Christmas starts early in the Monkey House. Yes, it starts in January. I purchased most of the Christmas presents I will be giving next year, online, about two days before Christmas, in the sales. I appreciate that makes me sound somewhere between seriously odd and seriously prepared...probably a little of both is the truth. I do this for two reasons, firstly to save a little cash and secondly, by the time next Christmas comes around, I will have forgotten what I have bought and opening the presents will come as a complete and pleasant surprise. I do confess to buying myself the odd treat or two, that way I actually have stuff to unwrap. My beloved Monkey Boys have little spare cash lying around to spend on presents for their old mother...no matter how many hints I may give them!
 |
| Feeling festive yet? |
So what better way to spend a miserable, wet weekend in January than wrapping Christmas presents and finishing off all of those surplus Chrimbley victuals. There are always surplus goodies. I always seem to get a little carried away when faced with all of the lovely food that surfaces in the supermarket aisles. And so I find myself with a bucket full of walnuts and a fridge full of smelly cheese. Everything else is tucked away in the freezer, awaiting guests, so that we can indulge.
I always find these two months after Christmas a bit of a drag. All of the sparkle and jazz has disappeared, the days are still short and gloomy. The blossoms have yet to flower and the trees are bare and skeletal. There is no snow to look forward to down here, in the soggy, warm bit of the country and crisp, frosty days are as rare as pigs in blankets on a vegetarian's dinner plate. One of the benefits of this warm, damp weather, is that we tend to be about four weeks earlier into spring than the rest of the country. This means that the early bulbs are already in flower...although I have little desire to poke my nose out of the front door to see them. Little helped by the reluctance of our elderly pooch to indulge in a demeaning pastime, such as walking. I know how she feels! Today is all manner of soggy. We shall soon be battening down the hatches as storm Doris races in from the Atlantic. Whilst I have no issue with naming storms (eldest Monkey Boy will be seeing his name across the telly if we get a few more winter hoolies this year), Doris seems a step into the bizarre. Certainly not a name I would associate with hurricane strength winds, although I suppose Doris Day did sing about The Windy City in Calamity Jane. Sometimes I despair of the British public and their choices. Talking of which, it's the Article 50 debate in parliament this week...
Do not get me started on the Brexit debate...oh, you have! Without wishing to alienate folks, I am a remainer and resolutely European. From an entirely selfish point of view, I am not best pleased to lose my EU citizenship and all of the benefits that entails. I have got over my anger towards the Brexiteers (except the ones who 'did it to stick it to the government'. Well, that taught them, didn't it? Twats!) but am furious at our politicians for getting us into this mess in the first pace, for not thinking of how this would apply constitutionally and for not having any sort of plan that would have informed our choices. Oh, and for deciding to go for the 'hard Brexit' option (seriously, Mr Corbyn, what are you thinking of, supporting this nonsense? This is siding with UKrap for crying out loud!! I am really hoping you have a cunning plan...).
Right, changing the subject, I have to stop now before I go on a full on political rampage...I have washing to do, shopping to put away and presents to wrap! And at some point, I am going to have to brave the weather and put the bins and recycling out. If only spring was just around the corner!
