Well, here’s some serendipitous subject matter.
‘Tis the season, and my brain thinks we’re still in March. I am utterly unprepared for the impending, and compulsory, merriment.
The summer was skin-meltingly hot, I remember, but it feels like that was a couple of years ago. I’m currently halfway through making Aimée’s Christmas present. It should be ready by New Year. (Note: I don’t say it’ll be ready by this New Year.)
I have sent my Christmas cards. In itself, not a massive achievement, but it’ll do. I don’t know for certain, but I think we’re having pizza for Christmas lunch, this is uncle-dependant. If he’s heading this way, I should probably start slashing crosses into the bottoms of brussel sprouts. If not, bring on the pepperoni, black olives, bacon and mushroom.
Yesterday, I went into battle with Chapter Seven. I started at the crack of noon and went right the way through to dawn. I think I’m happy with it. At this point, I have no idea.
One of the dogs has made a smell. I can’t see it but equally, I can’t move for it. It’s as if an egg went bad inside a corpse somewhere near the bedroom.
I should call my uncle. I should work on Chapter Eight. I should go food shopping. I should email a Merry Christmas to my Movie Nighters.
I want to watch ‘True Blood’ and sip Guinness in a decadent, nay luxurious, manner.
Instead, I’ll go and find the source of the smell.
Merry Merry, everyone 😁