Continuation

The wonders of technology - I got lots of little red message saying I had lost connection so I thought I would do a trial publish just to make sure I didn't lose you all.
Anyway, to continue ....
The boys (Bodybuilder and Jetski Boy) felt a little hard done by this year. With all the fuss of getting presents for everyone else, sometimes it is difficult to get the right presents for nearest and dearest so it tends to be something all year round like tax and insurance for their sleighs rather than big things on 25th. "My friend got a new car" etc make for a strained day sometimes but in once sense they did both get the world but that's another story. Mrs Claus' mother did get a new house for Christmas which must be better than a car but I can't claim to have had a lot to do with that apart from making sure she was settled as I passed overhead. Bodybuilder wants a new sleigh, can't see what's wrong with the little red one he has at the moment, very appropriate I would have thought apart from the fact that his reindeer are very frail and cost me a lot in maintenance. Jetski Boy doesn't know what he wants except that he won't be satisfied with anything he gets. Hey Ho what it is (was) to be young with no responsibilities
Once my duties are done I enjoy getting out of the red suit and just walking in the snow (slush) and enjoying nature. A little egret, Canada and Brent Geese, a flock of Redwings and the Ring Necked Parakeets were my reward.
So happy New Year to all my readers wherever you may be, Essex, or California and as the big lady in the Morecambe and Wise shows used to say " I love you all" ---- "Not now Arthur"

Bah Humbug!

Yes I did actually get a bag of humbugs for Christmas along with endless mince pies and so many glasses of sweet sherry to make me postively dangerous driving the sleigh by the time I got back to Fiji. Did you hear the sad story of the master mariner who told on Radio 4 how he lost Christmas one year as he crossed the international date line and missed 25th December completely whilst sailors going the other way had two Christmas days! Now you know why you can't get a commercial passenger airline ticket for Christmas Day! The absolute despair at losing Christmas Day, whilst think of the expense of having two - all those extra presents to buy. Some groups, I know celebrate Christmas on different days of the year and I admit that does take some of the pressure off but it is so difficult trying to get the elves back to work after they have been celebrating and 25th December remains my busiest year. The troops in Sangin and Helmund nearly caught me out by celebrating 10 days early but fortunately I caught that major's blog on the Today programme on Radio 4 which tipped me off.
Christmas Eve is of course my busiest day/night of the year and you would have thought that Mrs Claus would take exta care to stay in touch as I circumnavigate the globe, but no, she dropped her mobile down the loo! and couldn't understand why it kept making a buzzing noise until one of the elves got the battery out. (fortunately it had recently been flushed!)
Despite all my business I like to pop into a church for a midnight mass, preferably as I cross the meridian which marks my halfway point. Very good this year with a real vicar, collar and all and pithy little homily
TBC

What is the church coming to?

It's the third Sunday in advent and what is the theme of the family service? -- Indiana Jones - please come in costume.
We were away staying with Santa senior last weekend so that is how the message reached us on Thursday evening. Shock! Horror! what on earth has happened to the church of today? "They've been preparing for ages", "you can bet it will be really noisy", "what will visitors think?", "what on earth will the new associate minister, on his first Sunday think?"
Perhaps we don't have to go, maybe we could go to the nativity up the road. No that is an all ticket affair. Maybe we should go in the evening, just for once.
In the end tradition and a sort of morbid curiosity got the better of us and we left the sleigh behind and walked up the hill to the church.
What's this? a foyer full of angels and shepherds and I am sure I saw a king (or wise man depending on your translation and your preference) just nipping into the gents. Maybe someone had got at the vicar and it was all cancelled, written off as a horrible mistake. The "set" at the
front of the church looks pretty harmless, there is even a bible on the table up there.
Then, up steps Michael the hat with a story about Disney, a terrible joke (so what's new) and an introduction to Indy. Loud music, DVD montage and prepare to have your final illusions about the sanctity of the Christmas story ruined. But no, here comes a young lady with a big picture book sitting demurely on a sofa. Not a usual nativity but not our serpent hating hero either. Two small children and a teddy bear arrive. They can't sleep and want a bedtime story about Jesus (good for them) AND Indy!!!!
Pretty tall order and the story begins and before you know it the leather clad adventurer is strolling down the aisle looking not for a bride but a clue.
Despite myself I can't help beginning to get interested (or should that be entertained?). Cliches from all of the films follow fast and furious and the first clue is ........ not a gold idol but THE BIBLE - things are looking up.
Here I have to take my tongue out of my cheek and admit not only was it very entertaining but it made a pretty good effort at getting the truths of the Christmas narrative over in an imaginative and stimulating way.
So guys - sorry for my cynicism (bet that's not how it should be spelt) and well done, it was a really great job. Oh and thanks Matt for the carols old and new
So what's happening next week for the communion service - gin sling and bourbon instead of non alcoholic wine?

Tom Riddle can talk to snakes and that's not good

And then there was the bomb!

So much excitement over the temporary new addition to the family that I almost forgot to update you on the other big event of the week. To current readers you will be pleased to know that our short term, four legged guest has been returned to his home courtesy of the PDSA who confirmed that he had been chipped and identified his owners who had been frantic for 3 days wondering where he had got to. After breakfast of scrambled eggs and toast, dog food, dog biscuits, dog chocolate and I don't know what else I suspect he left the bodybuilder's flat heavier than when he arrived. He certainly didn't want for company as there appears to have been a stream of visitors cominig to meet him during his short stay.As regular readers know, Santa has to do a bit of moonlighting during the year to make ends meet between the busy seasons each November and December. Christmas seems to come earlier every year with the first card arriving last week - from Royal Mail appropriately - I suppose that allows them to say that Christmas deliveries are being made on time. Decorations have been in the shops since October, jostling briefly with halloween stuff and now in full swing. I may be getting old (about 1200 years actually) but Christmas just isn't the same as it used to be. Now 2,000 years ago - that was a really special one - and before that the Romans had a pretty jolly time at Saturnalia.Anyway, back to the plot. With the changes in tendering and procurement legislation various statutory bodies are now providing training courses for the "third sector" on the new requirements to ensure that they are still able to bid for business beyond 2010. I had just sat through two fascinating seminars on "personalisation" which seems to run along the lines of "you have a choice of three things on the menu but two of them are off - unless you want to pay privately of course" and "Equal Opportunities Impact Assessments" - riveting - when my name was called out. I won't tell you my alter ego but it is always a surprise when someone uses it out of context. Aha - another seminar choice I thought but instead there was a telephone call for me.Panic from the Chief Elf who I had left in charge as a second world war bomb had been unearthed just yards from the grotto. He had set the evacuation plan in process and all the little elves and their helpers were moved out to the overflow grotto but the dwarves that run that were getting very grumpy and so I had to leap on the silver sleigh and go and calm everyone down. When I got back to the seminar the head of adult social care - Peter Blister - had just finished his address which concluded "and so now you know the sort of things we will be assessing you on when we carry out our inspections at the beginning of the new year". EOIAs will defintely feature but as far as the rest of it I will just have to wing it and hope that a little bauble or two might ease the workings of bureaucracy. Hey ho or EO IA

Dad - what do I do?

