Slap my thigh and call me a tiger! I do believe I am getting there with the festive comsumer spending spree! Though two choice items I ordered from the states have not turned up yet. Curses. This means they probably won't now as they won't fit through the letter box and will have to be collected from the nearest post office sorting place A MILLION MILES away between the convenient times of 12.00pm and 12.01pm some other Saturday that isn't vaguely near a public holiday.
I think I may have gone a bit over the top. Fuckit. Everyone's had a rough year and it's Christmas. Breakout the cooking sherry, I say.
I now need to 'source' some kick-arse wrapping paper. Which reminds me - when I was a kid, I used to love Tony Robinson's Christmas Rapping record. It was so naff it was brilliant.
Right. Pub to go to. T'ra.
*or as Granny Boz would say, "seal-o-tape". She thinks it's the way the Queen would say it. As if Her Madge wraps her own. I think not...