Hello lovely, Christmassy people!
I hope this missive finds you in a Christmassy mood. The best news has just walked through my front door with the cry of victory, Victoria came in with three carriers bags full of shopping shouting THAT’S IT! CHRISTMAS FOOD SHOPPING DONE!! The reaction from me was oh yesssss because I truly do not know of a better cook than Victoria. She can be standing in front of an open fridge and food cupboard with, to me, a bundle of disjointed and random food ingredients and make an absolutely delicious meal from them. I used to be able to cook a fairly decent meal and a good curry. Victoria didn't like my cooking style and especially doesn't like a 'good' stonking curry, so I stopped cooking and over time became de-skilled in the culinary arts. Now if I was presented with the same fridge and cupboard as she was the end result would be a creation which our cats would hiss at, dogs would avoid like the vets and I would be arrested for making a weapon of mass digestion. So I just eat what Victoria cooks and Gaviston has lost 2% market value. If she asks me what I would like for dinner my reply is always “surprise me” with the sure knowledge that it will be a healthy and pleasant surprise.
As of now I have had my mother tell me that she hates my beard, my son posted on Facebook the following “Good G*d that needs to go you have aged 40 years”. I totally agree with them, it's clipped my wings as a babe magnet. The fact that my 'babes' are aged between 75 to 90 and are normally referred to as good friends, which they are, does not give me any confidence in the wiry tangle on my chin having a life expectancy of over 1 hour after the Brexit bill goes through. You see? I have suffered insults, mocking, cream stippled moustaches after each coffee, food filtered through and in my beard. Have I suffered? No, not really, it has been an exercise in doing something that was possible for me to do in a wheelchair accompanied by massive fatigue, spasms and the cognitive ability (on the fly) of an ant. Nope not poor me, just adapted me. MS now has a new meaning. It stands for 'minor set-back' because everybody has problems, its just that you can't see them. Being in a wheelchair at least shows that something weird is going on in my life
My fund raiser seems to have stalled now at ₤723 which is a fantastic amount that I am satisfied with, but will continue to mention it in case people who WANT to can. Plus, of course, I made a promise to all of my supporters that it would stay until Brexit is done – probably on 31st January. A promise is a promise people!
No moral to all of this, just a great big thank you to everybody who reads this and a merry Christmas and a prosperous and happy new year to everybody.