"Dad, what do I do?" - aren't they just words that strike fear into your heart? - especially at 3.30 in the morning which somehow seems to be the usual time for such conversations to begin. You blearily grab the phone and get half way through the conversation before you stop and ask "what time is it for goodness sake" or words to that effect.
Responses range from; "I'm at a roundabout in Milton Keynes - how do I get home?" through "I've been clamped" to this policeman said.........". Nothing quite prepared me for this little episode though - "I've found a dog" followed by a pause (or should that be paws), "a big dog". Another paws accompanied by laboured breathing and snuffling. "He's a big dog, you wouldn't want to get on the wrong side of him". By this time the brain is beginning to kick in and you start to ask questions about where the dog was found, where it is now and particularly about the asthmatic friend in the background. "in the front seat of my car, he just hopped in" comes the reply. Well I suppose it would wouldn't it.
We then ran through a range of possibilities for the little elf to follow and let Santa get back to sleep. So, we tried the police station, the local vet emergency service, even thought about bedding down with the reindeer for the night. By this time I had given up all hope of sleep and started internet searches for stray dogs, rescue homes, PDSA (they have a shop just round the corner from your flat perhaps you could leave him there!) and FINALLY new laws passed a couple of years ago passing responsibility for stray dogs, cattle and horses to the environmental health officer at the local council
Standing on the pavement in dressing gown and slippers I didn't really look thoroughly but on closer inspection by daylight he has been in the wars a bit with a lot of scar tissue but he is just too soppy to be a fighting dog so he must be somebody's much loved pet and no doubt there is a family grieving their loss - so if you do recognise him then let me know so that we can get him safely back where he belongs.
We have no name or collar but I guess "Mutt" or Patch" would probably fit the bill. Just to help in the identification process, he doesn't like dog food, will do almost anything for chocolate and seems happy to survive on scrambled eggs, toast and pizza

Soaked to the skin

Reindeer Hugh likes his walks in the enchanted forest and if he doesn't get one each day he gets very grumpy. This morning however after a night of "severe weather warnings" and the potential loss of the covering over our neighbour's scaffolding this looked like being more of a chore than a pleasure. I looked at him and said "if we must" and I rather suspect he looked at me and would have said exactly the same thing except that a) he's too polite and b) he can't talk, well not human talk anyway. So I donned my old blue kagoule and the bright yellow waterproof trousers that date back to the days when Santa used to ride a motor bike. Whilst going through this performance the sky was black except when it was torn by flashes of lightning and thunder echoed around with torrential rain. No sooner had we got outside than the skies cleared, the rain ceased and although there were still very strong winds things seemed to be improving. Such a fool I must have looked, walking down the road dressed like an on shore lifeboat crew member rather than someone out for a morning stroll with a reindeer. But weather is deceptive and by the time we had reached the enchanted forest the wind had turned to a gale and the rain was coming down like a pressure shower. I don't know if you have ever stood under a pressure shower fully clothed but it is not to be recommended especially when the water is cold.
Then came the next problem ---- my trustee blue kagoule had somehow lost its waterproof qualities and was about as effective as a paper bag under the circumstances. Within 5 minutes I was as wet as Hugh as his raincoat leaks as well. he is getting a new one for Christmas but please don't tell him, we want it to be a surprise. A couple of drowned rats we were but far from hanging back he trotted off into the rain and looked as if he was thoroughly enjoying himself. Contrary things reindeer. To add to his pleasure he was soon covered in mud so all in all he felt it had been a pretty good walk although he still doesn't like the bath afterwards. Have you ever tried sharing a bath with a reindeer?
I promised to get a transatlantic reference into this week's post and facebook gives me the opportunity. Our dear friend ML wrote "Owww my latest piercing is infected. I shot pus across the bathroom. Yuck!". Not the image I recall of a young lady who used to babysit for Neil Diamond's family. Maybe this is some new kind of chemical warfare to be used in Iraq or Afghanistan. Get better soon ML - and I won't ask where the piercing is

More facebook problems

"What' this? how do I do that?, why did that happen?, where's M....?, have you read this?, why did she say that?" You may recognise some or all of these, as will any harrassed parent, but this time they come from a 54 year old facebook child. Sometimes I can ignore it but this time I gave in and tried to find an answer to these questions of universal interest the consequence of which was that the dinner burnt to a crisp. Pork steaks and roast potatoes were salvagable but the carrots and cauliflower were beyond redemption. Worry not, we rustled up some alternative vegetables and you will be pleased to know that we didn't raid the reindeer supplies.
It's firework night (ssssss), they seem to go on for a week or longer these days. Lots of flashes and bangs going on as I write with Hugh the reindeer cowering behind the table, but otherwise he has been pretty good this year. Friends who went to big shows last night came home soaked through. Their evening was made even worse by the burgers from a nearby stall which were so "fresh" that the beef patties were still frozen. Maybe they were supposed to put them on the
bonfire to cook.
Exciting week as one of the elves escaped to Bristol with friends. It was the first time he had ever taken his sleigh (the blue one) on the motorway but he seemed to cope very well and returned to the grotto safe and sound a couple of days later. I think he is off to a display this evening with mates and with a clear sky they should get a good show. That said, the colours would have to be quite spectacular to beat some of the autumn displays at the moment.
Worried about Christmas this year. So many people moan to me about the recession and they are going to cut back or even cancel Christmas this year. Humbug I say! Where would we be without Christmas? - more to the point where would I be without Christmas? The worst possible outcome of the recession, having to sell off the sleigh, making the elves redundant and I cannot even brinig myself to think about what would happen to the reindeer. Hugh would of course stay with us as a family pet. So whatever may or not be in your purse make Christmas special this year - Santa needs the work!

Facebook Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!

