Tag Archives: christmas tree


Well, Boofuls Towers has been a hive of Christmas activity – except for me that is, I’ve been sitting around and being waited on hand hand and foot, occasionally going out on my disability scooter and generally lolling about.

Most of the Christmas decorating has come down to Lashes, and she has done a very good job of it. She has decorated the tree in our reception area and also trimmed up the dining room beautifully. Of course, those being the guest areas, that all has to be tastefully done and not necessarily what we would choose for ourselves.

As Munki won’t be with us for this year, due to the fact that she is spending Christmas with her dad ‘oop north’ Lashes decided that she wouldn’t bother with a tree in her living room.  Not worth it if there are no kids about. Instead she thought she would decorate my living room Christmas tree. Being incapacitated I wasn’t really in a state to argue much about it. Until, that is, she told me it would be decorated in her trademark, Alice in Wonderland style.

Pretty as that is, it reflects her personality, not mine so I drew the line. It’s mine and Booful’s living space and we have to look at it all day, every day so we have to like it.  She uses our living room only to walk through on her way outside for a cigarette.   I refused to let her decorate my tree in her style, however, I compromised and said I would be happy to have  a multi coloured tree. She threw a strop. Well, bugger you then, I’ll do it myself, I thought. If you want a tree in your style then ut it in your room.

Spirit of goodwill and all that, I set about decorating the tree in the foulest of moods.

Not able to do the whole thing in one go, it atually took me three days. Three days of mess, decorations strewn all over the floor, piles of working and non working fairy lights and  general Christmas detritus. I hate mess, nothing will depress me quicker than mess. Not the best start to Christmas. I persevered though and eventually I ended up with a  multicoloured tree the like of which I haven’t done since the kids were small. Multi coloured lights mingle with multi coloured baubles,  topped with a grinning  Christmas snowman.  It couldn’t be further from my usual style of decorating if I tried.

I love it!

Even Lashes, after getting in one or two snide remarks about me having ‘promised’  to let her do it her way (I didn’t)   had to concede that it looks lovely.

Bizarrely, after all the fuss she eventually looked at the tree and piped up. “Yes, it’s very pretty but I have to admit, there is something very nice about a beautifully ordered, single colour, grown up Christmas tree. ” Whaaaaaaat? She’s been complaining at me for years that my trees are boring and now she’s telling me that that is what she likes!

Ever since Lashes reached adulthood we have differed in our views of how to trim up. Now we live in the same house it has become more difficult with each of us wanting it done in our own way. Isn’t it funny how protective people get about their trees? I like it my way, she likes it her way and never the twain shall meet.

The one thing that we do all agree on though is that we are going to make the most of having a child free  Christmas. It’s going to be odd with just the three of us here but we have stocked up on lovely goodies to eat and drink, lined up a selection of great telly to watch and  we are generally going to  relax and just please ourselves.

Whatever you are doing this Christmas I hope you have the best of times and the happiest, wealthiest but most importantly, the healthiest of New Years.

Happy Christmas!

 

 

 

 

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Merry Christmas


http://instagram.com/p/xBarlBPmvg/ Merry Christmas to all my bloggy friends.

I’m having a quiet five minutes before the day starts. Douggie the doggie seems to have caught the spirit of Christmas and wants to open all the presents under the tree. In a few minutes I’ll be taking him out for a walk and then it’s all systems go! Bezzie mates first and then a day of fun filled festive madness, followed by and evening of Downton Abbey and turkey butties.

Whatever you’re doing I hope you have a wonderful day.

Merry Christmas.

Ho Ho Oh!


Hello? Complaints Department?  You haven’t posted a blog for 11 days. That’s EL-E-VEN whole days.

Get to it!

Crap. Eleven days? Well. In my defence……. *begins a long list of excuses and whining*

It would appear I’ve gone form a moderately successful wedding photographer to a stonkingly good baby photographer. I’ve got orders spewing  out of every orifice at the moment. Working till stupid o’clock every night just to try and keep up with it all.

While we’re on the subject of spewing ( I know! I can hear you saying it, “Just leave that one right there, Lesley. Just put the subject down and step away from it”).

Sorry. Can’t.

