Merry Christmas everyone! Sorry I didnt mention it yesterday, but I was too busy setting up a new MS project application to track how I'd cook Christmas Lunch. Lunch. Lunch isnt an expansive enough word to describe the two starters, fifteen veg and four meat main course, and choice-of-seven puddings I'd managed to cook up (SWMBO only helping out in the last five minutes because she wanted cauliflower and cheese. Cauliflowers look like a bleached human brain, and the cheese sauce is normally used to glue space-shuttle tiles back on, so I'd refused to learn how to make it).
Phew. Some five hours in the kitchen, four loads through the dishwasher (and its a *big* dishwasher. Does *yours* have four seats and power steering?), and finally its over. My diabetic coma disappeared as soon as Wallace and Gromits new feature came on. Was it good ? Yes it was *fantastic*. See it. And afterwards, we watched the tail end of the Top Gear repeat, where the three stooges drive cars with 'Man Love Rules OK', 'Nascar Sucks' and 'Country and Western is Rubbish' written on the side. And get stoned in Alabana. Not in a nice way stoned.
So here am I, hiding at the other end of the house on the pretence of finding a minature screwdriver so I can put batteries into my remote controlled 'Yellow Submarine'. Ace. So why am I hiding ?
SWMBO, her mother and the sprog (sans Veggie boy - he's not made an appearance at the house in a while, so I'm going to scoff the bottle of booze I bought him - son, you gotta collect in person, savvy?) are all on the sofa. Watching Mama Mia. Yes I bought it for SWMBO, but only on the strict instructions that I had to be in a another continent when she watched it. Sigh. Women. Fickle beasts.
I mean, Abba. I dont dislike them. And I've seen some hideous movies and musicals in my time. Christ, I saw Cats three times (do I get a medal?). But. Mama Mia. No wonder she let me watch a bit of Top Gear.
Lets make a serious point here: A husband isnt just for Christmas Lunch. A husband is for Life.