Here we are the week before Halloween and unbelievably there is a card shop (one of the big chains) in a local main town with their Christmas cards on sale. What is the problem with that? Nothing........................what is a problem is the Easter cards that are for sale alongside them. In the name of all things holy (a category which I guess Christmas and Easter fall into) what is that all about?
Every so often I revert to reading children’s books for a bit of nostalgia and have just worked my way through the boxed sets of ‘Malory Towers’ and ‘St Clare’s’ stories about life in girls boarding schools. As a child I was rather envious of my friend Caroline who had all these books and several shelves of other great titles – her father worked for the publishing company involved in producing them so naturally she had a full collection of exciting books. Anyway, I was really looking forward to some wonderful tales but soon realised Enid Blyton had her put her own twist on the goings on in such schools. The ways in which the teachers speak to (and about) the girls is shocking and the amount of bullying between the pupils is equally repulsive. Oh what a shame these schools were not subjected to the rules and regulations of Ofsted................they would have been closed down and never allowed to re-open. They make the inner city schools of today who are operating on ‘special measures’ look like Eton. Not only that, but Enid’s plot writing was revealed as rather limited with virtually identical situations and characters in the two series of books. Oh well, never mind, at last I have finally got around to reading them!
The clocks go back this weekend which has brought the usual doom and gloom response from my Dad...............”the dark nights are a waste of time, you can’t do anything, it is cold and miserable”. This is followed closely by “when I was a boy we had double summer time and it was daylight until 11 o’clock every night”. Anyone would think that during the long summer evenings he is out in the garden until nightfall, when in reality he is generally to be found settled down in his armchair hiding behind the Daily Telegraph marking up items for my Mum to read later (that is of course when he is not reading out the entire paper to her whilst she is trying to watch her soap operas). I have to agree though that the hour going back is rubbish and I am all for abolishing it in favour of adopting European time (and European chocolate cake, but that is another story).
Christmas shopping is due to start this weekend to get ahead of the total madness of the last five weeks leading up to the big day. My list is prepared on a spreadsheet as usual so hopefully a few bargains around the shops will leap into my trolley, self wrap, and deliver themselves to Lapland to Santa can pop them on his sleigh in good time for dropping them down the relevant chimneys. I might include a bag of homemade biscuits for the portly chap in a red suit as he must get peckish on his round the world expedition.
Talking of which, my brother and his girlfriend are bringing their holiday snaps for viewing on Sunday. Apparently they took around 200 in the end which is about 190 more than they usually take but nowhere near the amount I end up with. Perhaps I should bowl up with mine plus accompanying video, lock the door and insist they watch them too. Copious amounts of black coffee and Red Bull should keep them awake. Failing that I will have to keep poking their legs with cocktail sticks.
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