Just call me Des

Well hello, and welcome to the first really Christmassy day so far.

Had a right old grump on last night as I was up til all hours wrapping bleedin’ presents. And yet still I am not done. I woke up early, with the alarm, with every intention to go to the Saturday morning breakfast. But despite the spirit being willing, the flesh was weak and I let the radio play on and auto-off after 59-minutes. I still had to be at church for 9:30 anyway to do some cleaning, but the extra hour and a bit in bed made all the difference. I hope.

Made some rather great sandwiches today: steak*, rocket, mayo and horseraddish; and roasted green peppers with goat cheese. They were to take to Ben and Kate’s house for a get together where we were to swap presents (hence the mad wrap-fest) and each take a plate of food. So Ian and Nic and Eleanor, Buz and the ever-more-pregnant Clare, and Ben and Kate sat around for the afternoon eating, chatting and putting the world to rights. Harry and I played “Attack Alf”, Pokemon (which is a bit beyond me to be honest (must pay more attention next time)) and Star Wars.

Time passed and eventually we all left, with Ian and Nic AND Buz and Clare finding they’d been ticketted by the fucking traffic wardens (bunch of self-righteous piss-stinking maggot-cocked twunts that they are) for parking on single yellow. On a Saturday afternoon. On a wide, accessible road nowhere near town.

Evening came and it was time for me to go to a charity do out in Kesgrave. It was all black tie and lah-di-dah, so the lure of a few lovlies in their evening gowns was more than a draw. However, it was rather a disappointing show with about three notables, each either married or with an ‘other half’. What made it more infuriating was that the exceedinly lovely Helen sent me a text asking if I was out in town tonight. Dammit! I knew there was a reason I should have not gone to the do (I mean, they had my money anyway…)

So as I was driving, I wasn’t drinking. This made me prime candidate for taking five rather sozzled people into town for a continuation of their evenings. Me, I just felt like coming back and typing some nonsense into my blog.

I think this means I need to get out more. And if that doesn’t, then the big collection of empty wine bottles on the floor in my kitchen certainly does.

Say no more.

* Recipe for steak: sirloin; salt, cracked black pepper, mustard powder, onion salt, garlic salt, olive oil. In a pan for about 5 mins a side on a medium heat and then left to cool.

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2 Responses to Just call me Des

  1. CatM says:

    Yo Des,

    Surely the lovelies of Ippy are but mere humans and should be beating a path to your door?? The mountains coming to Mohammed as it were…

    And piles of wine bottles on the kitchen floor are nothing to be ashamed of.

    Honest.

  2. Alf says:

    “Don’t ask for whom the lovlies beat, they beat not for me…”

    – John Donne (kinda)

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