Sunday, 9 January 2011
Saturday December 25th – Family Christmas and no chance of Sultanas.
Today was blissfully easy and smiley for all. I managed, almost impeccably, to reign in the need to fuss and criticise the occasion. I was positively laidback and everyone was grateful for this calm, predominantly cotton and denim wrapped present. I don’t believe that it had anything to do with the few drops of festive cheer that passed my lips today. How can that have made any difference?
There is just something magnificent about a glass of bubbles in the morning. I’m not saying that it would be a good idea to start every day with a Champagne breakfast, but there’s a small part of me that could certainly get used to it. It gives you more of a glow than Readybrek, that’s for sure! After 9 months of pregnancy and nearly a year of breastfeeding, my tolerance for alcohol has been obliterated. It’s slowing being built back up, as The Little Perfect One now only has milk first thing in the morning and last thing at night. Yes, I can now manage 2 full glasses of red on a Friday night without dribbling and passing out on the stairs. Yet, daytime drinking is something altogether more deadly. After a few sips of fizz at 10:00am this morning, my cheeks were burning and I was unable to stop giggling for at least 45 minutes.
Yes, I was a little bit tipsy, but I certainly wasn’t the worst. Bernard spent the morning in a boss-eyed spin, ricocheting around the house and then most of the afternoon snoring contentedly in his hammock. I wonder if, in a few decades, the ‘true horror’ of catnip will hit the headlines and we’ll all need to support our furry friends through re-hab. Oh well, for now at least, the words ‘cold turkey’ can only mean a festive treat for our resident junky.
I think The Little Perfect One is already a huge fan of this Christmas business. He has been clapping, shrieking, laughing, singing and dancing the whole day. He is a very happy little person most of the time, but both Hoobiz and I agreed that today there was a distinctly festive lilt in his cheerful babbling.
We didn’t even give The Little Perfect One all of his presents. He was having far too much fun playing with what he already had. Now, for me, that is extremely laidback. Normally I would have struggled to ignore the Ghost of Christmas Perfection howling in my ear, ‘It’s Christmas day! He has to have his presents! It won’t be a proper Christmas, until every last box has been opened.’
Hoobiz did unwrap all of his presents and was delighted with his ‘Christmas miracle’ Apple TV. The miracle was that it had managed to arrive in time. I ordered it at the beginning of December, or so I thought. What I had actually done was add the item to the basket, proceed to checkout, enter my card details and delivery address and confirm the order. What I had failed to do was confirm the order for the second time, making all of my previous tapping just random finger exercises. This was my first mistake. My second mistake was that, despite not receiving a confirmation email, I didn’t chase the order until lunchtime on December 23rd.
When I did contact Apple, the delightful man at the end of the phone could not have been more helpful. He actually managed to explain to me what he thought I had done on my order, without making me sound like a complete Plonker. I am, but I appreciated his tact. He then happily placed the order correctly and read out the critical confirmation number. Despite not paying for an expedited service, the wonderful package was delivered the following afternoon. Of course, we weren’t there, but one of our lovely neighbours took it in for us. Joy to the world!
After putting The Little Perfect One to bed Hoobiz and I started to cook our festive fare. I had been very insistent that this was to be savoured at the table and not on our laps, but after a few slurps of Pinot Noir, the sofa didn’t seem that terrible after all. We didn’t even pull the crackers, but it still felt a lot like Christmas.