Anyone seen a jolly fat man with a white beard?

T'was the night before the night before Christmas and all that could be heard was the beating heart of a woman locked in inner turmoil with the demons from Benson and Hedges.

Do I? don’t I?
I can hear her brain thinking from across the room.
Don’t do it! Go and have a bath, play Scrabble, or anything, just not THAT! - I shout from inside my head.

“Would you like a cup of tea sweetheart” I ask, then wait for a reply with baited breath.

Once again I can hear her thoughts “Go fuck yourself and your cup of fucking tea”

“Ok that would be good ta” she replies through gritted teeth.

“How about something to eat? You want a chocolate or something”

“Fuck you and take the fucking chocolate and shove it up your fucking fuck arse you fuck” – her thoughts are getting louder

“No thanks, tea is fine”

“Anything happening? Any exciting emails?” I enquire

“What the fuck do you care you nosey fucking twat, go fuck yourself an your sticky fuckin beak an shove it in someone else’s fucking business”

I sense from the severity of the language in her thoughts that I should leave her alone.

“No, nothing new or exciting, how’s the tea doing?”

---------------

This is of course complete fiction and the last 24hours in my house have been nothing like this. Mrs cV and I are in the throws of quitting the demon weed. I am so proud of her for not giving in and taking the easy option. I really think she can do it this time.


So, Christmas I really really very nearly upon us, it’s so near I can almost smell the stench of old pissed up men wearing santa hats and peeling sprouts.

Yesterday we took youngest to see Father Christmas at the garden centre. It truly was a magical experience for her, inside the grotto they even had twigs on the floor that crackled beneath your feet with lots of fairy lights and plastic snow all over the walls and mirrors.
Once inside, little cV had an attack of the shyness and got all silly with Santa, putting her hands over her mouth trying to explain to Santa what a rippety dreams house is (like I’m supposed to know). Bless poor Santa, he also looked as perplexed as I felt.

Good job mum was on hand to jump in and usher youngest into some semblance of normality.

“Well, I’ve heard you have been a good girl, you can choose whatever toy you want off my shelf”

Ok, plenty of toys here, all pretty groovy looking, and a really cool Guess who? game.

So littlun deliberated for about 2 minutes deciding what she wanted, so trying to use the ancient methods of Jedi mind control I try to convince her to take the Guess who? Game thinking of the hours of fun we could all have playing.

Now, I feel I have a gift for reading minds, pre empting & second guessing so I thought we’d have a chance of hitting the jackpot with the game.


As we got in into our car some 5 minutes later, I looked adoringly at my little girl clutching her bloody bastard stuffed tiger that she chose from Santa’s grotto.

Mind control eh, what a load of shit...

Have a good Christmas/Yuletide/Noel or whatever else it’s called.

Hi to brother in law 'bro'

Be Beautiful folks

cV