Christmas is a week away, i’m behind with shopping and Skinty McSkintface.
Yesterday, I took my little muffin to see Father Christmas, along with my Nannie, at a local garden centre.
Things didn’t go well before we had even left the house. Mummy had awful greasy hair and wonky eyebrows(I lost half of one to a scar as a child. True 80s child I headbutted a Teasmaid) and W decided to run off as I tried to get him in the car and stepped in shit, which he promptly smeared all up my arm and all over the car seat. Fuck my liiiife.
Anyhoo, we went and saw the big man himself, it was AWESOME. Lights and elves and snow and much magical merriment. Even my nan sat on Father Christmas’ lap, what a babe.
So today I had plans of housework and washing, I envisaged myself with perfect hair and sparkly pink marigolds, scrubbing my house and all that.
What a crock of shit.
My hair is even greasier, the brat is extra clingy and the housework is even less done than it was yesterday.
Number of fucks given = BIG FAT ZERO
Thought if we are having a slob day, we should watch films. And nothing that contains Justin BLOODY Fletcher, Postman Pat or Bob the Builder.
Decided to watch ‘It’s a Wonderful Life’, which I have never seen before despite loving old films(I love Doris Day, anything musical or black and white).
Well, what a beautiful treat of a film. Two hours of 1940s splendour and glamour, an absorbing story and a sob-inducing ending.
“Every time a bell rings an angel gains its wings”
Absolutely amazing, I didn’t want it to end.