a) We are travelling back overnight on 24th - will Father Christmas have to deliver to the boat, like something from the Raymond Briggs version (pointless parenthesis - does Father Christmas have a weepette? Check your copy, I am sure it is)
b) Since I had my driver's licence stolen, how on earth am I going to hire a car?
Fail factor of 100.
Next, I call a dog person and end up committed to taking the weepette and children out to the arse end of nowhere at an extravagantly inconvenient time tomorrow, so they can check whether the weepette is a vicious killer. I consider, alternatively, putting a pair of long felt ears on the weepette and depositing him discreetly in the nativity scene in the Grand Place as an extra-malnourished donkey.
Thirdly, I realise that my failure to book a ticket at a reasonable time for Craftacular means that Eurostar will probably eat all my profit. Not that I have calculated how to make a profit. Or had any coherent thoughts on the subject at all. My poor "business" partner had to video chat me through biscuit box dimensions yesterday when I was so hungover I kept spontaneously weeping and Lashes kept thrusting his head in my face and roaring. I will have to go to the station to buy at ticket because my papier-mâché credit card has disintegrated, but the only time I can go is when I am taking weepette to be vetted for sociopathic tendencies.
Fourthly I spend much of yesterday crying with exhaustion and crapness and the spawn were so excited by the arrival of jolly St Nicolas, the 6 to 8 black men and their regime of terror and cruelty, that they woke at 3 and 5 this morning before finally alighting on my head at 7 screeching about the inadequacy of their gifts. As a result, we are spending today like this:
I'm the tartan pancake Ektorping to the right. My skin tone today is Farrow and Ball Romanian Orphan, with a touch of Heritage Consumptive Glaswegian.
Activities have included: eating chocolate coins, watching shit films about stab-inducingly cute dogs in space and whining for help from the CFO to build Lego. If I manage to be sufficiently productive even to put the bins out it will be a miracle.
However to compensate for this, the better half of my brain has done me a GUEST POST. It's about our epic Craftacular preparations, which she has actually been doing while I mainly whine about not doing them. Yes yes yes. So if you come back a bit later, you can discover the dark side of craft including actual photos and stuff. Also, please vote in the poll because commenter Fran has bloody well fixed it so that I have to make actual food with the turnips. Do not let this travesty of justice stand.