I have lost track of whether I have told you that Mrs Claus has become a Facebook addict, to rival only her passion for extreme sudoku. She has many so called "friends" who exchange banal comments with frequently barbed edges. How a simple question about fudge can elicit 13 posts in as many minutes baffles me. Do they really have nothing better to do? I mean they could be making more fudge for instance. As for me, I spend my weekend doing really useful things like sitting in standing traffic for three hours to take some boxes of paperwork to a Halliwick colleague (should that correctly read an Halliwick colleague I wonder). This is a little spare time job that I tried to give up 5 years ago and by virtue of doing nothing about it for 3 years finally persuaded my colleagues that it would be worth their while to get someone else to do it for me. I don't recommend the north circular to anyone on a Saturday afternoon. Still it was good to see the new Wembley stadium for the first time.
We decided to try a different route home along the M4 to Heathrow then round the M25, longer but hopefully quicker. Jist one problem, from where we had parked the sleigh the assumption was that all traffic only wanted to go East towards the centre of London not West so the first 20 minutes was spent in the wrong direction looking for somewhere to turn round. Why don't they have roundabouts on motorways? Once we had managed to turn around however the benefits were great. There was a really angry sky to the west ranging from orange to sea green and a big wind blowing that kept the clouds moving. Much more boring when we turned east again and drove towards the dark. Still I suppose living close to the North Pole we should be used to the dark by now.
Mrs Claus had the flu jab recently. Not swine flu (I understand that is a pig of an infection to catch), just the ordinary so of course we both have streaming colds now. A jug of hot grog and resting by the fire are the usual recommended remedy but that draws her back to the dreaded Facebook. Friends, posts walls, pokes and challenges to say nothing of bejewelled gardens and private zoos. It is all a mystery to me. I understand that walls have to have posts to help them stay up but if someone writes on my wall then I call the anti graffiti squad, not say "ho-ho, how jolly" and send a bon mot back by click of mouse.
Then there is the whole thing about profile pictures. Writing this I remember that I have told you all this before because I am sure I have told you about Mrs Claus' niece who pretends to be a cat. Anyway we have a talking car and people who have photos of someone else on their profile just to confuse me. I tell you, if they want anything up their chimney this year they will have to start behaving themselves
Oh and thanks to the real (not electronic) friend who brought me a spanish omlette when the sleight got stranded the other side of the Horsehead Nebulla, otherwise known as the M25

The return of SPOT

As I think you may be aware, Mrs Claus likes the sun and warmth and as such needs some reminders of what it is like in the rest of the world away from our snowy home. With the little money that we make from bringing joy to children every year she chooses to sponsor a young lady at school in Malawi. Well, we were both invited to a prestigious event in London (that is in England for readers whose geography is a little stale)to say thank you to people who are also generous in this way and to give us some idea of the school and what Tiwongi and her friends get up to every day. We took one of Mrs Claus' helpers to keep her company on the journey and set off early from our snowy home to arrive in good time. You may not know that Mrs Claus has a fear of being underground, perhaps from being caught in a big snow drift when she was young and this has caused her much heart ache as the main means of transport in London is in sleighs that run many hundreds of feet below the surface. There are surface sleighs, which are of course red, but they are so crowded and noisy that Mrs Claus agreed to try "the Tube". Readers of a certain age will be surprised that we did not meet Jules Holland but then neither were we whisked through the wall to a sunlit Cair Paravel. This was a shame as I have only visited Narnia once and even then someone was unkind enough to point out that I only appeared in the film and was not in the original book! Hey Ho, or should that be Ho Ho!

read about Thomas and his work http://www.everychild.org.uk/content/Blogs

Where is this all leading? you might well ask
Mrs Claus was very brave and the Tube faster than we might have expected so we arrived in good time and were entertained with red wine and cheese and cheese and cheese - I was very happy. Mrs Claus' friend pointed out that there was another lady in the room who kept looking at us. Well, I am used to being looked at but this seemed more than just idle curiosity and after a while the lady came over and spoke with us. To my shame I did not at first recognise her, then I realised that the lady with whom we were speaking was none other than the first candidate for the role of Mrs Claus!!! Little did she realise then what she had let slip through her fingers, but all has worked out well, she is happily married with an elf of her own and of course Mrs Claus and I are very happy together. We spent much of the evening reliving old memories and asking afer mutual friends as well as telling our stories. We have all made promises to meet up again soon, preferably before my busy season starts, but I wonder if Mrs Claus may find a way to prevent it happening

As some of you will know Mrs Claus and I now have our own pages on Facebook and we have been looking up other members of the family. The profile pictures people use really are very odd somtimes. Mrs Claus has a niece who looks very much like a cat, whilst her oldest nephew would appear to be a 60's rebel with a surf board.
We of course remain incognito on our pages making only passing reference to our lifetime's work and achievements
We get less hits than you might expect but then as someone commented to me the other day, it is not cool to have an uncle on Facebook

Judges

Some readers who share a common interest will know that September is a month for judges in the Claus household and covers more than one generation.
Daddy Claus who now lives in retirement by the sea entered, as he does every year, both vegetables and photos in the annual town show. This year he did not get a first as has been the case in past years but did get a second and a "highly commended", whilst for the first time Mummy Claus received a "highly commended" for her gooseberry jam. Well done both! It seems a shame however that you then have to bid in the auction to get your own produce back to enjoy
at home but I suppose it is all in a good cause, probably.
Secondly, in Santa's housegroup we have begun to study the book of Judges, being the sixth book of the Old Testament. Having come into the Promised Land the Children of Israel rather lost their way and spent a lot of their time beating up all the local people and eventually each other - so for a period of time they were led by a series of judges before they finally came to their senses and asked for a king. Humble reader, you might think you know nothing of the biblical judges but if I asked you about Gideon or even Sampson I am sure these are names you would recognise, but Deborah might come as a surprise to you. It never ceases to surprise me however that these ancient and historical books never mention Lapland nor my reindeer.
The third age of judges is yet to come in that Santa has been called upon to do his civic duty and sit on a jury. I am assured that neither David Jacobs nor Simon Cowell will be present but for some reason they have told me not to wear my red suit. I would have thought the beard would still be a giveaway though. I am called to serve in darkest B----d-n where I am told the correct form of dress is either Burberry check, preferably baseball cap and shorts or white stilletoes and a miniskirt. The local populace go by the tribal name of Chav - I seem to remember a pop duo called Chav and Dave, I wonder if there is a connection.
I know that you enjoy my nature notes and here is another update on the local fauna. Last blog I informed you of the return of the parakeets and now another familiar friend (or should I say friends) has returned. Long term readers will recall the "ride a llama" signs seen to the north of the great reservoir overlooking the industrial estate. The llamas have returned but I think it may be a while before anyone gets the chance to ride one as they all seem very young. They crane their long necks to look over the hedge and watch the passing cars and cyclists. With the recent traffic queues the cyclists tend to move far faster than the cars. They are definitely the origin of my good friend Dr Doolittle's pushmepullyou as they have a habit of standing end to end looking for all the world like a two headed beast.
Last week I was stopped by the police in what they call a census. They wanted to know where I had come from, where I was going and how often I did that particular journey and whether I normally carried passengers. They seemed very interested in the silver sleigh and wanted to know how many horsepower it had. I told them it was pulled by reindeer not horses - the modern constabulary, they really have no idea

They're back!

