Friday, 20 December 2013

The annual circular letter, 2013 version

Dear friends/family/neighbours/acquaintances/plebs/whatevs (delete as appropriate)

Once more I find myself at the tail end of another year and wonder: WTF happened?

Indeed.

Given my renown penchant for early rising and an increasingly busy training schedule ("training for what?" I hear you ask, yes, exactly, details here), coupled with sporadic business meetings, a myriad of rugby-related engagements, increasing involvement in school governorship, and the growing concern that my eldest child will soon be taller than me (VERY SOON), I suddenly realised yesterday morning that the year is nearly over.

Or, to quote Kath and Kim, "It's ovah! O. V. A. H."

I then remembered that my realisation probably had more to do with the lengthy wine-tasting event I had attended the night before with my business partners and selected clients, which resulted in missing the last tube home*, getting to bed at some ungodly hour and then waking up wondering why a) my head was still spinning, and b) I had a sock in place of a tongue in my mouth.

It's also called getting older. And lack of sleep. Never mind, I digress, as ever.

Anyway. So, 2013. What of it then?

The good stuff:
- holidays
- training
- friends
- family
- business
- ridiculous autocorrect 'spellings'
- this
- and this

The mediocre stuff:
- needless paperwork
- wasting time on social media
- tolerating fools
- manually correcting autocorrect 'spellings'

The stuff-that-has-me-rolling-my-eyes:
- laundry
- OH's snoring
- muddy rugby boots (yes, I know, I know)
- autocorrect that persists in autocorrecting 'spellings'

And yes, there is lots more.

But if I wrote it all down it would not only take me half way in to 2014, I would also have to seek a(nother) alternative identity. Needs must and all that. 'Tis the time to be cheerful, or so the radio jingles advertisements happy clappy bunnies they keep reminding me.

I have done my usual and vetoed the Christmas card malarky because I am not in to the 'Look how many cards we've got this year!' competition, plus I figured out the kids get enough to make up any shortfall, and anyway they all end up in recycling on January 1st.

Xmas - 0, LCM - 1.

I capitulated regarding the tree though. Apparently after two hours of pestering, OH gave in to the offspring and came back with a three-foot high, live, potted, Nordic fir. Suffice to say my military instructions to the cherubs were stern enough ("less is more, no gold tinsel, and avoid the lop-sided look") and I have not had to spend a further two hours dismantling and re-uphostering the festive shrub.

Xmas - 1, LCM - 2.

And presents. Yup, sorted. Although this year I have bought mine on behalf of OH and even wrapped it for myself. Why? Because if I end up with one more hoodie top as a gift from him I will revert to being a true teenager, start wearing my jeans below my bum, and sulk around saying everything is 'boring'. There is only so much you can tolerate.

Xmas - 1, LCM - 3.

Enjoy the festivities everyone.
See you on the other side.

Laters!
LCM x

(c) Scott Adams

* If you saw some random woman remonstrating with a TfL guard about getting access to a tube station very late at night, I trust you listened carefully. She was merely querying - albeit loudly - why all the 'workers' have matching day-glo outfits and hardhats for what should be a relatively easy commute. As you do, after a few *ahem* drinks. At half past midnight.

(I did also ask whether the headgear and power tools were optional extras so they could avoid idle chit-chat with fellow travellers. It still did not get me access.)


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