adore amy

deck the halls (and the kitchen)…

The Christmas preparation continues apace; my beautiful rental Christmas tree arrived safely and has taken up happy temporary residence in a corner of the living room until it’s return home with the rest of the visiting trees in the New Year – yay! I have managed to not break a single glass decoration, which is something of an achievement, although 2021 Tree’s diminutive size compared with last years’ strapping six footer means anything that falls off doesn’t have far to go; good news when I bought most of them from Fortnum’s after getting slightly carried away amongst the tinsel last year when everything was shut and miserable.

There has also been a trip into town and a walk up Bond Street to see more Christmas lights, carol singing at the Battersea Dogs Home carol service in Chelsea (which cheered me up no end not least thanks to the mince pies and mulled wine, the latter definitely erring on the rougher side – exactly what free mulled wine served in a paper cup ought to be), and my second and third visits in a month to the O2 for Christmas films, since their Cineworld is getting far more into the spirit of things than my usual Leicester Square branch, although the Prince Charles Cinema trumps all others as always (Jingle All The Way is a particular highlight at least for anybody who, like me, will happily hand over any amount of money just to see Arnold Schwartznegger punch a reindeer in the face).

I now have plans for both New Years’ Eve and New Years’ Day thanks in no small part to the Tate Modern and (predictably) the Prince Charles Cinema, but also the Ministry of Sound and its through the night New Years’ Day party – usefully enough, it only being a short bus ride (or slightly longer walk, at least depending on temperature and knackeredness) away, no concerns about having to leave at a sensible hour. I am slightly aghast to admit that I am middle aged enough to have left Pete Tong to it the other week in Brighton fifteen minutes before the end so as to preempt the cloakroom rush and not miss the last tube back from Blackfriars (I know, but I’d been on my feet all day).

New and glittery Converse are ordered for any upcoming festive evenings out and are winging their way over as I write; I am never knowingly underdressed, although to be fair being in Central London makes it virtually impossible to be either under or over provided one actually is dressed at all, and even that isn’t always a requirement. My glittery gold skinny jeans may even make another appearance, but only if it’s extra cold; I am still a little traumatised by the fateful year when, post Christmas, I overestimated the tensile strength of a pair of cheap skinnies way back when in the days when they were made from plain cotton denim, fell off the wall I’d been sitting on waiting for a bus which never arrived and eventually had to walk home with my friend in a blizzard pissed, muddy and with the arse hanging out of my breeks.

Back to the present day, and as per the Christmas page I will be here until Wednesday afternoon; whilst Saturday in particular is filling up a bit, there is still plenty of elbow room for anybody wanting to get a visit in before I go off and take to my sofa for a bit of a rest – yay! For those who can’t, don’t worry – I’ll be back in a week. Meanwhile, Song Of The Week is a Christmas classic from the Wall Of Sound section; I will try to get another one in, but if I don’t have time Darlene will hold her own perfectly well.

More soon…

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