It’s beginning to look a bit like Christmas…

This morning I have been getting in touch with my feminine side.

Although a generally unrecognised concept  to men everywhere, I have not only finished my Christmas shopping two whole weeks before Christmas Eve, but all is wrapped with ten days to go.

But no fancy ribbons or stuff, except the parcel for the Memsahib, who likes that sort of thing.  I have to retain some semblance of masculinity.

The tree is purchased but will remain outdoors in water until late next week.  Our tree goes up for Christmas, not for Advent, and comes down after the twelve days of Christmas, and normally after the council wood-chipping disposal service is finished.

Needing a new tree stand, our previous excellent version having perished in the fire of 2016 (and with Christmas almost cancelled in this household in 2017), I went shopping and I was amazed that I could only find one remaining in the fourth shop I visited yesterday, everyone else having sold out already – and one store already removing unsold Christmas decorations from the shelves.

(Note to self – next year start looking for last-minute Christmas stuff in July, or August at the latest.)

Happy pre-Christmas panic everyone.

What I got for Christmas

Well, the presents are now put away, the turkey is half-eaten and the house is still littered with unusual alcohol, cheese, odd biscuits and cakes.  The TV has forgotten about Christmas and is concentrating on “What happened in 2015” programmes and news of terrible weather around the world.

Our tree still glitters despite the local recycling project to have them shredded on 27th December.

So what did Santa bring me?

  • A much needed replacement wash-bag, complete with beard and moustache tools and potions.
  • A couple of books about horse-racing (“The bluffer’s guide” and “In search of the perfect system” for betting).  These may be useful, as since the racehorse I owned a share of was sold in October she has not failed to win, making thousands for her new owners!
  • A rather nice framed copy of this photograph of me at Waterloo 200.

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This will take pride of place in our dining room along with the memsahib’s picture of her in full charge as a member of the 3eme Hussards.

  • An assortment of bottles of alcohol, shortbread, silly books and some equipment in colours  to match our new kitchen that arrives next month.

Not a bad haul at the age of 61.  I must have been a good boy this year.