I am sitting here on a purple broken couch while Ned the Superbaby eats tomatoes and yabbers to himself. We have been at school all morning, hand-sewing Angel dresses and hot-glue-gunning star hats for the Nativity Play dress rehearsal this afternoon, in front of an audience including the local elderly and 60 four year olds. THE PRESSURE! Ned didn’t actually do any of the hot-glue-gunning or hand-sewing, as he was too busy shouting that he wanted to go home and that everyone was an “Idiot Bum Head“. He shames me.
Meanwhile, I am suffering from a persistent flicky eyelid and the vague uneasy feeling that I haven’t bought enough Christmas presents for all of the support teachers and teachers assistants at the school. Because new ones keep appearing, or the kids mention someone I have never seen, but whom they swear they see every day for science/drumming/rhythmic gymnastics lessons, etc. It is so tiring. Yesterday I dropped the presents off and I swear I got blanked by the three-days-a-week-teachers-assistant-guy on the way out of the gate. So today he, the poor bugger, is getting regifted vodka chocolates that were given to us. This Christmas present gig is a giant karmic circle of rewrapping and recycling and eventual disappointment, especially if you are the three-days-a-week-guy.
Anyway, Christmas. We are off to a cottage in Devon to go swimming and sit in the hot tub. It all sounds lovely except the children are a bit annoying and my poor husband may find a week in close quarters with them a little bit heart-attack-inducing. I really hope not, because as we know I am a source of zero income and so if he keels over, we shall be in dire straits. So we have to manage the week by keeping everyone happy and everyone alive, heart rates at a sustainable and healthy level, children run like dogs, sugar levels sensibly maintained, lots of swimming and hopefully lots of pubs with playgrounds. I plan to rug the children up and push them outside. I like a physically exhausted kid, me. Warm and rested – meh! overrated.
TALLY OF REPORTABLE THINGS
Famous People Spotted This Month:
Tom Parker Bowles
Donna Wallace from Elle magazine
Tolkien Hobbits/Dwarves I Have Either Followed Around One Night When I was Student Or Who Still Owe Mark Money For Renovating Their Flats:
Successes include a Miu Miu tunic for £23, a Karen Walker leather jacket for £25, Miu Miu studded stilettoed boots for £145 (beautiful), sales of a dress, two jackets and a shirt that netted me £190.
Failures include those Miu Miu studded stilettoed boots (too high, the zip broke and my fingers bled during the futile zipping effort), a Miu Miu jacket I sold to a woman in South Korea who wants to return it because she says it has faint brown spots on it, and an odd Marc Jacobs blazer that makes me look like Meryl Streep in Out Of Africa (not in a good way, either).
All in all, I think it’s fair to say I lose more than I win, but I CANNOT STOP. Ahem.
Here is a photo of the boots, minus the bleeding fingers:
See below evidence of an extended Santa vista through the pine forest, beginning with a visit to the Elf at the Wishing Tree, and ending with a log cabin and a properly robed Santa with a sense of humour:
Average Kilometers Run Per Week:
Only one. This was a grave mistake, thinking they could ‘share’ a Playmobil one. Oh how I have longed for the days of Christmas past when they all had a Cadbury one each to rip into. This taking turns gig is ridiculous, and is resulting in far too many tears and miscalculating of dates. The Playmobil nativity scene is fantastic however, even though Baby Jesus always gets caught up in the crochet blanket covering the purple broken couch.
Where’s The Baby Jesus?
Somewhere in the rug holes.
Sample Sales Attended:
Erdem (one dress, one shirt for me)
Alexander McQueen (nothing for me, but Sue got some excellent jeans which unfortunately turn her legs a shade of indigo)
Christopher Kane (one cashmere hat, one cashmere scarf for Mark for Christmas made in the same Scottish mill that Chanel use – a fact perhaps a little bit lost on the intended recipient)
No change there, then. And still my eyelid involuntarily morphs and wriggles around.
More pics from the family most recently described as “a bit wild”:
New glasses. Note how my very strong prescription renders my eyes and face absurdly shrunken:
Frozen camels at Whipsnade Zoo
Children behaving perfectly calmly and unwieldily at Whiteleys, testing toys in a well-behaved manner. SUCK ON THAT, HATERS!
Ahem. Apologies. My spastic eyelid, myself and Ned are off to pick up the boys from school. I shall write more soon, I promise.