Stop using the C word!

No, I don’t mean that one. Although,  don’t use that one either. What I am attempting to say is that I don’t care how many sleeps it is til Christmas. Put your Elf firmly on the Shelf. Holidays are coming later (it’s not later). And if you try decking my halls, I shall firmly deck yours.


(I know it’s 2015)

I am looking forward to the actual day. This year promises to be a chilled out, Onesie wearing festival of inappropriate giggling. It’s being hosted by my sister-in-law and brother-in-law so we’ll be surrounded by good people  (and lots of whom have whacky dietary requirements that make me look normal).

I’m just a bit anti this year as the idea of all the preparations are a bit overwhelming. Shopping with no spoons is daunting and the idea of going into crowded places, trying to get into inaccessible shops where people’s elbows are at face height is enough to make me go a bit bah humbug. So I’m putting it off until I’ve finished all the DWP paperwork  (Seriously,  nothing shouts ding done merrily on high as a disability assessment form).


Give me a few more weeks and confirmation that mince pies won’t make me hurl or cause my stomach to burn my oesophagus like a really ineffectual branding exercise.

Until then…



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