Saturday, 8 December 2007
The bah humbug traitor
I had decided to hold out against all the Christmas jollification and stuff after all. Too much fuss. Don't like fuss. Bah humbug to fuss. I grrred and growled and told her ladyship that there would be none of that nonsense here. We would do a bit of low key solstice celebrating - maybe hug a small fir tree when no one was looking - but bah humbug to tinsel and glittery things and fairy lights and getting all jolly and jingly.
And then. Shhhhhh. Promise me that you won't tell anyone I said this. Ok. Oh, the shame ...
Yesterday Madame received her parcel full of Wainwright does Judy Garland and she was listening to it last night. Over and over again obviously. I naturally attempted to hide and to block my ears with cushions. But. Half way through The Trolley Song - yes, The Trolley Song - I started to feel all - I think it's called happy. I danced. Bear does Rufus does Judy. Don't you make that face at me. I know. I know. And it could happen to you.
And I woke up this morning with a great need for Crimbo nonsense. I want snowmens and reindeers and fake snow and - no, not santas - Madame is santaphobic - holly and mistletoe and - do I want egg nog? what is egg nog? - maybe egg nog.
But first I'm going to Mr Flynn's birthday party. He's 2 today. Hurrah for Mr Flynn! He does lots of running about and making noise and he's brill!