Twas the Twelth night before Christmas

Delia is making Christmas special with her hot oven and roasting pan, Jim’s looking for publicity pics for me on HIS computer, the cottage is 51 miles away and the last of the washing is in.
The daughter stayed, slept and went East, leaving a trail of adolescent detritus behind her.
I’m eating dried, white mulberry’s and looking forward to the last ‘X Factor’, it’s the need to see it come to a conclusion. Can’t bare the song choices, can’t bare the ethos but I need to know who’s going to have their lives ruined by Mr. Cowell. Saturday night is such a mission what with that and ‘Strictly come Chancing’
Last full week before Noel and no I haven’t got anyone anything yet. It’ll be a festive time but with limited gift giving as we’re all skint.
Delia’s stirring in the butter at the moment adding bread crumbs and Parmisan Cheese. I don’t like cheesy straws. I don’t like cheesy television and I don’t like cheesy music. I’m turning Mrs. Norwich City off as the incidental music has just turned into elavator musac.
I had my eyes tested yesterday.
Thank Fobless I cah seep perfithgy well noq.

1 thought on “Twas the Twelth night before Christmas”

  1. Jeni dear, it is certainly a relief that the X Factor is over (Quite frankly, one was growing tired of reviewing it each week) but at least one’s little South Shields stud-muffin Joe was victorious!
    One is quite concerned, also, at how his life will be destroyed by Mr. Cowell but, then again, not even Simon would dare tempt the wrath of the Geordie region!
    May you and yours have a wonderful Christmas and a 2010 fill with love, joy and laughter.

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