Bah Humbug.

First I took a homeopathic remedy. Then after a pause I sucked a Strepsil then after a pause I drunk a Lemsip then after a pause I rubbed something with Olbas oil in on my chest.
Then I started all over again.
At 19.00 hours, when ‘Strictly’ had just begun I lay my hands on a piece of paper with a facsimile of Seka Nikolic’s hands on, meditated until after the first dance, and when my hands were really hot and my chest didn’t feel quite so crusty I blew out my three candles.

In between my dosages the old git and me got wrapped up like Mallory climbing Everest.
LOZZIE, my roomie, screamed ‘Wrap Up’ in the way that only an Irish or Jewish mother can scream.
So I put on; underwear, t-shirt, sweater, anorak, hat, scarf, two pairs of sox, Wellington boots, gloves and the heaviest fake fur lined Parker fit for a 21 year old mugger.
He had on a Russian style fur hat, an over-the top waterproof, a jacket, a scarf, and whatever else a Northerner wears under sensible trousers. His boots were fit for purpose.
The two intrepid pensioners set off to CJ, as I’m now informed Clapham Junction is called. At least that’s what the Christmas lights display. They clearly ran out of money for the ‘Lapham Unction’ bit.
We walked on the crunchy snow, leaves settling on top of little hillocks of minus three frozen water. We walked through the market off Battersea Square and bought a bowl of avocados for 2 quid, a bowl of oinions for a ‘pand’ and three bunches of spinach from the dyslexic constermonger who called me love and recommended that I had a luvverly Christmas.
Up to CJ and the Northcott Road, which was packed with several other people looking as daft as we did. Overcoats, Anoraks, Fur coats, boots, brollies, bags. It was like St. Petersburg on SALE day.
I wasn’t feeling great.
This morning I woke up to Radio 4 and ‘Broadcasting House’, one of my favourite programmes. The ‘oosbind brought me in a bowl of porridge and the rack of spices because he had on man goggles and could not find the cinnamon jar. IT WAS RIGHT ON THE TOP….
My chest is a lot easier today. So I’m only taking my homeopathic remedy and Lempsip when I remember. I defrosted Chicken soup and am drinking mugfuls of Jewish Penicillin in between snacking on at least two little avocados regularly for the Vitamin ‘E’- well I’ve got hundreds of ’em for two quid….
This time I put on tights, socks, wooly trousers, a thermal vest, the wooly top to go with the wooly trousers, a yellow Abercrombie and Fitch anorak and my little black duvet jacket. It leaves feathers on my hair and clothes so I look like a plucked eider when I put it down.
The old man left off his waterproof, and instead of turning right we went left over Battersea Bridge, grey and slushy, and onto the Kings Road which was full of defrosted paving stones and frosty Sloaneys.
Right down to the end and John Lewis for him to buy me my present, which is exactly what I wanted. He urged me to open it now but I refused. I will open it up on Christmas Day and feign surprise.
A bit of this and a bit of that for everybody else and finally we trudged back to the flat, this time over The Albert Bridge, which is under wraps for the near future. No snow at all. A good clear walk in the road to the flat and then into a whoosh of warm air as we opened the door.
I have disrobed but left on my wooly two piece.
I am now going to wrap presents then do some work.
I really want to be in my own home, however much I love the flat, but I have a meeting on Tuesday and the old Git doesn’t finish till Thursday so, weather willing, we will drive down Thursday night and put up the tree with one day to go. The possibility of our guests not being able to make it from Germany and Devon means that Christmas may or may not be a rowdy affair. I shall, however, make a big log fire, bung on some music and wait for Father Christmas to arrive down our sooty chimney.
And if the present that Father Christmas found in John Lewis is not exactly what I want I shall ask Rudolph to take it back on his sledge, all assuming that the moose has kept the receipt….
I’m off now to make a big salad and find the Sellotape and scissors. It’s a bleedin’ good job that Christmas does only come once a year as my wrapping skills are definitely to be sneezed at, although after all my medication I haven’t sneezed at all…
Jim has just said; ‘It’s nice having snow on the terrace.’ So called because Lozzie says the balcony is too big for a balcony, too small for a patio but just the right size for a terrace, so terrace it is.
She’ll have to go….Bah Humbug….