Operation Northern Santa

Well, there's not a lot to it this year... some of the stuff for the north of the country's been entrusted to the post office (so I hope you're all ready in Australia if the performance of my still-missing piston rings is anything to go by); and others gone by other means so just a quick run up to young Miss Biro's to drop off seasonal supplies, and to say hello to Miss VJ who was over at the same time; greet Miss Poopyarse the cat who's still grumpy at me for laughing at her dangleberry incident last time I was over there, a bit of Love Actually on the box (yeuccch, that's just too much), a bit of To The Manor Born (kind of predictable and pointless; fine performances though). A most unexpected healthy tasty curry provided for me (ta!) which I wasn't expecting but at least I can say I've had some form of christmas dinner today. Then back over the bridge on a clear cold night, with the windows rolled down and no other cars in sight, all those lights in that clean clear air makes me feel really alive; the only thing better is doing the Dartford QE2 bridge in summer, on the bike with your visor open. That's living.

It's not been a traditional one. I've said for years that what I'd really like to do is be grumpy cat man and spend christmas on my own with the hairy lad; and now I've actually done it; although more through being sick and knackered than anything else. Packing and wrapping a couple of days later than all the real people in the world, the deadlines making wonderful whooshing noises as they went by, eventually had to abandon the travel plans to get to the south and instead reversed the original idea; I'd go to Northbank tonight and Saaarf tomorrow morning. At least it meant I got to enjoy the "World at War" stack they were having on one of the Sat channels, Olivier did such great vocals for that series.... " the end was coming and it was MUSHROOM SHAPED..." such great lines. Never mind, if I ever get this nonsense sorted, "Southern Santa" kicks off in a few hours. Huzzah. Lets salvage something, eh?

Poor old Giz is in the stress again. Not sure if he's been bitten, but I stepped into the house to the sound of gooooood cat noises (you'll remember, the ones that mean "not one happy cat"). Sure enough, that bloody ginger thing had somehow evaded passport control and got through the controlled flap, and they were indeed having a faceoff in the kitchen. It doesn't like me though (and I dont like it), and scarpered at first sight. A shame. Hadn't reached my fixing hammer. My lad doesn't seem to have let it get to his head though; he's just brought a mouse in, at this time of year even, and he's troughing into his christmas treat bowl of tuna like it's going out of fashion tomorrow, so all is well again in his head, I think.