I said to myself I'd take a little Christmas holiday from the blog but then I got a dose of the guilts after the page views shot up on Monday from bored people looking for their Monday fix.
I have to say that this Christmas was the best Christmas I had in years. Needless to say, like countless others, I regard Christmas dinner as the best dinner of the year, because of its ability to be doused in brown sauce, but THIS year's Christmas dinner (courtesy of my sister-in-law) ...well. Well. As a good friend of mine said the other night - I didn't know whether to eat it or ride it!
Surprisingly enough though, nobody pissed themselves, so no bottom-half showers were necessary. That didn't take away from the holiday however, which was just gorgeous and laid back. At least it was when Grandad wasn't trying to bend my finger back so far he nearly broke it. Or throwing Rose wrappers at me and then pretending to be asleep when I turned around. Or indeed pretending to drink a cup of tea next to me when really he was ramming his elbow into my ribcage and lettin on he wasn't. I loves him I does.
Of course my lovely Uncle Paddy (or Paddy the Prick as he is otherwise known - see here) came for his Christmas/Birthday dinner too. Except this year he said the wrong thing. Now I mean the wrong thing. As he was leaving he said to Grandad "I hope we'll be here next year." Now lads. Anyone who knows me knows that Grandad is my number one man, and the very mention of his age or the fact that he is pushin on at all reduces me to a weeping wretch. But as most of you don't know me, you can read about my feelings for Grandad here. Immediately the tears sprang to my eyes and I was trying to say goodbye to Paddy with them streaming down my cheeks, snot flying everywhere. Stop lads, me nerves. And of course here was Grandad munchin away on a bowl of trifle, happy as Larry on the couch, completely oblivious to what was going on. Shur God love him like.
Another thing that has been playing on my mind lately is how BBB is doing his trials for the Marines in April. All well and good, except literally every single magazine I open has some feature article about young war widows or "hero" soldiers and marines dying in Afghanistan or Iraq.
Now I am as soft hearted as they come, and I have always said I'd never marry a soldier or a sailor, because there is no way I am sitting at home worrying myself half to death about whether or not my husband is coming home in a box. Imagine me. I'm a bag of nerves even now with my Trinity scholarship and peachy life, imagine me if I actually had something to worry about!!! Stop now, I wouldn't be able.
Shur of course all he has to say about it is "I have loads of friends who came back alive, I'll be grand". Like all 19 year olds, he thinks he is invincible. He doesn't understand that it doesn't matter how big and strong you are, or how good a fighter you are - the landmines aren't going to come kickboxing at you! It's a battle between flesh and metal like, and guess what side you're on, Love?! But shur it's his dream and I just have to let on to be supportin him like. I mean there is no way he won't get in, he is really fit and really strong, so now I just have to work on my game face for when he tells me he gets in. "Oh did you that's great! Congratulations! I just have to go to the ladies room...for three hours...with this drip."
On the upside I'll be headin back next Friday. Back to our hovel. And our broken oven. And SNOW!!! Can't wait!
Well the end of another year is upon us and I have to say I'm looking forward to the next one. I wish ye all the very best for 2010. May ye all laugh so hard a bit of wee comes out! May bottom-half showers abound!
All the best until next week lads!