It’s odd. 4th December and I’ve done quite half of the family Christmas present shopping. Both grandchildren, husband and two children pretty well sorted. Three children and one sister to go. This is unprecedented – added to my Extreme Accountancy of yesterday and I’m almost tempted to believe that I’m starting to become sensible. Surely not. It is not the way I want to be … or maybe it is …. I don’t know, it doesn’t fit in with my mental image of the ‘free child’*, who has no need to plan ahead because it’s far more fun to wing it on the day; on the other hand December is a fearfully busy month, try as I do to catch up with things so that I can take time off with a clear conscience, fit in as many jollies as possible, fill remaining evenings with making up holly wreaths for Al to sell (this is my most hated job and I do it purely from selfless maternal duty) and help him in the shop as we near the Final Shopping Day as the week before Christmas is the busiest in the year for a greengrocer – and so, each year, I bemoan the fact that I still have all the shopping to do in mid-December. So, if I can keep this going, I will be pleased with myself, but I will feel as if a little bit of carefreeness has vanished from the Z personality.
I also, sensibly, took myself to the osteopath to get my hip ultrasounded. He was a bit surprised to see me as he said bursitis shouldn’t really come back – I explained that it had never quite gone away as my patience did not return me enough times for a complete cure. Nevertheless, once it’s better he intends to check that the joint is all right. Which it is. As long as I can still switch on the light, at shoulder level, with my foot (which I can, I just went to check), my joints are fine.
I also booked train tickets to London. I have been explaining the use of the Oyster card to the Sage, who is concerned that its intricacies might be beyond him, as he has to go on business (and also a bit of pleasure, as he bid successfully for a vesta (Victorian matchcase) at a London saleroom and he needs to pick it up) on Wednesday of next week – ooh, what will I do all by myself for a whole day? – and I am meeting my sister for a Day Out on the Saturday. This is probably not a good idea at all, because it will be vastly crowded, but we intend to do Cultural Things at museums and stuff, so maybe we’ll be all right. A long and boozy lunch is indicated, for sure.
A meeting tomorrow morning, for which I have prepared rather less than half the things I promised. An evening’s work ahead of me, I fear; or, rather, a night’s, as I’m going out for a drink with a friend in a couple of hours.
*Those of you who actually know me are, I appreciate, laughing like drains right now. Look, I never quite got over 1969, all right? Not that I was ever a hippy.