Pencilling it in

Christmas got more complicated when I became Santa's liaison officer.

I may have mentioned this.

This year, I managed, for the most part, to stay on top of things, but still found myself nipping into the new book store in the Cook Street Village on Christmas Eve.  It's like a Tardis -- way bigger on the inside.

I found about half a dozen treasures for stocking-stuffing, a job that Santa delegated to me some years ago.  One thing I spotted was a package of delicate pink pencils, perfect for younger daughter, who, I am reasonably sure, still thinks Santa is fully responsible for Christmas stockings.

I checked in with her mid-morning on Christmas Day, asking what she like the best.  She liked a lot of things, showing them to me proudly --- except for the pencils.  They had, she informed me, "swear-words" on them.

To my carefully-concealed horror, I noticed, for the first time, the delicate gold letters on each pencil, forming short and sometimes, quite long variations on expressions containing the F-word.  I quietly took the pencils to my room and have spent some time scraping the lettering off.  It's embossed, of course, and is taking some time.

Merrying @&%ing Sixth Day of Christmas.

Bloody 'ell

As you may have noticed, I'm participating in my tenth NaBloPoMo (National Blog Posting Month). So, it's 11:48 and I'm on my way to bed, and it suddenly occurred to me: Ooops! So here's a nice picture to look at. It's our neighbour's side of the porch. I think she took the ornaments down this evening. Both our trees are lying on the lawn like corpses waiting to be taken to the plague pit. I'll write something substantial tomorrow, I promise.