There were some 'issues' to get over on our journey- the train was trapped behind a broken-down penderillo for a whole hour and had to do the trainial equivalent of the three point turn just outside Milton Keynes. I could see where they were coming from on that one. I always end up going the wrong way round Milton Keynes myself, it's a maze. Train man went 'bing bong' and announced all was well - however, because the train was now running late, on a very cold Christmas eve- and because said train was full of lovable grannies with armfuls of home-made candy, jolly vicars chuckling over their Christmas sermons and doe-eyed children yearning to be tucked up ready for Santa- they had decided to dump us all out at Stafford. In the snow. Then tell us we probably wouldn't get another train as they were all full. Luckily, we did manage to squeeze onto another reasonably timed train. The Grannies put up a good fight but I distracted them with a jar of shop-bought mincemeat and dived on as they tsked. And on to Liverpool! Where... the local lines to the coast were even worse. Net result: taxi of doom! 45 minutes in an unheated taxi with the window open (!!) driving over solid ice. At least the view was pretty.
|Silent but deadly. Like his Lordship after Brussels sprouts.|
Anyway, we got there safe and sound, and with my reserve wardrobe intact (many, many, big woolly jumpers and a pair of novelty socks). Best of all, my overtly Russian-winter style outerwear (furry cossack hat, fur collared coat, biiig black boots and gold embroidered decadent bourgeois granny handbag) looked not only appropriate but sensible- and that's the first and last time that will happen! Twas all good!
|These aren't lights, they're real ice|
But what did come to pass was a jolly good chilly Chrimbo, here are some highlights (including a rare shot of His Lordship in his natural habitat)...
You know how it is, the fridge is chock-full of turkey and you've got your cider guzzling daughter in law coming round. Nature will find a way. (Note: three of the five people in the household drink cider, and it was a long weekend. I have never downed 3 bottles on Christmas day- that would be daft. I wouldn't have room for wine or whisky).
That's better. Mr and Mrs Claus on my feet and wine in my hand!
...and there's the wine and cheese. Om. Nom. Nom. And His Lordship was fairly skipping with excitement (he's not even wearing his tie and waistcoat: festive indeed):
And I stayed sober as a judge, drinking only coffee, I think you'll find...
|It says coffee, it is coffee, M'kay?|