No not Lord Voldermort, as finally declared by the Minister of Magic at the end of the Order of the Phoenix (if you don't know what I am talking about ask a 10 year old). No, I refer to the ring necked parakeets which have finally made a noisy return to the woods in the nature reserve. After seeing a lone male flying on Christmas Day I had no positive sitings until the other weekend when a flock of half a dozen wheeled over my head with flashes of red, yellow and green. I had assumed that the very cold weather in the second half of the winter had wiped out the small colony. Funny how attached we get to some colourful immigrants. Somehow, awful though it may sound, if I had lost a group of Albanians or Poles in the woods over the winter I don't think I would have been so bothered. That's the British I suppose.
Yet again I must apologise for the long silence, nearly as bad as the parakeets, since I last blogged. I can't even blame the parliamentary recess as most political bloggers seem to have been at it just as hard over the summer.
I am looking at a pictogram of a greyhound, the emblem of the Retired Greyhound Trust, who have been known to take the odd reindeer by mistake from time to time. We went to a coffee morning in support of them a couple of weeks ago and came back with lots of "greyhound" stuff and helped them raise quite a bit of money into the bargain. I rather suspect greyhound goodies may make their way into some of Santa's sacks this year. Their publicity reads: "great companions; good with children; don't need large amounts of exercise; don't cost huge amounts to feed; generally quiet and don't bark a lot and are a very healthy breed" - doesn't sound like a reindeer to me!
Yesterday was a fun day with Mr and Mrs Claus going out incognito to celebrate the 50th anniversary of our local tube depot. I prefer travelling by sleigh myself but it was interesting to see how the Muggles (ask a 10 year old) travel. "attle trucks"is the phrase that comes to mind but very interesting to see different ages of rolling stock going back to early Metropolitan and District days, even to steam power for the early subterranean routes.Then we saw the promise of the new Euro Tube,which looks a bit like a bendybus but runs on rails. Lots of space and very airy. What they really mean is that they have taken out half the seats so they can cram in more people standing and given them air conditioning to cope with the smell. Mind you stand under one of the air conditioning vents and you will have a stiff neck or a frozen shoulder for the rest of the day. They are promised to come into service this year BUT not on this bit of the line until 2013 if we all last that long. We finished the day with a trip on a double decker bus which was "jolly fun" as my Aunt would say as we sailed gracefully under the "low bridge" that proclaims "no buses". Which all goes to show - something or other. Either we were all shorter 40 years ago or we just didn't mind getting cricks in our necks every time we stood up to go down the stairs. Those were the days, an open platform with a white pole to hang onto whilst waiting to jump off as soon as the bus got slow enough, or even to grab onto if you were running to catch up. Clippies who rang the bell and told you to "hold tight please". (NB 10 year olds if you don't understand what I am talking about ask an adult, preferably one over forty who remembers the time when buses were not totally enclosed and there were enough employment vacancies to have a driver AND a ticket collector

No !!!!!!!! e-mails

I marvel at just how much we have come to rely on modern technology and how lost we are when it breaks down. Incredimail, the wonderful company that provides my e-mail service with lots of pictures and cartoons and fancy notifiers has taken a dislike to me. About 20 times a day it sends me a message to tell me that it can't send me any messages because my mailbox is full. This continues despite the fact that I have deleted every e-mail in my in box, every e-mail in my sent box and every e-mail in my deleted box. With much sorrow I have also deleted all those funny little messages you all send me that I keep in separate folders just in case I ever want to remind myself what it would be like if women ruled the world or 101 things sunday school children are alleged to have said or even better all those air brushed photographs of things that couldn't possibly ever have happened. I have even deleted the one showing the girl on the back of a Harley with a specially adapted bra to keep a bottle of Becks in - maybe I should have kept that one!
None of this is meant to imply that I am not grateful for all the bon mots that clutter my inbox or vex me as to who I can (or shouldn't) forward to. You know the sort of thing "send this to all the women you know and any man you think is big enough to take it" - why do I always get those - is someone trying to tell me something?
Anyway, I did all that and moments later "Ping" goes my notifier and the little duck comes into the corner of the screen to tell me that "we cannot send you any messages because your mailbox is full".
Maybe it will be better tomorrow but somehow I doubt it. Dear reader please keep sending me e-mails and one day I might just get them. Just in case I have taken a good old fashioned paper copy of my address book so if the whole thing just blows up at least I will still have all the contacts. - another happy evening to while away loading them all again.
A lesser technology has also featured in the Claus family activities this week. I shall restrict myself to this week even though I see it is several weeks since I last wrote. Mrs Prim and Proper in a bright orange T shirt and cream pedal pushers set the pulses racing at the beginning of the week. Reindeer Hugh gave chase and Mrs P&P pedalled off into the distance. Bodybuilder has just bought a new bike on the not unreasonable basis that he can no longer afford the petrol to go everywhere by car. This is rather different from JetSki boy who expects to go everywhere by car since passing his test and still has the belief that magic elves put diesel in it when he goes to bed. Pragmatist BodyBuilder - 40 people go to Southend for a rave = 10 cars. Idealist JetSki Boy goes to Southend for the ride - 7 people = 7 cars. I suppose realisation will set in eventually, closely followed by "I've got a job Dad" and "that's fine Mum I'll pay". Hmmm who am I trying to kid.
Anyway back to BodyBuilder and his bike. 14 gears, disc brakes, independent suspension - very good except that on day one of serious cycling his chain snapped and he had to call on good old Dad to go out in the silver sleigh to rescue him.
Even so, things are looking better in "the other job" with LBE paying up more than £150k out of the quarter of a million that is still owed from last year.The Board, who mistakenly think I work for them full time seem very pleased at this development. What did they expect, that I was going to reach into a big sack and produce it for them???? - I suppose they will want to sign up the tooth fairy next.
Glad to see from the Blog reports that I have a "follower". My dictionary gives one definition of such as "women of dubious repute who followed the armies to provide various personal services" Dear follower I am sure that does not apply to you (but if it does please don't let Mrs Claus see you lurking around the back of the grotto)
Enough, no more, 'tis not so sweet as it was before - as the good bard said so I shall sign off until the next time I get around to writing. Not such a long interval next time I promise, possibly

