Hello lovely family and friends
Behold: It has happened! Assisted by our own two teenagers plus two of their friends! Miracles never cease.
Our sons really, really like tinsel. I’m telling you this, because you would never have guessed from this photo of our tree. They even put tinsel in the kitchen, and my Mum was remembering one year when they did the decorations at her house and put tinsel in the toilet, for that festive call of nature feeling.
Seated appealingly (some say creepily) under the tree is a pig named Wilbur. He sings ‘My Girl’ if you press his foot:
“I got sunshine, on a cloudy day.
When it’s cold outside…” etc.
His mouth even moves. Who even designs something like that?
We get together at Christmas with a couple of other families, and have a secret present auction. Everyone brings one (funny/edible/strange) wrapped gift, and you roll a dice to 1) select a present 2) unwrap a present, 3) pass it to the left or 4) right 5) make other people swap 6) steal one from someone else. Towards the end, you set a timer and it gets crazy, with people trying to get their present of choice or lose their unwanted present. After the official game is over, you can do deals or trades with any willing party.
I had bought Wilbur from a charity shop for said auction, and the person who won him didn’t want him, so I traded him for chocolate. My youngest and I had decided we wanted to keep him, being fond of pigs, probably because of all the pig audio books we listened to many, many, many times back in the day – Babe, the Sheep Pig; Charlotte’s Web, Ace…
Wilbur has subsequently been banished from under the Christmas tree, because my oldest (and his mates) think he is creepy as.
Davy : ignoring the world
Hobbes: into everything
Helping with wrapping, having already disembowelled the father Christmas hat, and knocked / battered / pulled multiple ornaments off the Christmas tree. Never a dull moment.
I have two other massive achievements this week – baked (but not iced) the Christmas cake, and visited the donkey.
Up the road from us is a field that, from time to time, contains a donkey. I don’t know where he goes when he is not in said field, maybe he is a timeshare donkey? Anyway, I have been meaning to walk there and say hello ever since we moved hear a year and a half ago. When I was a kid, I would have been there every day, and my 85 year old mother actually met him before I did, walking up the hill for her daily constitutional. I guess I am in the busy, juggling balls sage of life (even more balls than usual currently, which is why my blog is late…). He is very fluffy and relaxed, unlike Botswana donkeys who are thin-skinned desert models, who are deeply suspicious and very skittish, lest you cunningly creep up on them, catch them, and harness them to your cart to carry drums of water from the dam to your cattle post. It’s another world…
So, which ever part of the world you live in, may you give the nearest donkey a carrot! May your cat not knock over your Christmas tree! And may you and yours be blessed this Christmas!