Munki started it all off. Grey faced and wan she shook, shat and projectile vomited while they tried to put up the Christmas tree. It kind of takes the fun out of it ( the trimming up, not the vomiting) . Singing along to Deck the halls with boughs of *bluerggghghghghgh*.  The poor little  mite wished on a star that she could never be sick again.

Then she passed the bug on to Lashes. Not to say she was illl or anything but she lost ten pounds in a week. Oh well, they do say every cloud has a silver lining and there it is!

Lashes then passed the bug on to Boofuls.  The less said the better, I feel.

I went into full on germ phobia mode. Nary a door handle was touched without me disinfecting it first. Kisses were  blown from across the room and cuddles were straight out of the window. I haven’t got time to be bloody ill!

I was dispatched to the chemist’s for remedies. It reminded me of my friend, who, when we were on holiday and I was ill, walked into the chemist and said loudly as she pointed to me ” WHAT HAVE YOU GOT FOR MY FRIEND?SHE’S GOT THE SHITS?” The shame!!!

I chose to take a lower key approach although my mission was the same. I slipped quietly into the chemist’s and enquired discreetly as to suitable remedies for Lashes’ predicament so as not to attract the attention of the  family of four waiting who were waiting there for a taxi.

Yes, really. I thought it was a bit odd but then I had to remind myself that this is Dingleville and anything goes. They obviously thought as I pulled up outside in my car that I was the taxi and glowered angrily at me when they realised I wasn’t. Intimidating, much.

I was asking the pharmacist  advice on the best way to stop, er, emissions when a woman walked in, barged past everyone, threw a Christmas card onto the counter from a distance and snarled ‘Merry Christmas’ in a voice that suggested she’d rather be saying, ‘fall down and die, bitch’. Then she turned on her heel and stropped out.

The pharmacist and I looked at each other shocked  until I said, “and a merry Christmas to you too.” At which point we started to giggle.  When the pharmacist told me that the woman who delivered the card had done  so on behalf of the local church I  giggled some more at the irony of it all, then I laughed till I cried. Tears streamed down my face. The family of four waiting for the taxi looked at me warily, obviously thinking I was an escaped lunatic. I left the chemist’s still laughing, clutching my various potions for delivery to Lashes. It kept me going all day, that did.

Last weekend I had a full list of appointments booked at the studio. The trouble was I was feeling a bit like Old Mother Hubbard but just couldn’t find the time to go shopping and I was getting mightily fed up of living on sandwiches.  Boofuls offered to do the weekly shop. Reluctantly I agreed to let him do it. It’s not that I don’t trust him but we can’t just live on bread, ham, wine and chocolate. I’d give it  fair go though. Anyway, he hopped off to Sainsbury’s while I talked doting Mums through their sprogs photos. 

Bless him, he tried, he really did. I could tell by the contents of the shopping bags that he’d tried to shop like I do. I could almost see him thinking, ‘she always buys fruit……and vegetables so we’ll have some of them’. ‘Some’ in this instance meaning enough to keep a whole zooful of animals in fruit and veg for an entire month. Dear Lord, there’ll be no shortage of vitamins in this house for a while! The rest of the shopping basket was  bread, wine, ham and chocolate.

Here I am holding my two huge melons. Lovely melons, eh? Teeheheee.

Copyright

Munki and I were in the woods today taking Douggie for a walk. There’s a tree in the woods that locals have decorated with baubles. I put one on this morning in memory of my dear old Mum, she loved Christmas. Munki wanted to put one on as well so we went this afternoon.  She wanted me to lift her up so she could put it on one of the highest branches but we negotiated and we settled for one of the child height branches instead. Here’s my bauble. Green because Mum always told me that heaven was green.

green christmas bauble

And here is Munki next to her bauble. Pink because Mum loved pink.

pink bauble

And the tree in it’s entirety with it’s ‘stripe’ of baubles.

christmas tree and dog

Right. That’s enough gossip for now. Tonight’s appointment has cancelled which means that Boofuls, Douggie and me get to spent (almost ) a whole evening together. I just have a few small jobs to do first…..

Onions and Roses


It’s been a long while since I did an onions and roses.

Firstly, I award a lovely big bunch of  roses to the chap at a company called Printed Wardrobe for being friendly and helpful way over and above the call of duty.

