Winterfest at the Oast (with added kitchen duty).
Kerrist I feel like a parent with at least four sprogs - which is kinda funny considering out of all my siblings I'm the only one without offspring. And because everyone else has a sprog and my mother is nowdays incapable and my father overworked, I have become Corvid -Housekeeper Extraordinaire! (Which means mostly I'm tired, slightly ratty, my feet hurt and I'm so busy from 9am 'til 11pm that offerings of wine or coffee get ignored.)
My younger sister (lovely when the world is going her way, a solipsistic complaining pain in the arse when it isn't; eats like a locust) and her noisy goblin child Delilah have been here the past few days.
My brother James (generally pretty cool) his lady Sian and their little rampant neuron Hazel arrived on Christmas eve.
My eldest sister Zoe (insane wench who pisses me off rather a lot*) her man Dom (usually nicely sardonic, occasionally grumpy) and their two sprogs Scarlet (ohsoqueenofherself) and Romely/Indigo (painfullyshy) got here today.
Tomorrow my other brother Bastie (alright) and his lady Anja (sweetheart) as well as their grovs Yana and Dillion will arrive. As will sundry neighbours.
I've spent 13hours straight in the kitchen with a half hour break for lunch and probably another half hour when I was feeding Hazel or helping her mountain-climb the stairs. I've cooked mince pies, carrots julienne, sprouts, broccoli morney, roast potatoes, pears in red wine, as well as one lot of vanilla cream, bread pudding and trifle. I've cleared and tidied after breakfast lunch and supper and done at least six sinkfuls of washing up. Tomorrow is likely to be like today only more so.
Erm. Oh, I did get some presents. I got a plum scented/coloured candle from James, hideous false eyelashes from Katie (I think she thinks I spend my life pole dancing in Soho or something) and some paint brushes from my father - which is cool because leather paint eats brushes.
It does feel like Christmas, it just doesn't feel like Christmas that's there for my benefit or enjoyment - I'm here so other people can enjoy it. Which I mostly don't mind actually. (Is that my inner martyr?) It's just occasionally vexing and constantly knackering.
Heh, the only thing that makes me want to throw a flid are people asking (when I've been working for six hours solid and have just finished everything that could possibly need to be done for the meal) 'Is there anything I can do?' Bollocks to your useless and guilt-assuaging offer of assistance, I find it insulting - get out of my fekking kitchen =P
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*She said to my father, "Oh, I don't mind what there is for lunch, whatever, leftovers are fine." Then she said to Katie, "D'you know what's for lunch? I don't want Christmas day leftovers." Oi, pokey bitch - we had leftovers on Boxing day when we were all grovs living together as a family. Has my father ever fed you leftovers when you're grown-up and visiting? Hell no. He organises bloody three course meals and gets out fine wine and does everything he can to be lavishly hospitable.
Arrgghh. Bitch.
I'm aware this is one of those things that is only irritating to me and likely gets everyone else looking bemused and wtf?.
Sigh.
My younger sister (lovely when the world is going her way, a solipsistic complaining pain in the arse when it isn't; eats like a locust) and her noisy goblin child Delilah have been here the past few days.
My brother James (generally pretty cool) his lady Sian and their little rampant neuron Hazel arrived on Christmas eve.
My eldest sister Zoe (insane wench who pisses me off rather a lot*) her man Dom (usually nicely sardonic, occasionally grumpy) and their two sprogs Scarlet (ohsoqueenofherself) and Romely/Indigo (painfullyshy) got here today.
Tomorrow my other brother Bastie (alright) and his lady Anja (sweetheart) as well as their grovs Yana and Dillion will arrive. As will sundry neighbours.
I've spent 13hours straight in the kitchen with a half hour break for lunch and probably another half hour when I was feeding Hazel or helping her mountain-climb the stairs. I've cooked mince pies, carrots julienne, sprouts, broccoli morney, roast potatoes, pears in red wine, as well as one lot of vanilla cream, bread pudding and trifle. I've cleared and tidied after breakfast lunch and supper and done at least six sinkfuls of washing up. Tomorrow is likely to be like today only more so.
Erm. Oh, I did get some presents. I got a plum scented/coloured candle from James, hideous false eyelashes from Katie (I think she thinks I spend my life pole dancing in Soho or something) and some paint brushes from my father - which is cool because leather paint eats brushes.
It does feel like Christmas, it just doesn't feel like Christmas that's there for my benefit or enjoyment - I'm here so other people can enjoy it. Which I mostly don't mind actually. (Is that my inner martyr?) It's just occasionally vexing and constantly knackering.
Heh, the only thing that makes me want to throw a flid are people asking (when I've been working for six hours solid and have just finished everything that could possibly need to be done for the meal) 'Is there anything I can do?' Bollocks to your useless and guilt-assuaging offer of assistance, I find it insulting - get out of my fekking kitchen =P
=====
*She said to my father, "Oh, I don't mind what there is for lunch, whatever, leftovers are fine." Then she said to Katie, "D'you know what's for lunch? I don't want Christmas day leftovers." Oi, pokey bitch - we had leftovers on Boxing day when we were all grovs living together as a family. Has my father ever fed you leftovers when you're grown-up and visiting? Hell no. He organises bloody three course meals and gets out fine wine and does everything he can to be lavishly hospitable.
Arrgghh. Bitch.
I'm aware this is one of those things that is only irritating to me and likely gets everyone else looking bemused and wtf?.
Sigh.