It was good to spend
yestterday evening visiting the fruits on my loin in their own homes.
And I do like the fact that they have (mostly) flown the nest.
But the house was strangely empty this morning as I got up. Intending
to foster a bit of Christmas spirit I put the festive collar onto
"Furry Face TM". This didn't
foster any Christmas spirit at all. For all that he looks really good
in his Christmmas collar, he hates it, and he went into a serious
sulk. I could have cut the atmosphere with a knife.
Two hours later er
indoors TM" got up. I wish I could sleep
as long as everyone else does. We did pressies; I got a decent haul,
So did "Furry Face TM"; and made
short work of his new toys.
We set off to my
brother's for Christmas. Far too much was scoffed and drunk; I dozed
for much of the afternoon. It was all rather vague, but I came to on
the way home. As we came home "My Boy TM"
messaged - as the taxi firm were reckoning on a two hour wait could
he get a lift home from his mummy.
Once er indoors TM"
had done taxi-ing we settled down for a scampi supper and watched
the Christmas Doctor Who before everyone else told us all about it.
And having seen it I shall tell the world that...
... I won't give the plot
away for the simple reason that I have no idea what was going on. In
the old days there was baddies and Doctor Who defeated them. A simple
plot worked. The convuloted stories that the scriptwriters trot out
nowadays are needlessly complicated.
But Matt Smith has now
gone and the new bloke has taken over. Let's see what he's like
before I rubbish him too...
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