On the ninth day of Christmas…………
I emptied the bins, but found nowhere to put all the recycling.
Assuming the fish, the birds, the dolphins and all the other stuff on Blue Planet II have the same time-off as us, could I get away with putting some of it in the normal trash?
I saw no women dancing.
But the first day was lovely.
Just like usual.
How we like it.
And I didn’t phone Dad because he died in April.
And I didn’t walk the horse either, because he died in August.
And I didn’t give the wife her pressie because she ran off in March.
But other than that, it was lovely.
The second day was fairly similar, but thankfully we ate all of the dead animals cold.
Like polar bears.
The third day of Christmas was technically a Bank Holiday, but most people I know went back to work.
It wasn’t double-time, but when you’re on zero-hours, the money is quite welcome.
(The new iPhone is so cool, but the contract won’t pay for itself).
Tesco is open again but I struggled to find three French hens.
Most of them came from Poland.
Or Lenwade in Norfolk.
I was a bit down on the fourth day.
I’ve never had 4 calling birds in my back garden.
But recently there’s been a couple of turtle doves.
And I got to thinking they were reincarnations of Mum & Dad.
But they didn’t turn up today
So I was emoticon sad face.
I put out some leftover Cornish Wafers from the second day
and hoped for the best.
By day five I was beginning to wish I’d gone away for the holidays.
The fridge hummed with putrefying ‘stuff’, the bins still weren’t emptied, the medical centre was shut, and most of the telly was just boring repeats.
I watched Come Dine With Me Series 11.
Then went to bed early.
And the day before yesterday was New Year’s Eve.
I swapped over my desk diaries and said goodbye to my own personal
British Gas offered me 50% off a case of Virgin wines.
I politely declined.
Au Revoir smashed avocado & salted caramel kimchi.
Au Revoir seas of empty plastic bottles.
Adios pulled pork & kale smoothies.
Adios carpets of Amazon cardboard.
Bye Bye artisan ganache, wahaca stock pots,
and stand & stuff, gluten-free, pork & stilton giblets.
Bye Bye Baby Jesus, rancid headless turkeys and his royal highness Sir Jeremy Clarkson.
I'm sure we will see you again next year.
(I believe the 12 days start in October?)