Ok, I give in…I have embraced the whole twinkly palaver and descent into mild over-stuffed hysteria that is Christmas. I have made my own card.
The halls are decked, tinsel tamed, bells jingled, mince pies baked and I have Santa’s mail-order number on speed dial. I’ve refrained from scowling when every store assaults my ears with Christmas muzac playing on an endless loop. Three cards have been received already – two from the Chinese takeaway.
The only problem is that red fluffy bits of marabou feather trim have migrated to every item of clothing and room in the house – I’m literally spitting feathers!
Wishing you all a happy, sparkly and peaceful Christmas. See you next year.
This little watercolour painting was my attempt at humour. It was a birthday gift for my youngest step-daughter who runs her own personal training business.
After the picture was left to dry on a table in another room I forgot all about it until I overheard two teenage friends of my son talking and realised they were discussing it. One lad obviously didn’t get the joke as the other said “That’s a trainer, see? And it’s making personal remarks to the weights – the trainer is telling the weights that they’re dumb”. He still didn’t really understand it.
So I thought it would be prudent to include his explanation just in case my sense of humour is less quirky than I’d imagined and is far more strange than is conventional.