Before I start today’s blog I would like to thank everyone for joining in on Facebook yesterday with the epic twelve days of Christmas posts, I wanted to bring back the old interactive Facebook that made it such fun all those years ago before advertising and ‘personal experience’ started to dampen it down. It made a great diversion and I hope you enjoyed it, just got to ween the Turtle Doves off hobnobs and I’ll be fine.
I have just one more favour to ask, this weekend we are visiting a brand new gallery, one that has no previous history of Impossimal appearances and we would like it to be a great appearance for them, so if you could share, inform or generally let anybody you think might be interested in coming along know about the event so we can make the day go with a bang that would be appreciated. It all kicks off at Castle Fine Art in Cheltenham this Saturday 14th December between 2-5pm, which coincidentally is also Jaynes birthday so making her work instead of celebrating makes me feel a bit of a heel. If any of you can make it on the day please come along as they have some wonderful pieces including one original that we have been hiding away just for this event, the Mysterious Count Carpathian Von Porl. On Sunday 15th December we will be at the incredibly popular Castle Galleries in Bluewater, 1-4pm for our penultimate appearance.
Anyway, on with the blog…
LOOSE NUTS GUIDE TO A PERFECT CHRISTMAS
It’s that time of year again when we all gather together and realise why we spend the rest of the year avoiding each other so what better than to follow a few handy tips to avoid the stress of wearing a sodding smile for so long that your ears hurt after getting yet another handkerchief set with your initials on.
Queue outside of the supermarket at 7am in the morning to do the big shop, as they will be shut for one day make sure you buy enough supplies to last for three weeks. Push, shove and bully your way through the shop, scrap over bags of brussels and don’t forget the nuts and satsumas. Return home with no less than ten bags. Unpack.
Have a big sip of Advocaat or that cheeky brandy laced egg nog and wrap your presents ready for the big day. Panic when you realise that you have forgotten somebody then sigh with relief as you find a bottle of wine you were given that you hated. The tops been opened where you had a sniff but wrap it anyway after cleaning the dust off and add the label.
At this late stage with all the shops shut a bottle of wine is a perfectly acceptable gift for the under fives. Have another sip and carry on. Don’t forget to check that all the toys have batteries, realise that you have inadvertently bought the batteries but forgot the toys. Wrap the batteries up and add a tag that says ‘Toy Not Included’. Have another sip.
Carry on wrapping and sipping for the next hour until either all your presents are wrapped in some form or you start trying to wrap the cat. Giggle at the half wrapped cat then attempt to stroke it, go straight to the bathroom for the plasters and apply them to all the cuts and scratches.
Finish off the first bottle and get out all your vegetables for the big Christmas dinner. Put the brussels on as they will need at least twelve hours, potatoes can also go on as they should be grey in colour and devoid of taste. Return back to the onerous task of dealing with gifts.
Have a quick sip and place the tree under the presents. Look at the pretty baubles and dreamily watch your own reflection for a few minutes mesmerised by the flashing lights. Think ‘my god, it’s Christmas’ and have a good swig of the bottle. Slowly close your eyes and collapse onto the pile of presents.
Wake up. Wonder why you are half naked under the tree, wonder why your mouth tastes like a stale shoe, wonder why the rest of your family is staring at you. Grab for the bottle and have a sip, ahh, that feels better.
Open your gifts with your family, smile unconvincingly at all the correct moments and wince uncontrollably as they open presents that are woefully disappointing. Explain to your five year old that a bottle of wine is actually a Buzz Lightyear spaceship filled with space juice for the journey. Demonstrate by drinking the contents.
Start Christmas breakfast, you know you are going to stuff yourself silly and by tea time you will look like you have swallowed a beach ball so with a wisdom based on tradition you decide that for breakfast you are going to have either a full English or something posh like smoked salmon just to get the ball rolling.
Suddenly remember as you are cooking the sausages that you have forgotten to defrost the turkey.
Spend the next hour with the turkey in the bath, crying uncontrollably and using a hair dryer to thaw it out.
Bung it in the oven, turn it up to full and start straining the vegetables out. Whilst the turkey is cooking start to make the gravy using some red wine. Realise that there is no wine in the house and scream before picking up a packet of Bisto instead and making do with the reality of surviving Christmas on just one bottle of sherry you bought for an ageing relative and a half bottle of Bells.
At 5pm weep uncontrollably again as you serve dinner four hours late to an empty table. Wake all your semi drunk guests and family from their slumped television slumber and give them party hats. Get angry that after slaving away for hours on end they don’t appreciate you and the effort you have made this Christmas. Finish the Bells off and slice the turkey.
Spend the next ten minutes weeping and coming to terms that the turkey is only cooked on the outside. Look on the bright side at least you haven’t had to endure the usual leg or breast jokes that grow so tiresome each and every bloody year. The brussels look more like mushy peas and the potatoes taste like glue but everyone says nothing and puts on a false glee that sees you through to the end of the meal.
Rant uncontrollably that you are never doing Christmas ever again, it’s been a bloody mess from start to finish and everyone can cook their own dinner next year. Finish the sherry.
Rescue what you can from the turkey and make sandwiches, throw them in the laps of your guests and sit down to watch television. Realise you forgot to make a trifle. Quietly weep.
Stay in bed. Survive by making sorties to the kitchen for leftovers and working your way through a bucket of Miniature Heroes. Rally a little around tea time and pop next door to borrow a few bottles of wine. Feel better. Finish off the Christmas Toblerone, the festive box of Malteasers and the Milk Tray. Wash it all down with the wine.
Yay! Realise all the shops are open, go and stock up on all essential supplies such as wine and alcohol. Don’t forget to get the crisps, dips and other assorted snacks ready for New Year.
NEW YEARS EVE
Weep uncontrollably at midnight as you regale all the misery from the year whilst smashed out of your tiny head and trying to sing Auld Lang Syne to strangers. Remove crudités from your hair whilst scooping handfulls of Dorritos into your mouth. Make a New Years resolution to never drink again and say next year is going to be different.
NEW YEARS DAY
Wake up under the tree again minus one shoe. Realise that its a New Year and you have got another 365 days of this crap. Start drinking.
You have survived Christmas! Have a drink to celebrate!