Christmas with a difference.

This is the full chrissie deco plan for this year.

Yep all the lovely bits that I carefully pack up each January and shove in 3 big boxes are taped up and ready for moving so about a week ago my girl presented me with these two drunken Santa salt and pepper shakers so there'd be some christmas cheer, where ever we land, even if it is wee. And on our way to coffee one morning this week or maybe last week, seriously time has been passing in a blurr, like a many many double voddies blurr, we saw these other lovely fellas at the florist and Stevie just plopped 'em on the table as a cool surprise and everyone who walked by commented on the resemblances. I am hoping that I am meant to be the red headed one although the greying beardy one is possibly the way I am feeling.

Christmas is just percolating away in the back of my head cos the front part is filled with cartons and chucking shit out. Stevie said yesterday he was gonna start calling me his little Portia. Well I heard Portia but he meant Porche and he then explained the link - Porche Boxster cos I always seem to have my head wedged in a carton. Anyway, I am hoping that by some sort of osmosis that unfortunately I do not believe in, by the 25th, I will have somehow managed to pull together a grand feast and at least some silly bits and pieces to wrap and then go the big rip. The obscene pile of brightly wrapped stuff will not be under the nonexistent tree this year. I reckon some IOUs might find their way into the custody of the gnomes and the drunken jolly Santas.

And that's OK. Cos what I am most excited about is that the kids 'll be able to pop over in the afternoon, without the stress of a drive which my girl does not enjoy, AT ALL. We can hit the pool and eat stuff and be silly and then they can trundle off home again. And everyone can sleep in their own bed and then if the kids want to pop back the next day and the next day, it's only a few minute's drive and if I want to drop something off to them or take dog for a visit to play with my Darling Boy, then it's not a whole day out and 'have I got enough petrol?' and 'I hope there is no smash on the M1 today!' 

Yeh I am getting very excited about 'going home'.

It's been 17 years since I lived in Brisvegas  and that's quite a long time, and I have been very happy laying my hat in different places for all these years, cos at heart I reckon I am truly a gypsy.

I was gonna say I love moving, but that's just bullshit. NOONE loves moving, it's a royal pain in the arse, but I do love exploring new houses and places and seeking out the best coffee and the freshest veg and the friendliest restaurants with the tastiest food, and the galleries and the theatres and, well stuff.

And all this exploring will still be necessary, even though I am going home, cos the place has sure changed. It's daunting and maybe a little tiring thinking about it all, but mostly it's exciting.

Roll on next week when the packing is finished and the boxes are delivered and our backs are to the fucking road works and we are tripping down a new street looking for a place that makes good coffee and of course is happy for Dog to sit at our feet. Yep Roll on indeed.