It’s All Sarah’s Fault..

Ever since that fatal day, when I ruined the family’s chance of a trip to Hong Kong by procrastinating, I regulary visited B.A.‘s site hoping to see the prices drop once again.

No way: if had been a one-off offer, the kind you “simply don’t think twice about(as quoted by various friends and colleagues who, please note, have never been that spontaneous before).

And then I found it: Cathay Pacific from London, £ 399 return! Add a measily CHF. 150 to actually get to London and there you go: we were back in business! :-)

Sorry, Schatz: Sarah will be studying for her end-of-school exams in April.

No further comments, your honor..

Yesss: Black Socks for Christmas!

I’ll freely admit: I am totally delighted!

DBW surprised me with the mother of all Christmas presents this evening: 3 pairs of black socks!

He’s mad, you’ll say.

No, no.. Let me tell you a story: at one time or another, every kid “borrows” an item of clothing from their parents. We may be totally “uncool” most of the time, but our far superior taste in clothing episodically DOES get recognised by our offspring; the trouble is: we usually discover this charming revelation while futilely searching for that very item.

I always thought that, by producing two genetically pure human beings, I’d be spared the hypothetical “War of the Fashion Generations”; but that was counting without my…..socks.

There must be something about Dad’s black business socks: the everlasting odour which brings back memories of a childhood past? An esoteric bond, linking one sole to the other?

Quite frankly: once I have finished rummaging through my drawer at 06:30, only to be left with a pair of black sport socks (delightful to wear in business shoes ), I rarely have enough compassion left to justify their act-of-love…

The best is: my sweetheart didn’t just give me any old socks. It’s a socks subscription! Which mean I’ll be sent 3 new pristine pairs every now and then! Oh boy: forget the odd XBox, or Breitling watch, or Saitek X-52 joystick.. THIS is bliss!

Anyone need a couple of barely-used sports socks?

Motivation..

Every year, there are two thing I really look forward to around Christmas:

  • Mince Pies
  • Christmas Pudding

Alas while living on the “Continent” already drastically reduces my chances, sharing my life with a South-Italian practically annihilates them.

This year, I needed a cunning plan.

And even though I am usually quite humble, I have to admit that it was BRILLIANT!

Enter a box of delicious Mr Kipling’s Exceedingly Good Mince Pies, ordered from and delivered within two days from that brilliant place: BritShop.ch.

DBW’s reaction?

A disdainful snort, followed by:

Cookies..

Yep: we actually got around to baking Christmas biscuits this year.

Only three kinds, though:

  • Spitzbuben (a.k.a. “Linzer” cookies)
  • Viennese chocolate, raspberry and chocolate macaroons
  • And the obligatory “Mailanderli

But the kids thoroughly loved it:

Aren’t They Sweet?

I just wonder which one of them insisted on adding a penis to every “Pingu”-shaped biscuit…

Lights Up

For the first time ever, I took off two days from work last year:

  1. One to put up the Christmas lights
  2. One to go shopping

Indeed as most of the stress associated with this festive season is generated by doing things at the last moment, I rightly thought I’d spare myself the agony and get everything over and done with before the “other trolls” got their act together.

So, act #1 was the lights.

The Star of Bethlehem we had purchased at the local Christmas market, last year, had pretty soon thereafter decided to improvise and turn off the bulbs at the end of it’s tail. Funky, but not very appropriate.

Old Star of Bethlehem

So my first step was to go off and purchase a replacement 5 meters of those bendable light tubes. Took me a while to remove the old bit of tubing but, after having hung up the contraption to the side of the house (with DBW’s help, this year: didn’t want the thing to fall off the wall and bust those bulbs…again), the result was stunning.

And once dusk had fallen, and the 27 timers simultaneously done their thing, I stood at the end of the garden, in utter silence:

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