The time has come.
I suppose I had better make a start on decorating the place.
I would normally do it on Christmas Eve, but K8, TAT and The Mob are arriving tomorrow and they would only get under my feet.
I wouldn’t bother my arse, but Puppychild might be a little disappointed if I didn’t do something. She expects a tree at the very least. Spoiled brat. I have a branch that blew off a birch tree in the storms last month that should do the trick nicely.
I find that the easiest way to decorate the house is to nip out and do a bit of gardening. It’s a good time of year for trimming back bushes and shrubs, and also for stripping ivy off the trees. All I have to do then is drag all the cuttings and strippings indoors and spread them around a bit. Herself usually complains about the mess, but I just tell her that she can always do the job herself. She never takes me up on the offer though.
There is a centuries old tradition in our house that I started a few years ago that as soon as the decorations are up, I’m entitled to a nice bottle of malt. That has the added benefit that I shall be nicely anaesthetised tomorrow.
So, in case I’m not around tomorrow, have a good one.
Don’t get too drunk.
Don’t stay too sober.
And if the worst comes to the worst, just deny everything.
It works for me.