Sunday, December 25, 2011

Ho, ho, ho

So, this is Christmas.

Prudence, clinging to her German upbringing, insists on having Christmas on Christmas Eve. Besides, the candles look lovely, it's cooler and much more of a party atmosphere in which to drink too much champagne.

Beloved, on the other hand, is English, and quite put out at the thought of opening presents the night before, insisting on waiting not only until Christmas morning, but after coffee.

Among her haul of both sparkly and very useful presents, Prudence is now in possession of a box of very vintage toilet paper.

Yay for family who really get her.

Wednesday, December 21, 2011

Out of the mouths of...

At one of the new job's Christmas dos last week (there are four - can you imagine?), a young colleague, fortified with a glass or two of sherbert sat opposite Prudence, grinning.

"So," he started, "what do you do for fun, Prudence?

"Make jam?"

And Prudence was utterly obliged to say yes.

A most perspicacious young man.

Who also happened to buy a couple of Prudence's preserves as a Christmas present for his mother.

He'll go far.

Monday, December 12, 2011

Reason for the season

Despite being an avowed atheist, Prudence rather likes Christmas. (The most interesting people are contradictory, n'est-ce pas?)

Being blissfully free of relatives, she's free to enjoy those of Beloved, who are a wonderfully eccentric lot, and to lavish food and presents on dear friends. All care and no responsibility.

Of course there are decisions to be made - generally nice ones - but this one raised an eyebrow:

"
One of the most important decisions you and your family will need to make is what sort of Christmas tree to have."

Which, one supposes, could cause some familial consternation, although, presumably, much less than which bubbly to buy, or what to serve the vegetarians for entree.

It appears the people at Yates (from whom this preposterous sentence landed in Prudence's inbox) are far more concerned with the plastic -v- live -v- cut and shedding needles dilemma.

One does hope it gets sorted out in time.

Friday, December 2, 2011

Brown paper packages

Beloved called, sounding, well, bemused.

"I've just had a box delivered to me at work," he began.

Prudence: "Mmmm?"

Beloved: "It's addressed to me, at work, and it's got six bottles of whiskey in it."

Prudence: "I never get boxes like that."

Beloved: "Did you order it?"

Prudence: "No. "

Beloved: "There's no note or card or anything and it's from [enormous discount liquor chain]."

Prudence: "That's a pretty cool mystery."

Sadly, it turned out to have been sent by head office in Sydney and the bottles were presents for Beloved's top clients.

A most unsatisfactory solution to the mystery.