Mango chutney
Oh dear. My photographer appears to have gone missing.
Instead, I am presented with a 41 year old corpse, closely disguised as my dearest hubby. He has done a 72 hour week, and spent his only day off cleaning out the pool (full of leaves after the recent storms, and pretty grim I can tell you), printing out and posting the remaining two A3 prints to all the models he has shot with this year (as a kind of Christmas pressie, and can you believe that only one model took the time to say thanks so far…much appreciated Meg!), and finally spent four hours putting up the dreaded Christmas decorations, which was way more stressful an experience than it should have been, courtesy of three hyperactive and overly-enthusiastic children.
Our decorating is a Christmas tradition.
We adorn the living room, the hall and in the boys’ bedrooms.
To the tune of our amazingly naff Christmas CD, my older son now has a glaringly tacky fibre-optic Christmas tree, ten tons of baubles and Way Too Much Tinsel in his bedroom. And my younger son has pretty fairy lights, the second ton of tinsel, a blow-up Santa Claus and a rather fetching but odd reindeer-antler Headband, which I actually volunteered to wear nude with bondage rope after the third glass of Sherry.
Plus, it’s official. My two year-old daughter LOVES Christmas. She is going to spend the next three weeks re-decorating the Christmas tree and playing “Fostie the no-man” (as opposed to “Frostie the snowman”, which she can’t pronounce) on her brother’s CD player in his bedroom, and “dancing” ie. furiously jumping up and down like a baby elephant, dressed entirely in pink with co-ordinating reindeer antlers and pink tinsel…
As for me, well I did kind of (literally) bottle out of the decorations initially. Richard does like his decorations very tastefully done, and I don’t do tasteful, I’m afraid.
Instead, I decided to make the mother-in-law some Mango Chutney (which she apparently loves) so I concocted a lethal brew which resulted in the consumption of an entire bottle of wine and sherry (half for the Chutney, half for me & Rich) and a particularly evil-smelling orange goo which did Not Smell Christmassy and which made the house reek of vinegar for the rest of the day. Not nice, despite the alcoholic content (which I don't normally partake of by the way, but today was an exception).
By the time the Evil Orange Chutney was done, I was sufficiently hammered not to care about Christmas and I was happily able to slump on the sofa and fuzzily watch my kids hanging baubles on the tree whilst Rich (resplendent in traditional Santa Claus hat) could cuddle me whilst chatting happily about his next idea for a shoot early next year. Not sure the cuddle and the 34DD model conversation go together, but it’s amazing what fun you can have chatting about Art with your husband whilst mildly drunk.
Yes, I finally found the spirit of Christmas. It was at the bottom of a bottle of Sherry all along. Such a shame I didn’t realise it earlier.
Instead, I am presented with a 41 year old corpse, closely disguised as my dearest hubby. He has done a 72 hour week, and spent his only day off cleaning out the pool (full of leaves after the recent storms, and pretty grim I can tell you), printing out and posting the remaining two A3 prints to all the models he has shot with this year (as a kind of Christmas pressie, and can you believe that only one model took the time to say thanks so far…much appreciated Meg!), and finally spent four hours putting up the dreaded Christmas decorations, which was way more stressful an experience than it should have been, courtesy of three hyperactive and overly-enthusiastic children.
Our decorating is a Christmas tradition.
We adorn the living room, the hall and in the boys’ bedrooms.
To the tune of our amazingly naff Christmas CD, my older son now has a glaringly tacky fibre-optic Christmas tree, ten tons of baubles and Way Too Much Tinsel in his bedroom. And my younger son has pretty fairy lights, the second ton of tinsel, a blow-up Santa Claus and a rather fetching but odd reindeer-antler Headband, which I actually volunteered to wear nude with bondage rope after the third glass of Sherry.
Plus, it’s official. My two year-old daughter LOVES Christmas. She is going to spend the next three weeks re-decorating the Christmas tree and playing “Fostie the no-man” (as opposed to “Frostie the snowman”, which she can’t pronounce) on her brother’s CD player in his bedroom, and “dancing” ie. furiously jumping up and down like a baby elephant, dressed entirely in pink with co-ordinating reindeer antlers and pink tinsel…
As for me, well I did kind of (literally) bottle out of the decorations initially. Richard does like his decorations very tastefully done, and I don’t do tasteful, I’m afraid.
Instead, I decided to make the mother-in-law some Mango Chutney (which she apparently loves) so I concocted a lethal brew which resulted in the consumption of an entire bottle of wine and sherry (half for the Chutney, half for me & Rich) and a particularly evil-smelling orange goo which did Not Smell Christmassy and which made the house reek of vinegar for the rest of the day. Not nice, despite the alcoholic content (which I don't normally partake of by the way, but today was an exception).
By the time the Evil Orange Chutney was done, I was sufficiently hammered not to care about Christmas and I was happily able to slump on the sofa and fuzzily watch my kids hanging baubles on the tree whilst Rich (resplendent in traditional Santa Claus hat) could cuddle me whilst chatting happily about his next idea for a shoot early next year. Not sure the cuddle and the 34DD model conversation go together, but it’s amazing what fun you can have chatting about Art with your husband whilst mildly drunk.
Yes, I finally found the spirit of Christmas. It was at the bottom of a bottle of Sherry all along. Such a shame I didn’t realise it earlier.
posted by Lin at 7:09 PM
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