Tag Archives: christmas gifts

What is it with men and boxes?


And men say women are unfathomable? Even after twenty six years of marriage I still can’t understand my husband’s total inability to throw away packaging.

One of his gifts from Father Christmas this year was a lovely sonic toothbrush to keep his recently whitened pearly whites bright enough to use as a torch on a dark night. I could see that he was completely underwhelmed by Santa’s generosity and the box has laid, unopened on the dressing table since the big day. Obviously he has no idea how much Santa forked out for this bit of electronic wizardry, over £100 it was and that was half price.

Fook! It’s only a toothbrush!!!

As he sauntered into the bedroom this morning prior to starting his morning ablutions ( Hubby, not Santa), I enquired scathingly as to whether the aforementioned toothbrush was going to sit on my dressing table unopened for the next two years before I finally give it away to a charity shop. “No, no, I’m going to use it right now,” he said as he scooped it up quickly and made a show of opening it.

After a brief discussion about the merits, or not, of  copious amounts of unnecessary packaging and ‘perceived value’, he popped the empty box into his wardrobe.

What? Memories of clearing out the hay loft in the stable  a couple of years ago swam into my hand. Boofuls had saved all manner of boxes. Boxes from just about anything we’d ever bought were up there. There were boxes inside boxes, big boxes, small boxes, boxes with padding, boxes with polystyrene inserts, boxes of all shapes and sizes all just waiting for that magical day. The ‘you never know when we’ll need one of those’ day.

“Did you just put that empty box in the wardrobe? Why, Boofuls, why would you do that?”

“It’s got the instructions in it.”

“It’s a toothbrush, Boofuls, How hard can it be?”

The box was duly removed from the wardrobe to be swiftly collapsed and shoved into the recycling bin by me and Boofuls  went to try out his new toothbrush.

Five minutes later he was back. “Look at this!!!”,  he cried excitedly as he flashed his pearly gnashers at me, “It’s amazing! I can’t believe what a diffentence it’s made!”

I felt a huge smile spread over my face, not a present fail after all then.

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HOW cold?!


Talk about a cold and frosty morning. Waking up this morning to discover that everything had turned even whiter due to a heavy frost, I went out in the car and it’s temperature gauge kindly informed me that it’s -9 degrees this morning. -9!  We don’t get temperatures like that, it’s positively arctic!

It is a very pretty -9 though so I took some photos for you, venturing out in my dressing gown and slippers which isn’t actually as bad as it sounds because it’s a fabulous crisp and still morning which not a single breath of wind. Thank God for that. Can you imaging how cold it would be if it was windy?

icy car

My poor car isn’t red any more, it’s turned white overnight.

icy sunrise

The sunrise was pretty.

a bit misty

Up our track it was a bit misty – and very, very icy. Boofuls managed to get his car out this morning for the first time in a week. I don’t know how because it’s solid ice up there.

Lashes, Len and Baby Bunting came up last night to see us. It’s inevitable, I know  that babies grow up but why do they have to do it so quickly?  Baby’s language skills are improving by the day and her version of certain  words she uses which have made me laugh so much  she’s finally learning to say properly. Scubees for instance. Any ideas what scubees might be?  No, it took me  awhile to work it out as well, it’s Baby speak for strawberries.  She’s getting the hang of it now and it’s evolved into strawbees.  Gangand, I noticed yetserday has evolved into grangrand and my all time favourite, anit (which is ‘elephant’ to you and me) is now a very recognisable, eyifant.  Just stay a baby a little while longer, I’m not ready for you to grow up yet.

Did I mention we got a call from the estate agent saying some people wanted to view our house – the next day?  That’s after the phone call saying, “Nothing will happen now till next year now. The market is completely dead and ‘specially for property like yours.’ Gee, thanks.

I took the call during a photo shoot and after a bit of to-ing and fro-ing the appointment was made. I’m glad it was so quick because the gardens are disgusting and in need of a lot of tlc,  at the moment they are all covered in snow so they look gorgeous. Ah, there’s nothing like covering up everything you don’t want on show  under a nice big blanket.

Anyway, they came, they saw, the like. He’s a farrier and since we are bang in the epicentre of equestrian Lancashire it seems like a good place for them. They also have five horses so our nice big field would be handy.  Fingers crossed. the words of that medium I went to see keep ringing in my ears: “You’ll move just before or just after Christmas.” Coincidence?

The smug, ‘I’m all ready for Christmas’ look was wiped off my face last night as I wrapped up the pressies. There a a few glaringly large holes that need plugging before I can really say I’m finished so it’s back to the shops for me, I’m afraid. Dagnabbit, I was so pleased with myself.

The pre Christmas workload keeps on increasing for me, Last night I picked up another job where they want the photos for Christmas presents and reprint orders keep on arriving. I’m not complaining but I could just have done with it being spread out a bit more.  The biggest issue is getting people back to  view at their proofs;

” Oh, I can come anytime love. Whenever suits you.”

“What about Tuesday evening?”

“No, I’m working 12 hour days all week so I can’t come till next weekend.”

*Thinks* So not ‘anytime’ at all then. “How about next Saturday then?”

There’s nowt so queer as folk.