I am so bloody predictable. Oh, and busy. Crazy busy. Oh gods - Katie.
Ebay stuff is finally dealt with, all I have to do now is transfer most of the funds to my father's account since it was all done at his behest, he owns the stuff and I get a percentage. (A 50% cut, I should point out before I sound too woe-begone.)
Today I wanted to sleep. Or to draw. Or to go to the cinema and watch Sherlock Holmes.
Instead I hefted boxes to and from the attic, tried to sort the tree, did lots of washing up, tried to air out the dining room so it doesn't smell of wet sheep, organised the Oast so it was vaguely Katie and Delilah proof, parceled many things etc etc. I really should go downstairs and make supper and possibly a couple of other suppers so there is choice and variety since Katie is bound to be difficult.
(This sounds utterly stupid, but I don't know how strict a Muslim Katie is being. Nor do I know if Delilah is included. She's mentioned Ben doesn't eat pork and non Halal meet. No mention about alcohol either way. Not a word on her preferences.)
In Britain, if one celebrates christmas in a secular manner, once the church and the hymn/carol singing have been ditched then all that's really left is the traditions of the celebration itself. For the past century this has meant: a decorated tree, gifts given, meat eaten, alcohol drunk.
I, as kitchen wench, must attempt to do full christmas fare for my father, my brother, his lady, the two grovs and myself. Whilst simultaneously fixing something suitable for Katie's bloke and possibly for Katie and Delilah too. I dunno. This is actually quite a chore.
*Sigh* I'm not that hot on religion. By which I mean, I quarrel with it a fair amount. Spiritualism I like, and philosophy is great for brain pokking. But religions with all the (obsolete?) rules and things that must be accepted and not questioned and the 'you are a good person for following obscure rules' as opposed to 'you are a good person for always trying to be/do humanitarian/moral good' that tends to grate. Bah, yes I am being difficult. I'm just not really looking forward to having someone I don't know dumped on me for christmas. To make matters worse, his diet and religion are pokey and I don't know where the boundaries lie.
Oh, and my father has said he refuses to be dictated to in his own home. Which is kinda fair enough considering Katie and Ben are not the only ones staying here over christmas....
Katie arrives with Delilah this eve.
My world is gonna get very noisy and possibly quite stressful real soon.
=======
My father asked what I was grumbling to myself about the other day.
I said 'Neurons want a pretty dress and stupid shoes to wear for christmas.'
"So they should!" commented my father.
'Not helping!' I growled back. 'I've found stuff, maybe, but it's 40quid.'
"For the dress?"
'No, for a velvet dress, heeled shoes, lace tights and a blue glass necklace.'
His eyebrows raised. "Skinflint," he accused.
'Argh - sooo NOT helping!'
My father laughed.
Here, have a (really) badly drawn fashion plate. Apparently neurons want to be a Tardis for winterfest and no amount of me telling them to fekk off makes the slightest bit of difference. *sigh*
Of course I have realised all this is so I can be wearing a COSTUME and therefore be NOT-QUITE-ME but a CHARACTER and therefore can be serene and not care in the face of Katie and cooking and stress.
Dear gods neurons you are ever so predictable you little bastards, y'know that?
And now I must attempt NOT to fall asleep but instead go cook things. Don't wanna. Wah.
Today I wanted to sleep. Or to draw. Or to go to the cinema and watch Sherlock Holmes.
Instead I hefted boxes to and from the attic, tried to sort the tree, did lots of washing up, tried to air out the dining room so it doesn't smell of wet sheep, organised the Oast so it was vaguely Katie and Delilah proof, parceled many things etc etc. I really should go downstairs and make supper and possibly a couple of other suppers so there is choice and variety since Katie is bound to be difficult.
(This sounds utterly stupid, but I don't know how strict a Muslim Katie is being. Nor do I know if Delilah is included. She's mentioned Ben doesn't eat pork and non Halal meet. No mention about alcohol either way. Not a word on her preferences.)
In Britain, if one celebrates christmas in a secular manner, once the church and the hymn/carol singing have been ditched then all that's really left is the traditions of the celebration itself. For the past century this has meant: a decorated tree, gifts given, meat eaten, alcohol drunk.
I, as kitchen wench, must attempt to do full christmas fare for my father, my brother, his lady, the two grovs and myself. Whilst simultaneously fixing something suitable for Katie's bloke and possibly for Katie and Delilah too. I dunno. This is actually quite a chore.
*Sigh* I'm not that hot on religion. By which I mean, I quarrel with it a fair amount. Spiritualism I like, and philosophy is great for brain pokking. But religions with all the (obsolete?) rules and things that must be accepted and not questioned and the 'you are a good person for following obscure rules' as opposed to 'you are a good person for always trying to be/do humanitarian/moral good' that tends to grate. Bah, yes I am being difficult. I'm just not really looking forward to having someone I don't know dumped on me for christmas. To make matters worse, his diet and religion are pokey and I don't know where the boundaries lie.
Oh, and my father has said he refuses to be dictated to in his own home. Which is kinda fair enough considering Katie and Ben are not the only ones staying here over christmas....
Katie arrives with Delilah this eve.
My world is gonna get very noisy and possibly quite stressful real soon.
=======
My father asked what I was grumbling to myself about the other day.
I said 'Neurons want a pretty dress and stupid shoes to wear for christmas.'
"So they should!" commented my father.
'Not helping!' I growled back. 'I've found stuff, maybe, but it's 40quid.'
"For the dress?"
'No, for a velvet dress, heeled shoes, lace tights and a blue glass necklace.'
His eyebrows raised. "Skinflint," he accused.
'Argh - sooo NOT helping!'
My father laughed.
Here, have a (really) badly drawn fashion plate. Apparently neurons want to be a Tardis for winterfest and no amount of me telling them to fekk off makes the slightest bit of difference. *sigh*
Of course I have realised all this is so I can be wearing a COSTUME and therefore be NOT-QUITE-ME but a CHARACTER and therefore can be serene and not care in the face of Katie and cooking and stress.
Dear gods neurons you are ever so predictable you little bastards, y'know that?
And now I must attempt NOT to fall asleep but instead go cook things. Don't wanna. Wah.