I’d ordered a tee shirt wearing teddy bear. The idea is that you personalise the tee shirt so I’d picked  a photo of Munki to go on it and the words ‘Munki Bear’. When the bear arrived the tee shirt had the words on it but so teeny tiny I needed a magnifying glass to read them and the photo was non existent.

One email later and the lovely Olly took over.  I’d explained the bear was lovely but the shirt was wrong, could I please have another tee shirt.  He said he’d organise another shirt and he’d upload it and basically redo the whole order for me to make sure it was correct. The very next day my replacement arrived. That’s impressive!

Many, many thanks to Olly at Printed Wardrobe for being a star!

Great big stinking onions go to a bridezilla I seem to have picked up – or rather I should say  bridezilla and  dadzilla. She came to view her photos and LOVED them. Right at the end of the viewing session, as she wiped away the tears of joy, she suddenly blurted out. “There’s only 500 here. Where’s the rest?”  I explained (as I had at our pre wedding meeting) that we shoot loads, take out the winkers, blinkers, stinkers and duplicates. and edit to the best 500 – and personally I think 500 is more than enough for anyone’s wedding ( I didn’t actually voice that last bit). She’s now on a mission to bully me into handing over the rejects, aided and abetted by her dad. I’m losing sleep over this pair and it’s starting to seriously piss me off. We did  a cracking job at her wedding and now her she and her dad are trying to find faults that don’t exist and I’m  have to justify every decision I’ve made. She’s in great danger of  making herself dislike her own wedding photos by trying to find faults in order to back me into a corner and release rejects.

I was hoping to make a sample album from that wedding  (yup, it’s that good )  but I can hardly bear to even look at the pictures now. The husband, incidentally, is very happy with everything.  Why don’t I release the rejects? They’re rejects, ’nuff said.

Moving on before I start ranting:

Lashes decided it was time to buy a Christmas tree. Off we trotted way out into the countryside to our favourite wood yard in lovely thick falling snow. Great big fat flakes of snow fell on us as we walked round the rows of trees listening to Christmas music. The atmosphere was jolly and everyone was friendly and smily. All the trees were covered in snow, it could have been a scene from a film, it was all so perfect.  The scenery on the way home couldn’t have been more like a Christmas card it if had tried. That was one of the nicest hours I’ve spent all year.

On the way there Gembolina texted me to ask if I’d like to pop round for a coffee. I quickly sent back, “No, I’m off with Lashes to buy a Christmas tree.” The phone bleeped again.

“Get that for me will you, Lashes.”

It read, ‘That might hurt your head.’

“What”

Lashes scrolled through the whole message and immediately burst out laughing.

Bloody predictive text.

It seems that when I’d put ‘I’m off to buy a Christmas tree’,  predictive text had changed it without me noticing to, ‘I’m off to nut a Christmas tree.’

Hahaaaaaaaaaa!!! I laughed so much that I had to stop the car, I couldn’t see through the tears pouring down my face and  my lungs were on the point of collapse as I couldn’t  take a breath through the guffawing. It’s a good job I was wearing a seatbelt or it would definitely be a case of ROFL.

Just in case you don’t know. To nut something is to headbutt it.

Dance teacher: No change, still in ICU.

Christmas Eve


So, here it is, Christmas Eve.

Actually,  7.00 a.m. on Christmas Eve.

Is it the excitement of the big day tomorrow or the thought of all the work I have to get through between now and then to make the magic happen for the family that has driven me out of my bed at such a stupidly early hour when I’m not working or could it something a bit more mundane? Something like, for instance, the snore meister driving out of my warm, comfy bed once again?

Yup. You got it in one. It’s the snore meister striking again. I could have done a bit of striking of my own but decided that it wouldn’t be good for marital harmony. No amount of bellowing “SHUDDUP!” in his ear or poking him with a sharp elbow made any difference so I got up to chat with you instead.

I’m feeling a bit cheated in the Christmas tree department this year. The tree we got is undoubtedly very beautiful, bedecked as it is in all it’s finery. It isn’t a hump backed tree or suffering from any kind of male pattern baldness, it doesn’t lean awkwardly and is beautifully proportioned, it isn’t stunted in height nor does it go in for streaking by shedding all it’s needles every time everyone looks at it the wrong way.

