IT'S the eve of Christmas Eve and my "bah humbug" attitude to the festive season is mellowing, although if I hear Johnny Mathis singing When A Child Is Born one more time I might just be forced to insert the offending CD into the offending person's orifice.
Yesterday we finished work early. I was taken out to lunch, then back in the office drank a celebratory glass of champagne - all very civilised.
Today my sister told me she had rearranged her kitchen cupboards so that everything was in alphabetical order. I was dumbstruck with admiration and not a little surprised; she's not usually that well organised. It's all because her son, who is a brilliant cook, will be cooking Christmas dinner. She will be acting as kitchen assistant and, if previous years are anything to go by, there will a constant stream of "can you pass me the balsamic vinegar", "do you have celery salt?" "I need some five spice" and so on and so on. The alphabetic arrangement is "so that I don't spend half the day with my bum sticking out of a cupboard".
Life is so much easier if you are organised.
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