JetSki Boy on the road

I knew the day had to come. After all this is what I have been spending all that money on, lessons, tests, insurance....... and now he finally has an independent set of wheels. Having been briefly run over by a car last night, today he got his own back on the world and passed his driving test. Hurrah - well done JetSki Boy. So now we have four drivers, three cars, and ONE person to pick up all the bills! How will I cope when the silver sledge goes in for service when I can no longer call on Clio to be my second chariot? -- well actually quite well since the insurance is in my name and I have the spare set of keys, but then you can't borrow a boy's wheels without at least asking. If Santa pays all the bills including putting in the petrol/diesel (make sure I am filling up the right one for them) don't you think he should get to drive sometimes?
Summer should be our slack time of year but I fear the elves are restless and not taking at all well to the new management regime. Lots of grumbling and discontent. One of the senior elves may even be asked to leave if things don't improve but I do hope it won't come to that - so much unpleasantness and a very negative effect on the rest of the family. There was even talk of setting up a rival grotto, but so far we have all the rights in that particular market. That said I was looking at a potential new site this afternoon as the old cave is getting shabby and worn and we need somewhere brighter for the elves to work with a lot more space. Somewhere light and airy the shop steward said so I went to look at a redundant Kia showroom - lots of light and air and draft there but they told me it was already on offer to Mr Klutch. Now when I was just a lad with scarcely a white hair in sight I remember Kia (Ora) being something to do with fruit squash not selling cars, and some strange bird in the advert (and no I don't mean that female newscaster)
I suppose it must all be to do with the scrappage scheme, get someone (like the good old taxpayer) to give you £2,000 and encourage you to give lots my to Japan or Korea or even horror of horrors France. Reading that bit again, there is something going through my mind about people in glass houses since the silver sleigh came from a Japanese company but at least I bought it myself and didn't ask for any help from my neighbour's taxes. Maybe that's my problem - not just grasping enough to believe the rest of the world owes me a living.

Wimbledon 2009

Looking at the index I see that I raised a blog last year about Wimbledon 2008 so it is only right that I do the same for 2009. We were fortunate to get tickets in the LTA (non players) ballot for the first week (could hardly be the second week could it as that hasn't happened yet) so Mrs Claus and I set off for SW1. Our usual trip, across the bridge and down the A20 to Croydon and then a tram all the way to Wimbledon Station. Mrs Claus does not do "underground" in any shape or form so we have to make this rather circuitous journey each year to gain our fix of tennis. Upminster to Wimbledon looks straightforward on the District Line map, one end to the other (a bit like our old journeys from Cockfosters to Heathrow) but would be a nightmare of a journey, particularly on a baking hot day. For those of you who are already lost, this is the difference between the squiggly green line and the blue one on the map. There was an enormous queue on the Bridge so we made he best of it and enjoyed the clear views of the Thames Estuary from Shellhaven and Tilbury docks right up to Canary Wharf and beyond. Worth £1.50 of anybody's money
Talking of money it is just as well this is not a subscription blog as I see it is almost exactly a month since I was last in contact with you dear reader. I would have liked to put "readers" but then I don't want to flatter myself
Anyway back to Wimbledon, or at least the journey. We stopped for coffee and caramel slice in St George's Arcade, not that I expect you to necessarily know where that is - but the cafe seems to be the only shop still open and then down to have our annual battle with the ticket machine at the tram stop. It is carefully placed so that the sun shines full on the screen and you can't read any of the instructions but pushing a haphazard range of buttons seemed to produce two tickets and the inspector we met later on seemed the think they were the right ones. It is easy to get to Wimbledon, you just get on the red tram, except that now they are all green and white just to confuse me.
The walk from the station to the tennis courts is the next stage of the journey followed by the inevitable queue even though you already have designated tickets but this year they opend a gate just as we arrived and give or take the security check we were straight through. So then to find the new Number 2 court which is not where the old Number 2 court used to be but in a wholly new place and the old Number 2 court is now the new Number 3 court just to make life interesting. There is a variety of things you can do at Wimbledon - queue for the toilets, queue for food, queue to get into the museum, queue to buy a souvenir, queue to get back onto court when you have "just popped out" for a moment. The last is the most frustrating because all the most exciting things always happen when you are at the bottom of the staircase and can't see anything, just listen to the shouts of those who stayed on court. BUT new Number 2 court is great. It just happened to be right beside the gate we came in at, has its own toilets and two food outlets and a souvenir shop all built into the outside wall, and inside big video screens, hawkeye AND padded seats! What more could you want? Well actually you could want Mrs Claus not doing her best to restart the 100 years war with our gallic cousins. People who watched the match on television asked "what was the delay when he was serving at match point, what was all the fuss about?" Well the fuss was about Mrs Claus dropping her water bottle down the steps and trying to retrieve it and coming eyeball to eyeball with a rather cross Frenchman wanting to know when she was going to be quiet. Mrs Claus decided to retrieve her bottle later, the Frenchman served at match point and duly consigned yet another English player to the locker room
We did see some really good matches and I just know you are going to ask who we saw so.......

Do you really want to know?


Are you really sure - they weren't the famous ones you know?

Well if you insist it was ................

I think Mrs Claus must have the details at work

salsify tragopogon porrifolious

Well I wanted to know what it was called and now I do and after my e-mail so do Essex Wildlife Trust and Thames Chase so I hope they are grateful.
We all get sunburn in funny places, some places on Mrs Claus need to be seen to be believed (but I have no intention of providing photographic evidence). I on the other hand have sunburnt knees. Don't ask me how, or why only knees as I have no answer to give, suffice to say they are red and itch and may impede my praying for days to come.
Life is relatively uneventful at the moment, body builder is in Wales and Jetski boy is waiting for his driving test next week. it seems lame to have no other news to partake but I knew you would be pleased for me that I now know my 6 year search for a name is over

tell me what it is

I spent most of the morning up to my elbows in the drain so it is also nice to have some nature notes to report. The man came to repair the washing machine at the second attempt but also commented that the drain was blocked which was one of the reasons water was flushing back into the sump on the machine. Would you believe there are 15 joints between the washing machine outlet and the main drain pipe including the sink and the butler sink. Being plastic, pressure on one to try to undo it bends all the rest out of line. In fairness to the washing machine man I did clear a full bucket of foul smelling gunk from the pipes and eventually managed to put all the bits back in place with no leaks! ........ but still the washing machine won't work. There must be another blockage further down the main pipe which runs along the back of all the kitchen cupboards and I just don't have the equipment to get that far down.
So it was pleasant to get back in the fresh air with reindeer Hugh and across the fields and woods which brings me to the nature notes. For those who know the area "the sheep are back". The flying flock has returned to the chase although they are grazing a new area so I didn't see them at first. And then there is the picture (assuming I manage to upload it) which will make this whole blog a bit pointless if I can't as I am now going to ask you to identify it. It first appeared about 4 years ago in just one place but I now know of 4 places that it has colonised and this morning it just seemed to be coming up everywhere. So if you know what it is, whether common or rare, just add a comment to the blog to let me know

