This morning whilst I was walking the dog, L made me breakfast. Toasted crumpets, a warm mince pie, a pint of tea and this plate of treats:
It was amazing, but I am troubled. Has he been expelled? Is he pregnant? And should he really be using the oven in my absence (no, toaster and telly are the only permissible appliances when I am not there)?
Your advent calendar news (attention: poor late night photography) is as follows:
This, a repeat of the earlier magnet, is a small mirror. It is actually moderately useful.
There is .. well, it's displayed like mistletoe but it has red berries, so I suppose holly, on the Etsy calendar.
Absolutely nothing has happened today. L, invalid style, only got dressed for about 3 hours and did not leave the house at all. He spent much of the afternoon lying face down on the sofa watching "Kirstie's Homemade Christmas" and has developed a burning desire to make his own candy canes. "Does it require a sugar thermometer?" "Yes" "Then no, you can wait 'til we get to Prog Rock's". Poor Prog Rock, my sister and her friend are also hatching a plan to make the world's largest gingerbread house in his kitchen. It's a far cry from his usual regime of lentil soup/roll up/Le Monde Diplomatique, but I suppose that is what Christmas is for, to bully your family members out of their comfort zones.
It's nearly 11 and I was hoping to work tonight, but instead L and I have watched Derren Brown. Doom (it was fun though). I've probably got time for about two lines before I slump into terminal stupidity.