CHRISTMAS SHOPPING IN TOWN. DEATH TO A MARRIAGE.

Here in the land of Q we’re a bit late getting into the spirit of Christmas. Not because we’re Grinches, but because we’ve been rather consumed of late and because the weather BLOWS. 

If it’s going to be a cold Christmas I expect it is because I am in the northern hemisphere drinking eggnog and wearing enough layers to hide the eggnog that has stuck to my waist and thighs. I do not expect Christmas in a semi-hot, mostly cool, perpetually damp environment where no one can decide if they want to drink a margarita or a rum toddy.

So as the agenda was rather free today, we decided to jump a bus into town and join the festivities. Really get amongst it. Throw ourselves in the elfish deep end as it were.

This is how things went:

·               Q woke up really early, meaning that she wants to take her 1 nap at about 9am, which is not ideal because it is then a long, slow, agonising ride until bedtime that night. If you choose to try to delay sleep – as we did – you pay for it with the whinge. It just depends if you want that whinge from 9-12 or from 11-8. I prefer the former for obvious reasons.

·               We left half an hour later than planned and G heads for the bus stop that is only local stops, so we watch 3 express buses sail past before heading to the other bus stop where I realise…

·               G hadn’t brought the gift he needed to return because he’d bought the wrong thing, with him.

·               G returns to house.

·               Without keys.

·               G returns to the bus stop and we realise he doesn’t have enough rides left on his travel ten.

·               I go to the newsagency to get another pass while G returns to the house with my keys to get the gift.

·               We leave Q at the bus stop.

·               Just kidding.

·               We get on a bus whose breaks screech and whose tires skid every time the driver slows down. We begin to doubt our survival until Christmas in the first place.

·               Every man and his dog, aunt, cousin, spouse and CHILD is in town and as you walk past people all you can hear is;

·               ‘why didn’t you tell me that in the first place?’

·               ‘what took you so long?’

·               ‘christmas is not just about you, you know.’

·               G goes to get us coffees while Q and I block traffic outside the diamond store in the Strand Arcade.

·               I should add that it is raining.

·               We do not have umbrellas.

·               We gather a few gifts interspersed with countless phone calls to our family to make sure we get the right thing. People can be very vague with their gift list.

·               Myself included. I asked for new bras because none of my non-breastfeeding ones fit, a terrible, horrible disaster that I don’t care to dwell on in this blog. I do not know my new size.

·               G tries not to swear as person after person does something stupid in front of him as he pushes Q through the throng.

·               Q has reached her limit, we head for the bus stop.

·               G realises he has lost his Amex card.

·               Is not successful in stopping his swearing in front of his child.

·               This annoys me and I head for the bus stop while G heads back to the shops to buy my gift.

·               With what card I do not know.

·               Q and I get home, (she has meanwhile yelled her disgust at still being in the pram the whole bus ride home) to discover that G still has my keys and so we can’t get in the front door.

·               Send G an urgent text since he’s not answering his phone. Odd since that thing is stuck to his ear most of the day. Q crawls on the wet, muddy ground and gets filthy.

·               G returns home.

·               I make a cup of tea.

·               And now I’m going to get my toes painted because I want to be decadent and spend money unnecessarily.

·               This has been the Christmas story Llewellyn/Hart style.

·               The end.