cyclist for breakfast

Dear Reader
You must have almost given up on me - I see with shock that it is almost a month since I provided you with a titilating insight into life chez Santa.
My work being such as it is, it is necessary for Mrs Claus to have a day job to help ends meet, although in her case it is a night job, but ends still need to be met. For a whole variety of reasons that it is not necessary to go into, Mrs Claus' nights have recently changed which has had an impact on almost every aspect of our lives. Not least we now have full weekends together which is strange after so many years when this has not been possible. Having just celebrated our 310th wedding anniversary, the consequence of having every weekend together may be that we don't make 311 but we will do our best and again that is another story.
The immediate point being that I now have to take Hugh the reindeer for his early morning (6.30am) walk each weekday morning as well as the pleasure of being the main walker on Saturdays and Sundays. Sometimes we walk up to meet Mrs Claus as she returns from the home for incurable elves and sometimes we just walk the streets exchanging sniffs and words with other reindeer owners. But one day last week there was a strange noise behind us and on turning round there was Mrs prim and proper coming along on a bone shaker. Hugh is very fond of Mrs prim and proper since she sometimes looks after him when we are away scouting for elves and he loves to chase bone shakers so the combination was irresistable. Fortunately the consequences were not dire since he was still attached to his reins.
Since we last communicated the Israel group have had a reunion. With well over 1,000 photographs between us it was a very happy time full of memories and stories to be retold.

55 and out or just challenging

I am living in an electronic age that I do not understand. Birthdays are for growing old graciously without intrustion from the outside world apart from 3 very nice bottles of wine from the office girls. So some very nice cards through the post - you know the sort of thing, views, cars, sports equipment, flowers and good wishes and then WHAM!! one e-card and two birthday hits on facebook. I just can't cope anymore - the 21st Century is trying to grab me screaming and kicking. Then to cap it all T Mobile have just sent me a text inviting me to a rave in Trafalgar Square for their next TV commercial.
So what, dear reader may you ask, happened on my 55th birthday. No rest for Santa. We had a course on challenging behaviour. I sometimes wonder if my colleagues have been on ones to learn how to be challenging but this was supposed to explore various forms of behaviour, some of the underlying reasons and then some of the responses. Was I set up? -- well that was my fear but actually it went quite well and I only got stitched up twice. Since the head of commissioning for London Borough of Enfield is on public record as saying that I am only an accountant and know nothing about learning disability I got the short straw to feed back on "what is behaviour, what makes it challenging and how do we know why it is challenging". I thought I did quite well but was told I "was taking it too managerially" but then it probably wasn't a good idea to have told the wonderfully named Caroline Dibble that she should word the question more clearly next time. Anyway, over coffee there was discussion about what a nice sunny day it was and how the blonde bomber would rather be out with the top off. I had to remostrate with her manager about this outburst of unseemly behaviour from which time it later became apparent that I had become the subject of mild gambling as to whether I would take up the invitation or not. Suffice to say that I was then taken out (to the significant financial cost of some colleagues) in an open top MR2, around the country lanes at high speed. Lots of comments about needing personal care (those in the care of health professions know what I mean) but actually not scary at all - at least not after 3 laps of Brands Hatch with a professional racing driver several years ago. I believe the pedestrian is making good progress and I should probably send him some flowers.

Israel digested

Erratum: for LSA in the last blog please read "technician". The real LSA is now working full time and the two are not to be confused. Also there have been complaints from the lady who walks three feet off the ground due to a misunderstanding about the origins of her nom de plume. Please be assured it has nothing to do with S, rather an incident in church - now that has got you wondering.
What can be said about our pilgrimage to the Holy Land? It was all that we wanted it to be and more I think. We had a complete range of emotions from frustration and a little fear at the border crossing, great sadness at what has become of Bethlehem, a wonderful sense of peace on Galilee, hope and blessing at the empty tomb in the garden at Golgotha and elation and wonder in Petra. Thousands of years of history, not just the history of man but the story of God's intervention in the lives of men. From the heat and salt half a mile below sea level to the breeze, sun and cool of half a mile above sea level at Masada.
There is a T shirt that says "Med Dead Red" indicating the three seas that border the country of Israel. The Med as we saw it in Tel Aviv, Jaffa, Haifa and Acre (Akko to those who prefer the original) was wild and rough with big waves breaking over the harbour walls. Definitely not what we are more used to seeing from France or spain or from the Spanish or Greek islands. Rain and lack of time thwarted any thoughts we might have had of dipping a toe. Dead - sparkling and inviting but striking cold to the first touch and once in everything that Halliwick would expect it to be. (if you want to know more about that remark try out www.halliwick.org.uk). It has to be said that the lady who walks three feet off the ground presented classic rotation patterns reflecting the changes experienced in the metacentric effects. She may take heart that she is now entered in the Halliwick archives as a classic demonstration for new therapists. We also have the vision of my favourite retired teacher holding the technican's toe and shading her eyes against the sun. The funny thing about going into cold water is that when you come out it feels warm and you are happy to go back as if you were climbing back into a bath. The same can be said of Red. Santa knows as he was the only one of the party to try the sea against the pool. Interesting companions in the Red including some fish and several sea urchins. Then of course there were the sulphur baths which I believe I have mentioned before. HOT and smelly whereas the showers were icy cold like needles hitting the skin.
So that deals with the first full day and the last full day and you will have to wait to know what came in between. We have yet to meet the talker, the soldier and the prince

back by popular demand (or is it nagging?)

Arrested at the Jordan border!!!!!
Well not actually but I had to come up with some plausible excuse as to why you have not heard from me for rather a long time. Partly I didn't want to flag a trip to Israel too soon just in case someone out there in the blogosphere had designs on burgling the house whilst we were away and since coming back there just hasn't been time - but fear not dear reader you have always been near my thoughts. Memory is a strange thing (particularly mine), it has the capacity to help you remember things that never happened, forget the really important ones and endow some of the things in between with a rosy tint. Mrs Claus on the other hand has a capacity to pull events and dates from her cerebral filing cabinet with amazing accuracy and speed. For instance I did not even remember that 23 years ago we were held on the tarmac for over two hours waiting for take off let alone the reason. That reason we later found out was an Irish lady intercepted at the airport carrying all the constituent parts of a bomb given to her as a present for the family by her "boyfriend". The shooting dead of the German tourist less then 50 feet away from us I do remember but thankfully not in technicolour.
Baggage searches this time were far more overt. Over the range of 6 international border crossings all of us had our cases searched at least once and the more suspicious looking ones (like me) twice or more. ~The trick is not to tell them anything. An affirmative answer to any of the following questions will result in an immediate search
Do you know anyone in Israel?
Has anyone given you anything to put in your luggage?
Did someone else pack/help you to pack the luggage
Has the luggage ever been out of your sight since you packed it?
Are you carrying a bomb? they do try to catch you out by asking the same question in a different format later on during the process
Do you have anything electrical?
The tale of the mobile phone in the suitcase will live long in the collective memory. The lady who walks 3 feet off the ground admitted to having electrical things including a mobile phone in her suitcase which of course prompted an immediate and thorough search. However no trace could be found of the mobile phone, or the alleged hair dryer, not amongst the clean clothes nor even the dirty washing. Even the assistance of Santa failed to find the elusive object until a further officer was called upon to exercise his skill in searching for such things. Skills honed by years of training proved their worth and the phone emerged, not without embarrassment. As the lady who walks 3 feet off the ground said later "it came out tangled in my bra - and it was my black one!" Gentleman readers of a sensitive disposition should perhaps take a break now before reading on .............................................................................

