I'm dreaming of....
Dec. 29th, 2010 11:08 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
millionreasonsWe crunched through snow on Christmas Day as we traversed an icy Walthamstow Marshes, so it was definitely a white Xmas and I don't care what William Hill says. The ramble reminded me of the one Alan Partridge took - I wonder why the council haven't been 'round to salt the ground to make it less slippy.
We spent the rest of the day cooking and eating (no cauliflower, no bread sauce), opening presents (amongst some good presies, David has bought me a pair of tongs "as a joke" - this is what Mark gave to Dobby for Christmas in Peep Show. Tres amusant. I consider serving his Xmas Dinner a la Corrigan, i.e. shredded, but we only have a ribbon cut rather than a cross-cutter shredder) and watching Muppets' Christmas Carol, Scrooged and Dr Who. Watched these three versions of Dicken's seasonal entertainment, we found a fatal flaw in the story in that when he wakes up on Christmas morn, Scrooge sends a passing urchin to the butcher's shop to buy the biggest turkey he can find for the Cratchitts. But if the point of the story is to keep Christmas special, kickstarted by Bob C wanting 25th off work, then should the butcher's be open? I think not. Talking of Muppets, it's about time they branched out into covering other classic stories. How aboutMuppet Centipede Muppet Farm? Miss Piggy'd make a lovely Napoleon.
After Dr Who, we wander through dark N16 streets to DJ's house where cheese is eaten, cava and sherry is quaffed and Trivial Pursuit games are only very narrowly lost.
It was just like Christmas
Up the M11 to the frozen north where the tales of three foot snowdrifts seem to have been somewhat exaggerated. We have, rather surprisingly, accidentally hired a BMW which handles like a rather boring dream about motorways. I suppose the car make is appropriate as we are heading to the childhood home of one Mr J Clarkson. Arrive chez parents and spend the rest of the day eating, arguing over a quiz and watching telly, including 1985 TOTP (Jennifer Rush, Baltimora, Phil Collins, US Band Aid, and Billy Ocean - "You want the truth? Well this is it. I hate the 80s, the 80s were shit!"), the Dan! Dan! Dan! Dan! Dan! Dan! Dan! Dan! episode of Alan Partridge, and the highlights of Australia 98-10 and England 150-0. I love seeing Andrew Strauss's little face all a-glee almost as much as I like Ricky Pointing's all a-glow with irritation and disillusionment and various pundit duties awaiting.
Boxing Day Blues
Set off through a snowscape of Notts and Lincs, past Gainsborough power station blowing mistily in the background, as if Monet had rejected painting the Houses of Parliament for heavy industry. Arrive at Dave's parents' house and spend the day much as the last two has been spent: eating and TV watching.
But in the morning, we take a bracing walk on t'prom in search of the bathing beauty beach huts. It's not raining but we end up soaked from the mist. Usually when we're here, it's 10 degrees colder than the rest of the country but beautifully bright and you can see the weather 10 miles away.
I fall asleep in the car and dream about Kate Bush hosting an episode of Come Dine with Me and wake up in Leyton where all the shops shine like jewels.
We spent the rest of the day cooking and eating (no cauliflower, no bread sauce), opening presents (amongst some good presies, David has bought me a pair of tongs "as a joke" - this is what Mark gave to Dobby for Christmas in Peep Show. Tres amusant. I consider serving his Xmas Dinner a la Corrigan, i.e. shredded, but we only have a ribbon cut rather than a cross-cutter shredder) and watching Muppets' Christmas Carol, Scrooged and Dr Who. Watched these three versions of Dicken's seasonal entertainment, we found a fatal flaw in the story in that when he wakes up on Christmas morn, Scrooge sends a passing urchin to the butcher's shop to buy the biggest turkey he can find for the Cratchitts. But if the point of the story is to keep Christmas special, kickstarted by Bob C wanting 25th off work, then should the butcher's be open? I think not. Talking of Muppets, it's about time they branched out into covering other classic stories. How about
After Dr Who, we wander through dark N16 streets to DJ's house where cheese is eaten, cava and sherry is quaffed and Trivial Pursuit games are only very narrowly lost.
It was just like Christmas
Up the M11 to the frozen north where the tales of three foot snowdrifts seem to have been somewhat exaggerated. We have, rather surprisingly, accidentally hired a BMW which handles like a rather boring dream about motorways. I suppose the car make is appropriate as we are heading to the childhood home of one Mr J Clarkson. Arrive chez parents and spend the rest of the day eating, arguing over a quiz and watching telly, including 1985 TOTP (Jennifer Rush, Baltimora, Phil Collins, US Band Aid, and Billy Ocean - "You want the truth? Well this is it. I hate the 80s, the 80s were shit!"), the Dan! Dan! Dan! Dan! Dan! Dan! Dan! Dan! episode of Alan Partridge, and the highlights of Australia 98-10 and England 150-0. I love seeing Andrew Strauss's little face all a-glee almost as much as I like Ricky Pointing's all a-glow with irritation and disillusionment and various pundit duties awaiting.
Boxing Day Blues
Set off through a snowscape of Notts and Lincs, past Gainsborough power station blowing mistily in the background, as if Monet had rejected painting the Houses of Parliament for heavy industry. Arrive at Dave's parents' house and spend the day much as the last two has been spent: eating and TV watching.
But in the morning, we take a bracing walk on t'prom in search of the bathing beauty beach huts. It's not raining but we end up soaked from the mist. Usually when we're here, it's 10 degrees colder than the rest of the country but beautifully bright and you can see the weather 10 miles away.
I fall asleep in the car and dream about Kate Bush hosting an episode of Come Dine with Me and wake up in Leyton where all the shops shine like jewels.
