.
On Sunday evening I went to a carol service with B at an Anglican 'English' church in the 16th. It made me feel really at home although, as someone who was brought up a Catholic, I must say that I missed the gorgeous, jewel-coloured gowns and the eccentric hats, the sinister chanting and the heavy incense. Still, they had mince pies and mulled wine in the parish hall afterwards. It was full of jolly English people, very Vicar of Dibley.
Today I've been listening to music from The Nutcracker and I've got a a bowl of clementines and a big candle on my desk, servicing as festive decorations. Very 'Christmas in Old Europe'- dark forests and wild boars, blood on snow and warm fires. Or am I thinking of The Hogfather? (I bet you didn't have me down as a Terry Pratchett fan, did you?)
I've been so caught up in all this festive fun, that I've forgotten to buy any Christmas presents. I am now panicking slightly. Tried to buy a couple of things on Amazon but my card isn't working, as usual. For once, I know that I have enough money in my account, but it's just not working. Why do I even bother with banks? I know I always say this, but I really feel like I should stop all dealings with banks and start stuffing money into my mattress.
Another thing I can't be bothered with is trying to organise 'drinks' with 'boys' in the interests of perhaps one day having 'sex' with them. I've used quote marks for the words 'drinks' 'boys' and 'sex' because, while they are all concepts that allegedly exist, I have no (up to date) evidence of their existence.
I'm sure you can guess what happened with Mizmiz Man. Sigh. It's the predictability of my 'love life' that makes it so tragic, the sheer boredom of it. I'll tell you the full story later, I'm babysitting tonight. Until then, I'll leave you with the December photo from Cliff Richard's superb 2012 calender: (I said I'd plug the calender for him seeing as he's agreed to sing on our Christmas song.)
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