Lull

Alan Rickman. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Things are winding down before they gear up again.  Most of the Christmas shopping is done.  Half of the Christmas cleaning is done.  The bulk of the wrapping so far is done.  I’m waiting to do my fresh bits shop at the weekend and for my two house guests to arrive on Sunday; then the fever starts in earnest on Christmas Eve.

Liam Neeson (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Friends came to my house last night, banished the menfolk to the bedrooms, ate pizza and crisps, drank a lot of wine and ogled various male actors in Love Actually.  One likes Karl (so pretty, we never got beyond his character’s name); another likes Alan Rickman (go figure); the third tussled with me for Colin Firth until she spotted Liam Neeson.  I took Hugh Grant as a bonus. None of us had drunk enough to ask for Bill Nighy.

Bill Nighy (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I had a good time but my head is banging this morning.  Not from alcohol – I’m such a lightweight, I get drunk just on the excitement of being in the same room as other people who are drinking.  One glass of wine and I’m hogging the karaoke machine; two, and I’m fast asleep in a corner.  

It was the late night and not enough sleep that had me fighting Spud for the paracetamol before he left for school: he also had a late night; he waited up to eat the leftovers.  I suspect that Toby also ate leftovers on the sly – he came downstairs this morning to throw up by the back door and went back to bed without asking for his breakfast.  As he is a dog who hassles Spud to get a move on in the mornings because he knows he will be fed as soon as Spud has left, I was all for calling an ambulance.

The banging has been interspersed with intermittent ringing.  Tory Boy phoned for a chat.  Ninety minutes later, he fobbed me and my sweaty ear off because he was on his way out to try to find a greasy spoon serving a full English breakfast. He lives darn sarf; he didn’t hold out much hope.  Southerners just don’t do greasy little cafés full of germs and tasty sausages like we northerners.

Colin Firth  (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I had just come off the phone when my friend called to tell me she found her lost keys.  Her husband dropped her off here last night and the Hub took her home because her husband was on an early shift.  Pity she had to wake him up to let her in.  Her keys were in his car.  Then my brother phoned to talk about THIS SECTION HAS BEEN CENSORED DUE TO THE DELICATE NATURE OF CHRISTMAS PRESENT EXCHANGES.

Hugh Grant (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I spent the morning watching a bit of Johnny Lee Miller in Elementary and then trawled through old posts to find something of interest to tell you.  I’ve got nothing.  December 2009 it was all snow.  December 2010 it was all snow and the worst head cold I’ve ever had.  December 2011 it was all the worst head cold I’ve ever had.  I know September 2012 I wrote about the worst head cold I’ve ever had.  Either the germs are mutating each year to attack me with more virulence, or I’m a bit of a drama queen.

When I’ve lain down on my chaise longue for a while in my flowing robe, and rested with lavender cloths over my eyes, we’ll talk about it.

Joke 637

There was once a great czar in Russia named Rudolf the Red.  One day he was looking out of the windows of his palace while his wife, the Czarina Katerina, sat nearby, knitting.

The Czar turned to her and said, “Look my dear, it has begun to rain!”

Without even looking up from her knitting the Czarina replied, “It is too cold to rain. It must be sleeting.”

The Czar shook his head and said, “I am the Czar of all the Russias, and Rudolf the Red knows rain, dear!”

I read this one all over the internet.