Leading a group of excitable pilgrims is not without its hazards, particularly when having to deal with horses and camels for the trip and faced with constant demands for bathrooms, restrooms, wc or comfort breaks to say nothing of fending off hunky hotel receptionists. More of Sebastian later perhaps. Although there were three gentleman and five ladies in the party (later joined by two of each for our first week), I am reminded most of the trio from the Mikado "three little girls from school are we" as we travelled with our not so innocents abroad.
The party consisted of Mrs Claus and myself (of course), the lady who walks 3 feet off the ground, her companion with the dirty laugh, my favourite retired teacher, the LSA, the tennis champion and the station master. Then we were joined by the Bolton two, the haggler from Yeovil and the monk.
Domestically you will be pleased to know that both body builder and jetski boy survived our absence. There was even evidence of washing up having been done which really marks a step up the evolutionary ladder. Keeping in mind the date of our return we were greeted on the doorstep by bodybuilder clutching a large parcel which he proceeded to give to Mrs Claus saying "here's a mothers' day present for you". The contents of this largess you might wonder? - dirty washing. To his credit he did return the following day with a proper and very well thought out gift whilst jetski boy produced, unprompted, a bunch of flowers.
Now that should have whetted your appetite for a while but for a fuller diary you will have to wait until the next time I log on.
thanks for reading - more to follow

To Blog or not to Blog

Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to bear the slings and arrows etc. I see that the noble art of blogging seems to be being replaced by something far less savouryif not downright delinquent on the basis that someone claims to be able to read my face (like a) book, a pastime I myself have resisted on the basis that I have been warned you might catch something nasty - vis virus. But no, my in box is filled to capacity with warnings that somebody has been writing on my wall and challenges to pillow fights to say nothing of being prodded, or was it poked. One young lady blows bubbles at me from her back door step, on the pretext that she was only 3 at the time whilst an ex colleague peers at me from behind a party mask and challenges me to all sorts of things. e-mail it seems is dead and all information must now be passed by facebook, like knowing when someone you were praying for returns to their homeland. Quick and efficient it maybe but personal it is not. However since there appears to be no alternative but to be dragged into the 21st Century I suppose I had better just get used to it, although I do think twitter is better left to the birds. Talking of viruses, I have a nasty one on my blackberry (no not the garden variety). Ever since a colleague set it up to send and receive e-mails (it is the work phone after all) I have not been able to use the address book. It tells me that I have all these contact numbers with phone number, mobile, e-mail, writing address and invites me to do a variety of things in response to the plethora of information available. SMS ....... EMS..... (what's the difference?), send an e-mail, call home, call mobile - the list is endless but just try asking it to actually do one of these things and then it sulks and turns off.
I washed the sleigh last week and filled it up with petrol and hoovered it and did all the things a new owner loves to do. Now I know why sleighs are red, my silver one is as dirty as it was a week ago.

S'now Joke

Quite why the artic weather has stopped me getting to the blog I don't know. Monday, like the rest of the world I didn't manage to get across the M25 so spent most of the morning across the fields with Hugh meeting lots of dogs and dog owners all out to enjoy some of creation's finest sights before man and his mucky boots and tyre tracks comes along. This is also the time at which we remember that Hugh is not white but distinctly OFF white if not pinky grey. Not the pinky grey of a flamingo standing at Lake Natron at sunset but the rather grubby, pinky grey of a balding greyhound trying to keep out the cold. Tuesday I made it to work although most of my colleagues did not. Wednesday they all came in, I wonder if it was something to do with the phone call they had saying that I would deduct a day's annual leave if they didn't.
Fortunately the threatened fall on Thursday evening did not arrive as we were all walking back from a housegroup meal at an italian restaurant to celebrate Christmas 2007. Yes that's right, 2007. With all that happened last year with Mrs Claus' Dad dying and bodybuilder in hospital we never got around to our annual celebration. Next month I suppose we should go and celebrate Christmas 2008. We also celebrated Mrs Claus' birthday which was nice. Taking Mrs Claus to the Lakeside on her birthday when she suffers from Shopping Phobia was also a miracle but we got rid of the old bag. Suitcase I mean, we bought new suitcases for our trip to Israel.
Which brings us to this morning. "You sit and wait for lady, she hold your hand" This is the practise nurse lining me up for the next lot a travel jabs. Needles and me is not a good combination. The things that have happened before, during and after injections would be good material for one of those books that everyone always says they are going to write. Today was full of even more surprises - just when I thought I had coped with a sharp jab in one arm, she comes at me on the other side with a whole new syringe. Off I go back to the waiting room whilst Mrs Claus goes through her jabs with barely a flinch. "Are you OK, you look a bit white" "No, I'm fine, just holding this wall up for a while. The sad thing is that having agreed to work from home for the rest of the day I got stuck into lots of stuff, moved my arms around a lot and almost forgot about the matching holes in each of my biceps. Mrs Claus, having worked a night shift in the home for retired elves had to go to bed and woke up in agony having slept on one of the pierced arms. I know it will all be worth it just as long as they don't declare another war!

