All done and dusted

Obviously not literally cos dusting is housework and that's pants and I don't bother with that.

But Christmas is all over (in case you hadn't noticed) for another year. Thank goodness.

Jonathan excelled himself again spending a whole £6.50 on something I wanted (Chris Moyles book - half price), and a couple(literally) more quid on stuff I really didn't want at all.

Leona Lewis (X-factor winner) new single? Hello!!!!! Why would I want that? I don't like ballads, I don't like that genre of female singers. I grant you she has a fabulous voice but I also appreciate Leonard Cohen is a poet and I still wouldn't want anything of his.

He complains I never give him any clues.

This year for the first time, I printed of a Christmas list of ideas, at my family's behest, it wasn't greedy (I don't think) and it wasn't excessive for 3 people to pick things off.

4 CDs
1 DVD
2 Books

Theo got me 2 of the CDs - thank you, that's lovely sweetie x x

Jonathan got me one of the books - thank you.

And then he got me 2 CDs I didn't want (including the Leona Lewis one) and a book I didn't want.

Why? Why does he do this year after year after year?

Then he sulks because I look bewildered while I struggle to work out why he's bought me these things. I'm mean for the same amount of (very little) outlay he could have got me the other book I wanted, or the DVD, or the Scissor Sisters CD and then I would have been delighted at a) my gift and b) that he'd actually bothered to listen and taken into account my taste and request.

And that's what hurts the most. He doesn't bother to listen. And he hasn't bothered over the last 25 years to notice my taste in things.

I bought him (amongst other stuff) some Levis - he'll only have zip flies so a bit trickier to get these days. He opened them, he looked delighted, He said 'how did you know I wanted some?' To which I replied, 'Well for the last couple of months you've been saying you need some Levis and you don't know where to get them from. I listened to what you wanted, and I put effort into finding some.'

He went to the supermarket on the 23rd and got whatever was kicking around, basically. One year all (3 of) my gifts came from Sainsbury's Homebase, bought at 4.00pm on Christmas Eve - well that's what it said on the receipt that was in with one gift (maybe the burger fridge magnet?)

I don't want vast amounts of cash spending on me, what I would really like is just a little bit of thought and effort.

To add insult to injury my sister gave me an apron I'd given her husband last year. Did she think I wouldn't notice?

An elephant never forgets.........

Bah, humbug

Well the shopping is shopped, the presents are wrapped, the cards are written (apart from the neighbours which I do about 5 o'clock on Christmas Eve, traditionally) and all is well.

All I have to do is boil Theo's eggs for his egg mayonnaise sandwiches and cook Ysabella's sausages and that's Christmas lunch sorted.

All I need to worry about now are the exams and assessments that are due straight after Christmas. Grrrrrr.

Although there is another thing that is blighting my Christmas. For years he was postioned on the lamp post at the end of our road. Last year he was at the bottom of Station Road. For some bizarre reason, this year, he was outside the Methodist church, and then, mysteriously he was gone and replaced by a flashing Christmas bauble.

Wanking Santa has disappeared and I'm gutted.

Venting my spleen

There may be some words and sentiments in this blog that are offensive, so be warned, you have the chance to go away now.

Jonathan has just been to visit his dad who is in an old people's home. His dad has kidney failure and has dialysis 3 times a week, and keeps falling and breaking bones, so living on his own is neither a safe nor viable option. (Although this has sod all to do with this blog really.)

As the kids haven't seen him all year - because they really don't like him and the way he has treated me - I paid them £10 each as a bribe to go too.

They took the present I had bought him and the card I had written.

When they came back Jonathan had a cheque for the 'family' for Christmas. £75. Hmmm. There are 4 in this family so was he intending it to be £18.75 each? Oh no he fucking wasn't. It was intended as £25 each for Jonathan and the 2 kids.

The fucking, miserable twat. Now don't get me wrong, it certainly isn't the money, it's the principle. Who does he think has shopped for, paid for and wrapped his (and Jonathan's mums) birthday and Christmas presents for the last 25+ years?

Who does he think nags Jonathan to go visit him, who does he think nags the kids (and today actually bribed with real money) to visit him?

Yes, it's fucking muggins - me.

In 1999 he told me he never wanted to see me again, and I having (rather willingly) obliged. He told me his wife never liked me, and neither did he, I said 'Do you think I hadn't noticed?'

He's been nasty to me. He's been even nastier to Jonathan. Despite my feelings towards him, I do think Jonathan and the kids should keep in touch, and thanks to my efforts they do.

