Festive Family Fun

L: I’ll roll. Right, if this is another difficult it’ll be unbelievable… Two. Difficult. Crap! All of ours have been difficult! Sorry Charlotte.

Ch: S’ok… Err, it’s quite hard but not too difficult.

B: Is it an all play?

Ch: Yeh.

B: Chris you’re up.

C: Oh yeh… Ok...

L: Wait for the timer, Chris. 

C: ERR have I drawn anything? No.

L: Wait, wait – it takes ages to run back down – wait… aaand… go! Ok... sea, waves, err… waves -  

M: Beach, shore… bay –

L: Cove –

Ch: YES! Cove!

C: What?! How the f*** did you get that? 

L: An excellent drawing.

C: Show us then. What is that?! Who would get cove from THAT? That is NOT cove.

L: Well obviously it is because we just got it.  We’re just on the same wave length aren’t we team?

B: Ok well, we let you get that. We’ll get the next one.

C: Yeh if they don’t cheat.

L: Right, Mum it’s your go.

M: Pass the dice then, Chris. Four. All play. Ok. Can do.

B: There’s no way we won’t get this, Chris.

L: Mum, you need to give him the card then.

M: Oops oh yeh.

C: Well that’s not fair because you’ve had extra thinking time now.

M: Oh shurrup.

B: Doesn’t matter, Chris - we’ve got this.

L: Don’t draw anything until the timer’s ready…  aaannd… wait… go! Err – 

Ch: House, home – 

L: Garden, two houses, umm... garden – 

C: Garages, parking space, space, err... parking lot?! Err, park - 

L: Garden, field - 

M: Mm, mm –

C: Mum stop making noises. 

M: I’m not!

B: Focus Chris!

L: Garden, space, empty space, plot of land – 

Ch: Land for sale, plot – 

M: Mm - 

C: Stop communicating!

L: Plot, vacant plot –

M: Yes! Vacant plot.

C: Vacant plot?! You were blatantly cheating!!

And so it continued until the girls won. And that is why Dad refuses to play Pictionary.

Festive Feeling Action Plan

Sitting at home feeling sick is PANTS. I’m currently laid-up on the sofa, feeling sorry for myself.  I’m tucked under a duvet cover, massively regretting the miserly bowl of cereals I just attempted and wondering just how long this bug is planning on taking up residence in my stomach. Lovely.

In contrast, right now at school everybody will be enjoying one of the highlights of the year - the much anticipated annual school talent show. The hall will be erupting in cheers and laughter and the kids will be being whipped into an excitable frenzy. And it won’t be long before the renowned teachers’ piece. 

Last year we performed a rap and this year we have made a film of us misbehaving around school. Clambering onto the top of one of the lunch trollies and hurtling down the corridor at full speed was my best bit, especially because a mere 24 hours before, I’d walked that corridor on my best behaviour with an inspector, whose judgement showed she held us in a very high regard don’t you know. The controlled professionalism of the previous day somehow enhanced the excitement of the rebellion and a wonderful juxtaposition ensued… 

Anyway, the film will go down a storm and I hate that I’m missing it. 

I hadn’t realised how much school contributes to my feeling of festive cheer.  Despite the fact that I’ve been staring at our delightfully adorned Christmas tree for the past three days, I feel distinctly lacking in that fuzzy, festive feeling.  The Christmas build up is important.  Posting a photo of my favourite bauble on Facebook didn’t cut the mustard. Perhaps I need some form of Festive Feeling Action Plan to remedy the situation (which obviously shows that I have definitely been struck down with some form of bizarre school withdrawal thing too).

Festive Feeling Action Plan

1. Switch over to Classic FM
2. Buy a John Rutter Christmas album and put it on repeat
3. Delight in the descant line to Hark the Herald Angels Sing
4. Head home to see the fam
5. Eat an unnecessary amount of Lindt*
6. Eat an unnecessary amount of dry roasted peanuts*
7. Eat an unnecessary amount of cheese*
8. Watch The Holiday
9. Watch The Nativity
10. Start quoting Elf  

*Dependent on stomach resuming normal service

Hopefully that should do it...

Karma

Yesterday, I imprisoned The Boyfriend in our flat.  This was not due to some newfound sadistic tendency, but as a result of being downright stupid. From the top…

My tin can car has, up to this point, served me very well. Other people enjoy the comfort of their mod cons - CD players and electric windows and whatever else comes in a modern motor - but I have always been quite happy with trusty Eileen getting me from A to B without sounding like she’s in danger of dissembling about my seat.  But I’m sad to report that as time wears on, she is becoming increasingly less convincing at doing this.  Her most recent ailment is a violent growl.  Problemo. 

So yesterday, The Boyfriend kindly leant me his lovely car. I jovially trotted off to work to embark on a new day and, as I was beavering away setting up the day’s inspirational learning opportunities, he was frantically trying to call me to say I’d done a runner with his house keys.  Oblivious to his distress, I then happily welcomed thirty smiling faces whilst he was in dire straits because he had to summon the balls to ring The Boss to inform him of the situation.  The Boss was thankfully reasonably understanding considering the circumstances, however The Boyfriend was forced to take a day’s holiday which he didn’t want and was then confined to a foodless flat.  Oops.  

As a result, today I have been slapped around the face with a hefty, wet karma fish. Nothing has gone right. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. Nothing! Not one thing. Nada! Appalling day.

So I am going to put a car at the top of my Christmas list in the hope that this doesn't happen again.

Unwritten

I was just about to put fingers to keys to write an enthralling blog entitled ‘Reasons why I hate my printer’ when I was rudely stopped in my tracks.

The hoodwinking hunk of junk has done nothing other than piss me off today.  This printer’s point blank refusal to do anything is definitely one of very few things in life which manages to inspire true rage in me. What’s the point in being a printer if you refuse to print? THERE IS NO POINT!

Every time it pretended it was going to do something helpful, I allowed myself to feel a glimmer of hope and then, sensing my clenched fists relaxing, it would stop altogether and laugh in my face. “Hahahaha you thought I was actually going to PRINT something! You FOOL!” CURSES!!!

Feeling mightily riled, I decided I would write a damning review of the hp psc 1350 all-in-one (crap name), just in case you ever see one and are tempted to try and coax it into working.  If you were ever to have the misfortune of coming across one, you would look at it, probably be impressed by its memory card slot on the front as I was, remember said review and remind yourself not to be lured in by its good looks.  You would not be conned and you would be saved from hours of hassle.  Being of an attractive azure hue DOES NOT MAKE YOU GOOD AT YOUR JOB.

Anyway, I think I shocked it into action by claiming that if it didn’t start sucking the effing paper up I’d stab myself with a pencil. 

Regrettably, I am sad to say therefore that ‘Reasons why I hate my printer’ is left unwritten.  I can’t believe it has even denied me of this high calibre anecdote. 

Try that charade again, hp, and you won’t live to stop me telling the tale.