a wheely good weekend

No this has nothing to do with the much vaunted, and definitley overrated return of Jonathon Woss to our screens. Instead this is a story about things with one black wheel and four silver wheels or in my case at the moment two black wheels and three silver ones. As regular readers will know, last weekend saw Jetski boy buying his first car with his money and my wallet - insurance, road tax, spare parts servicing - all the little things that make owning a car such a delight. Santa, as you would expect drives something large and red and a nasty scratch on the back bumper. "Honest officer, this wall leapt out and hit me". I had been getting itchy accelerator feet for a while, caused by wandering round car showrooms and called to photos on web sites with and by relatively small boys. SMALL - what am I talking about, one weighs a solid 3 stone more than me and the other now tops me by several inches. I think I must be shrinking in direct proportion to my bank balance. Anyway, back to the story. On the basis that Santa's sleigh was being serviced and subjected to the indignities of an MOT I had taken Jetski Boy's vehicle to work, had a bad day and driven home early on the pretext of writing up all the papers in the evening. Talking of MOTs, I bet you never ever thought of the regulations I had to put up with over emissions when it was just the reindeer! Just as I was driving past CWC, a reputable retailer of second hand sleighs something called to me from the back of the forecourt (if you understand what I mean). Just glimpse but it was enough to persuade me to harness up my remaining reindeer Hugh and return to CWC forthwith. To my distress when we arrived outside the little silver sleigh was nowhere to be seen. But wait, here is CW himself, looking gaunt and wan - it is not a good time in the second hand sleigh market. "Did I not see an M3 sleigh here but half an hour ago?" I enquired. CW confirmed that that was indeed the case and it was even now being valeted after its long sojourn from Peterborough. It had had only one previous owner and had recently been acquired from the Royal Bank of Scotland as part of their pre-nationalisation disposal of assets. In the meantime my trusty old red sleigh had returned from its MOT with a full certificate of health with the exception of one of its silver wheels which had been replaced on a temporary basis by an old fashioned steel one until I can obtain a new and legal tyre. So next weekend will see the end of an era as I swap my trustee Euro Sleigh for an bright shiny, silver Nippon Sleigh. This does however represent a considerable downsizing in terms of capacity as it is now only FabAl and Mrs Claus and one elf together with reindeer Hugh.

The ups and downs of a teenager

A very tough week, partly of my own making. For the second time in my life I have built a whole team structure including some very carefully worded job descriptions around a particular person only to see them walk away from the opportunity and my plans in tatters. The last time it nearly wrecked a life as well as a job so it is to be hoped that this time the consequences will not be so serious for all concerned. I like to think that there is still a way back but then despite everything my glass is always at least half full. Emotional commitment, subterfuge and final admission of failure (at least in the immediate future) all take it out of you so getting home Friday was a welcome relief. Those familiar with my habits will know that Friday is "chill in front of a DVD/Video" (yes I am still old fashioned enough to have video and I think Blu Ray is a fish!) night, preferably with a glass of something intoxicating on the side. No DVD this Friday, instead I wrestled with technology and managed to access the programmes I had saved on the "set top box" A great documentary on Pink Floyd and a rather self indulgent film about Genesis. Made we want to go and dig out the vinyl. Talking of Genesis - a very interesting housegroup this week. Being the bicentennial of Darwin this year (birth or death? someone asked and I still don't know the answer) we put the creation account in Genesis chapters 1 and 2 on one side and the Origin of Species on the other DISCUSS". Well it was a very interesting evening and I think we reached a point where no one could be accused of being a fundamentalist and no one was written down as a wooly liberal but it was a good opportunity to review our own beliefs and where we stand in the light of God given scripture and investigative science. As one of the group said "one is science and the other is faith" and there is no answer to that. So maybe even here, or perhaps especially here it is appropriate to ask the question "will I ever learn"
Which brings me in a rather circuitous way to the highs and lows of teenage life. Unfortunately Jetski boy had a disappointment during the week in connection with his driving progress. However he bounced back by informing me that "a nice Corsa had appeared in Masons" - code for can we go and look at a car. His comment about the "massive rims" and the discovery of an exhaust system with an exit port only marginally less massive than the rims brought his verdict of "a chav's car". This no longer seems to be an expression limited only to Basildon, or even just Essex so I feel no reason to explain further. At least the upholstery wasn't Burberry!
Anyway, we then met P who invited us to l"ook at that one which has only just come in" complete with mud splashed all down the side. Since we had been given the keys it seemed rude not to take if for spin. I think P must specialise in deceptive cars. The last Fiesta we tried from there turned out to have a 1600cc engine with sports tuning and an insurance premium that could have purchased several branches of Woolworths. And so we returned this elderly but "nice runner" to his tender care and said that we quite liked it but it depended on the price. The price was reasonable and a deposit changed hands at which time the revelation was made that this one, a Clio, had an 1800cc engine!!!!!! With the insurance premium I could have bought this and another car so it looked as if this would be another disappointment. And then that friendly dog with aspirations to be a prime minister (or do ads for Yorkshire Bitter) arrived with a discount premium to make you bite the hand off. So, out with the cheque book (credit card more like) and back to P who seemed not at all phased by a request to take immediate delivery. The keys were handed to Jetski boy together with a crisp £20 note to "go to the carwash and get some diesel" the latter being the second revelation as I would happily have filled it up with petrol. Now all Jetski boy has to do is get the keys back off Dad and persuade him to put the L plates on. If you see a blue Clio that sounds like a tractor then you have been warned (especially if a man in a red coat and a white beard is driving)

Happy New Year

Another new year is upon us, the time just flies past so fast I had hardly come to terms with 2008 before it was gone and over half the first week of 2009 is already passed, used up, never to be lived again, not even by the recently appointed "youngest Dr Who in history". I have to grudgingly admit that David Tennant was the best Doctor since William Hartnell (younger readers try Googling him), he seemed to be able to invoke the original horror and fear that had us all cowering behind the settee whilst maintaining the humour of the character.
Christmas found us a somewhat disparate family. FabAl was in Dorset enjoying icy, crisp weather and a wind coming in off the see that cut you off at teh knees and rendered any bare flesh numb within a matter of minutes. After a good yomp across the cliffs a return to the warmth of Hive Beach Cafe was very welcome. The bright sun and Christmas cheer had brought out a surprisingly large number of people and all the seats inside were taken so I joined the dog walkers at the tables outside. The marshmallows on top of my steaming hot chocolate immediately disappeared across the Atlantic, no doubt a Christmas treat for a passing gull. Mrs Claus had to work over Christmas so stayed at home with Jetski Boy who had a virtual Christmas, returning to reality only to take on board food and drink as needed. Bodybuilder was in Devon and then Wales, yomping in his own way through woods and across fields at the dead of night with someone called Florence who he would have us believe has four legs. The other four legged one, Hugh, enjoyed Christmas in his own way including one extended walk with Mrs Prim and Proper. On Christmas Eve Mrs Claus and I had drinks and nibbles with Mrs Prim and Proper underneath a trade Christmas tree but the promised purple dreadlocks did not make an appearance.
So, what does 2009 hold for us all. For Mrs Claus and FabAl it should be a pilgrimage to Israel. As I said to some of our party this morning, not to worry, they declared war just before we went last time and we all came home safe and sound (with the exception of one German tourist shot dead at Gethsemane but we try not to think about that). Then of course there was that unfortunate incident in Sri Lanka when the Tamil Tigers declared war whilst we were there! I don't think it was personal. For Bodybuilder and JetskiBoy it should see completed college courses and who knows, maybe even a foray into the world of work. FabAl will continue to pretend he knows what he is doing as Chief Executive of EM (no one has rumbled him yet).
A very happy new year to my reader and maybe you might be joined by others during the year.