That, Dear Reader, is One (see above) perpetually offering a smiling, cheerful (and obv flawlessly beautiful) face to the world.
Yesterday, and temporarily over the weekend, Pollyanna left the building.
The thing is this, Dears, Christmas appears to have been cancelled in all of One’s ports of call this year.
‘There isn’t room for a Christmas Tree in here,’ opined the A of the F when One began mentally measuring up for decking the hall with boughs of holly. (and, by the way, how does he know what I’m thinking?)
Back at the Bung of Doom ‘I hate Christmas’ is the preferred mantra of the chatelaine.
As for One’s eclectic collection of Seasonal baubles: they are packed away with the rest of One’s life in a big wooden chest in the Underground Lair.
When One and Boy went to look at the Underground Lair prior to purchase, One said to Boy…
‘Where shall we put the Christmas Tree?’ (that being the first consideration for One on any home acquisition.)
‘Mumuz, it’s only April!’ countered Boy.
One recounts this story merely to share with you,Dear Reader, the importance One places on this time of year and the keeping of all it’s traditions.
Surely there is nothing in the world nicer than sitting in the firelight with the twinkly glow of the Christmas Tree lights sharing a Tesco Winebox of Pinot with the One you love? Chuck in a three quid box of Tesco Collection chocolates and yer luck’s in!
Any road up, One is back to normal this very a.m. and ready to take on the womb of doom…