Skye and I decided that we ought to have a Christmas do and to hell with the fact that we were only giving people a week's notice. And then we kindly told Mike, seeing as how he lives here on the weekends, just so he wouldn't feel left out. And then the rejection texts and emails poured in and we thought, 'bugger, we hate our friends, why the hell can't they drop all their other plans and come to our soiree?', but pretended that we didn't care.
But we went ahead anyway, and it was, of course, terribly well attended, despite us not telling anyone that we'd (Skye) made Santa's Filthy Grotto. Some charming photos are floating around. I made asparagus rolls so that Mel would come. She was threatening not to, so I pulled out the big bribes.
Side note: I had a conversation recently with someone about how you have to make asparagus rolls with canned asparagus, otherwise you just don't get that 70s housewifely feeling of accomplishment, or that nice squishy white bread and canned asparagus feeling of goodness. They were asking why on earth I'd use canned asparagus when there's so much fresh about. I don't think they'd ever had a really well rolled asparagus roll.
I think some other things have happened but obviously nothing particuarly impressive. Work rolls on - it's mostly good, but I do have the feeling that something is missing. Not sure what. It certainly isn't chocolate. All the companies that print or typeset for us have been sending us huge tins of chocolate for Christmas. One sent us an incredibly swanky box that had a four-page menu and a chocolate the size of a piece of toast. We were all very polite about not taking it, whilst secretly coveting it. And then, disaster. Word got around Sales and Marketing that editorial had treats and one morning we came in and the incredibly big piece of chocolate was gone. And no one would own up to eating it. I believe the cleaners were blamed.
London continues to get quite bloody chilly and I curse that I have yet to find a pair of woollen stay up stockings because I loathe tights and gussets. It's a hard life when this is my biggest worry.
I really do sound rather shallow, sometimes. Not all the time, of course, but quite a large percentage of it.
Am spending Christmas with Katie and Mike and Mike's family in some small village somewhere. Am going to be on my best behaviour. It can be done.
And then I believe I get a Kruse on the 28th. And if I don't, I might throw a tanty.