Well I did it .. I rolled off the sofa after days of over indulging. I’m of the opinion that Christmas is a marathon, that I achieve every year. I have mastered the art of balancing a box of chocolates on my belly while watching Christmas films. The same films every year, A Christmas Carol, Dickens owns my Christmas I fear it wouldn’t be the same without him.
Oliver the musical, which has nothing to do with Christmas at all, but every Christmas I insist my family watch, however I’m meeting with some resistance. As a child in London my grandmother brought me to see Oliver, her son, my uncle was one of Fagins boys. As a result every Christmas my sons endure me sitting on the sofa singing along to every song and shouting ‘There he is’ every time he appears on screen. ‘That’s him there’ I shout pointing frantically at the telly. ‘The one with the hat and he’s dancing’
‘Ahh.. they’re all dancing mam’ youngest son not impressed with his gran uncle.
‘Don’t you think we all look alike’ I offer
‘No.. you don’t look like him now, you didn’t look like him last year or the year before’
I might have to look for some new Christmas films.
So having acquired several pairs of cigarette pants constructed of lycra I tested them to the limit. with every helping of Christmas pudding and whipped cream they expanded just a little more. Until a lass they could expand no more. It’s true I’m the only woman in Ireland to have out manoeuvred lycra. I tested it to its limit and it failed, or I succeeded, it depends how you look at it I suppose.
As another year is forced upon me, they’re becoming far too regular for my liking, I’m forced to make resolutions and address bad habits I have acquired during the year. Who am I kidding, there’ll be no resolutions for me, I shall remain the same sarcastic slightly rounder woman you’ve all come to know and appreciate.
So this year will continue pretty much the same as last year and the year before, I’ll play Martha Stewart at home, cooking and baking. I rather enjoy baking, my grandfather was a baker, in the old days, actually he a ‘master baker’, now say that quickly out loud. As a result myself and my sisters love to bake. The only problem with baking is that when you bake you feel obliged to consume everything you’ve baked. This may have contributed to my declining waistline and my ever-growing sideward arse.
I will continue to look for suitable under garments in shops with posh sales assistants, well at least under garments that grow with me. I rather enjoy immersing myself in carpeted and mirrored changing rooms, then, dispatching posh sales assistants to bring me very expensive knickers. Sometimes I throw caution to the wind and buy them, only to leave them in the tissue paper in the drawer, simply because the knickers are posher than I am, actually that’s not difficult, to be posher than me.
So, this blog may be slightly more confusing than usual, I rambled I know. But in my defence I’m weary of people going on about achieving their life’s passion this year, seriously if you have the vision and the will power I do hope you achieve it. I on the other hand will try to make it through the year without any major cockups. Without upsetting or hurting anyone, I’ll try but sometimes I do fail. I know without a doubt that I’ll find some delight during the year and some pain along the way but like everyone else it’s a journey of just another year with the people we love, and some we don’t.
So please feel free to join me for more ramblings in 2018, oh and Vlogs my teenage son has insisted I do more.
The Joy of a New Year