First things first. It’s cold. Last week was all crunchy grass and frosty leaves but Oh So Pretty.
Yesterday, it snowed, settled, got sprinkled with rain then froze overnight. It’s slips, trips and falls hazard-central so my Christmas fat arse and sofa are best friends and likely to stay that way all of today.
Christmas was lovely. Chris Rea was still driving home for Christmas. It always takes him a devil of a time. I noted he’s from Middlesborough in the UK and checked the AA Traffic News: said he had clear roads ahead so hope it was an easy drive. I really think it’s about time his family visited him for a change.
Watched a YT video and laughed at a Nativity play where one of the sheep nicked baby Jesus to give him a big squeeze just as a little drummer boy turned up to bang his drum to honour the birth. Poor Mary.
Trundled about on a donkey for hours, laboured and delivered on some sheepy-fellows dungy straw then, while not looking her Instagram best, visited by kings and shepherds… only to have some little bo**ocks with a drum turn up and bang away when I bet all she wanted was a cup of tea and a lie down. Magic of Christmas, eh?!
My ‘best’ present was a bag of organic seaweed, hand-harvested from a beach in Connemara. All packaged nicely. Seaweed in a net bag. Apparently, you throw it in a bath and sit and soak in the seaweedy water that becomes infused with lots of rejuvenating and age-reversing minerals. More Christmas Magic!
So I tried it. Dear God. The smell. Fr Jessop in Fr Jack’s underpants hamper couldn’t have suffered as much as I did. Mysterious dark bits managed to escape the netty bag and float around looking suspiciously like dried insects or other organic matter. Had the Connemara beach been formally awarded Blue Flag status?
But, the smell was the worst of it. Like bathing in a mens’ public urinal. Mr Monday came to investigate the smell wondering if we had backed-up sewer problems. The atmospheric urea content made our hair curl. The packaging claimed the seaweed could be dried and used again, not something I would ever repeat so we decided to use it as fertiliser on the garden and get that s*it out of there. After a shower and me all freshened up, we had a good laugh – shits and giggles!
Changing the subject, I stumbled upon a pretty paper cutting project on YT:
I downloaded the template and hot-foiled it – along with a bird-spinner pattern that Maarit was giving away:
But back to goal-achieving and getting on with academic stuff. Tomorrow. Cats don’t do the ‘W’ word and nor do I, at least not on a Monday.
So, to all of you going back to work, hope it’s not too bad. It’s a new year. 2025 budgets have been approved and there’ll be loads of places hiring. Brush up your CV and shake your tail. Good luck and hope this year brings us all lots of happiness. Make something brilliant of yourself!
No More Mondays 