The good news is, the Winter Solstice is fast approaching. We’ll enjoy the shortest day of the year. The bad news is… no, there is no bad news, really. We had a few days of not doing much apart from walking around the streets of Northenden and slightly beyond. We were grasping at any available splash of colour to alleviate the grey, gloom, cold and drizzle.
It’s good to see that the local eating emporia take great care to keep their pests under control. I’ve anonymised the premises, but I don’t think we’ll be dining there any time soon.
While looking after William, a ladder appeared in the garden. The window cleaners were here much to William’s delight, especially when they used lots of soapy water on the glass. We read some books, watched a lot of TV, including half of Peter Pan. There are three remote controls on offer and he knows which one gives access to DVDs, and which to recorded TV programmes. We did puzzles, built towers and knocked them down again. He wasn’t so keen on my singing, unbelievably, but he did eat a good lunch.
At Nursery, Martha made cookies, one for herself and one for William. After dinner, the cookies were consumed. Martha didn’t like hers, because it was too spicy. And yes, the ginger flavour was quite overpowering.
Driving home afterwards, we discussed the beauty of all the Christmas decorations outside people’s houses. Some go a bit overboard, but one thing we realised was missing: a drunk snowman. I doubt we’ll have a White Christmas this year, it’ll probably just be cold and grey, but I hope we do have a chance to build a snowman with William and Martha at some point.
We went for a quick late-night walk and guess what we found?
A whole tent has been erected outside this house, within which is a sort of nativity scene, but with lots of modern additions, such as illuminated snowglobes and inflatable characters not necessarily present in Bethlehem that year.
I visited the local dentist but more painful was the haircut. I left with some, but won’t have to visit him again for a very long time.
It wouldn’t be a proper old-style barbershop without a yarn being spun.
The first time I lost my virginity, I was in my brother’s bed, then, after doing the deed, she, the girl, like, made a brew and made me watch Mrs Doubtfire.
His colleague laughed when he failed to recognise the Queen Christmas song, ‘Thank God it’s Christmas’, blasting from the radio, when he is, apparently, a big fan of Queen and knows all the Christmas songs!
Silver clippings on the floor a mere reflection of the frost on the pavement outside, a shorn head takes its time to reacclimatise to Winter.
Flytipping is a popular pastime around here too. Nothing spoils a walk by the river quite like a discarded case of old clothes. Yes, it’s colourful, but what an eyesore.