Sounds like a perfectly well behaved, polite and well brought up tree, doesn’t it.  It just has the one MAJOR fault.

It smells of………..nothing.

Where’s the gorgeous evocative christmas tree smell that fills me with nostalgia and makes my tum tickle with excitement at the thought of Christmas being just a few days away? There isn’t even a whiff of it. Before you ask. No. I didn’t buy a fake tree by mistake.  I know there are some very good ones around but even I’m not that stupid, stressful as it’s been over the last week or two.

Am I?  I’d better go and check. No. It’s definitely real!

I may have to go and squirt toilet cleaner all over it to make it smell of pine and then tie a few cinnamon sticks to it for added depth and then get a dog or two to pee up it for the finishing touches.

My poor posh cat has had a time of it this last week or two.

Firstly, I set about him with a grooming brush and clippers a couple of weeks ago.  Every winter his fur gets matted but this year it was worse than normal so I ended up clipping huge great rugs from each side of him. I’ve since been seen down the local market hawking thses rugs since his fur is as lovely and soft as pashmina. I got a good price for them as well, I can tell you. Great lumps of cat fur are now gracing the doorsteps of local gentry.  I’ve also been selling the fur that I’ve extracted as I’ve combed him to local gypsies who have been sending it to the gnome down the road to weave  into a tapestry for the forthcoming royal wedding. (I’ve been watching too many pantomimes!).

What? Don’t believe me? You don’t think one cat can possibly have had that much fur removed? Well just take a look:

One very Pi55ed off cat

So apart from the shame of being shaved and sporting a very trendy (if I say so myself) mohican. The poor creature has since developed a problem with his ear. I noticed it the other night when he sat under the Christmas tree crying. I thought he was crying because it had no scent and he felt a bit cheated but it turned out he was crying because a lump the size of a grape had appeared in his ear and was clearly causing him great distress.

Off to the vet we popped. The cat had needles stuck into his ears and came out minus 10 mls of blood that they drained off his ear. I came out  minus the £60 they drained off me.  All’s well that end’s well, I hear you thinking.

But no, that would be far too simple. After risking losing my face administering the ear drops as I’d been instructed, I noticed the lump had returned.

Bloody hell!

Back to the vet’s we popped, this time with the cat growling ‘ you’re gonna pay for this, bitch’ under his breath at me all the way.

The vet stuck the needle in his ear again. And again. And again. All the while the cat looked at me malevolently, the threat of retribution in his eye as he held my gaze.  “We need a bigger syringe,” the vet announced. The cat’s legs buckled, as did mine. Poor kitty had a huge needle stuck in his ear followed by another one, this time injecting him with steroid.

Steroid! Don’t give him steriods!! He’ll be wrestling Great Danes to the ground with one paw!  Not to mention what he’s going to do to me when we get home!!

With instructions to give him yet more ear drops, this time in both ears, we were sent away once again, ear and wallet both stinging.

Unsurprisingly, the cat won’t come near me now. He sits on the landing,  kissing his steroid built muscles like a body builder and staring at me as if daring me to approach him. The ear drop game is developing into the sport of cat wrestling.  I think we may start to sell tickets soon. If I’m going to lose my face via the cat’s claws I may as well make some money out of it!

The snow and ice have resolutely stayed with us. As you already know, I love this weather. Not so much when it comes to driving on it but you can’t have everything.

Isn’t it funny how you develop new strategies and adapt behaviours as conditions change?

I used to get in my car and drive away. Easy.

Now I get in my car, sit sideways on the seat and clap my feet together like a seal for a minute or two. Not for the entertainment of passing strangers, or in the hope of getting the odd mackerel thrown to me, you understand. It’s to get rid of all the ice on my boots before I set off driving. One scare too many in the, ‘feet sliding off brake pedal’  department  soon taught me that strategy – and if I get the occasional mackerel as a result then that’s just a bonus, isn’t it?

Just to keep the winter theme going, here are a few more photos:

icy reservoir
winter walk
icy cobweb
icy leaf

And finally: Hasn’t Baby Bunting grown?

Baby Bunting