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.