But this bloody Christmas cheque has really fucked me off big time. Ok, he's done exactly the same for the last 5-6 Christmases so I shouldn't be surprised, but really it has made me both very upset and angry this year. Maybe I'm hormonal - who knows.

But, I'd just like to say this. Hurry up and die your miserable old fucker. And I hope you suffer. You've blighted my husband's life for 50 years, and while you still had you 'hold' over Jonathan you made my life hell, and indirectly my kids' lives, too.

You are the most hypocritical, mean-spirited , evil person I know. I hate the way you have made me have these sort of feelings, because I am not a nasty person, but I cannot tolerate the way you have made my loved ones suffer.

You liked to tout yourself as a Christian but I've never seen anyone less Christian in my life. You were so sulky that your batchelor friend left all his money to charity and only left you a picture 'after all I've done for him' you said - erm, a couple of visits and a couple of Sunday lunches? Like you needed the cash! You were evil and contolling to Jonathan's mother and repayed her devotion by shitting on her. I was nearly sick at her funeral with your demonstrations of grief - more like no-one to wait on you hand and foot.

I could go on and on, so I'll cut it short

Rot in hell, Harry D. You're scum.

Good news, or bad news?

Last night we went to Paul and Margaret's Silver Wedding anniversary party (many congratulations you 2).

I've know Paul for 27 years, did my computer programmer training with him, cos that's what we were called back then, developing was for photographs. Anyway, both Jonathan and I have known them both a bloody long time. But these days we don't see them, their 2 kids (who have grown into truly delightful adults) or their huge, extended family very often these days.

So, we hadn't seen a lot of the folk there for years and years, some even 20 years. The number of people that told me I hadn't changed a bit was kind of scary. So what does this mean?

It could be one of two things, either:

a) I still look young and fresh and delicious

or

b) 20 years ago I was a grey-haired wrinkled old hag

Hmmm, whilst I would love it to be a) I can't help but think it was probably b).

All I want for Christmas

I know I should say world peace and an end to hunger in LEDC (which, I have learnt from my 11 year old are Less Economically Developed Countries - are they next door to the third world?) but obviously I want those things like any half decent human being does.

I'll tell you what I want, what I really, really want.

(So tell me what you want, what you really, really want.)

I wanna, I wanna, I wanna.......a son who realises which side his bread is buttered......who appreciates how bright he actually is......who appreciates that 'things' have been bought somewhere down the line by someone who put effort into earning the money to pay for them.......who comes to his senses, before it's too late, and puts some effort into his GCSE years......who realises that I'm on his side......

who knows how much I love him

What a twat.

Well it's 6.50 am and I've been awake since 4.05 am. And I'm tired and my head hurts.

It's not that I couldn't sleep, it's just that someone woke me up.

My phone rang and I answered it and it was Phil, one of the students I'm working in a team with. I'm guessing he was pissed cos I couldn't understand a word he was saying apart from asking if I'd got his text message saying he couldn't make it to the meeting this morning.

Well I had, and replied to it, and then he replied to that so he bloody well knew I'd got it. He then said something about being committed to the project (so how about turning up on time for meetings then mate?) and this phone call proved it.

It certainly proved something.

Anyway, I said ha ha very funny, or something along those lines, and then set off on the return journey to the land of nod. I was about 2" away when the bloody phone rang again. This time 'Private Number' so I cancelled the call and put my phone on silent. Good job I did too because then I ended up with 8 missed calls, as I found out when I eventaully gave up and came downstairs at 5.20.

I listened to the voice mail, another pissed person saying something about billy bear...... Hmmm, guessing Phil is billy bear, but why I have no idea, and I'm certain I don't really care.

So for the last hour and a half I have been plotting my revenge (like ringing him at 9.30am - ha ha, that'd wake HIM up) before realising that there's absolutely no point whatsoever cos I don't want middle-of-the-night phone calls for the rest of my life.

Arsehole.

How did that happen?

It's December, and not even the first, it's the second, which means it's Christmas in 3 weeks and 2 days.

I've barely given it a thought. I suppose I'll have to do something about presents and cards and crap like that. Nightmare. Why can't I be as organised a my sister Singing Sarah? She has everything bought and wrapped and all the cards written by February - and that really isn't far off the truth. Which is just a tad anal if you ask me. Other sister, who's usually worse than me, is really organised this year, but then she's due to give birth December the 20 something.

On the plus side Theo wants egg mayonnaise sandwiches for Christmas dinner, and Ysabella says she wants sausages, wrapped in bacon, on sticks. Jonathan says both of those sound good to him, and I'd be happy with a bowl of luxury muesli.

So that's the catering side sorted.