Diary...

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Well, I've done it again.

Every November, I make myself promise that I will pace myself in December and not say 'yes' to every single invite I happen to get.

We are not even in December yet, but I am already signed up for five Christmas parties, and my pocket diary looks like a spider has jumped into an inkwell and done the lambada across it.  Any empty space is rapidly being eaten up by various Christmas invites.  Throw in a couple of afternoons helping out at my gorgeous friend Emma's fab shop, some blood donation, a sneaky facial, an oven clean (long overdue as having to use a torch to see if my chicken is cooked as the lightbulb is thickly covered in gunk) and an appointment at the hospital for someone to take a look at my stupid knee, and there is little time for anything else before Christmas Day.

We have a full house this year.  My lovely sister in law and her beau are down for a week or so, and I something between sixteen and eighteen for dinner.  Naturally, we don't have enough chairs and this is the one job which I give the husband each year.  

The hiring of the chairs.  

This sounds a pretentious, but once I have 'persuaded' the husband to set up the big round table which sits on top of my usual one, there is very little space left for chairs taking up more than fifteen inches floor space.  This may all sound a bit pernickety, but having had Christmas lunches with some people sitting in the lounge I am now well versed in how many people can sit around my Christmas table.  One year, we had four unexpected people turn up for lunch, and we all had to lift our forks to our mouths in unison like some synchronized dinner party to avoid having our neighbour's eye out whilst grappling for some room.

Today, we have had a quiet day.  Just me,the husband and the dogs going for a two hour woofer walk and a lovely pub lunch.  We got home and this was rapidly followed up with...

Just the husband and the dogs snoring in front of the fire.
And just me and the ironing (two weeks worth to my shame and horror)

Who'd be a wife...


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