In my experience it’s very rarely accompanied by flashes, bangs, glitter, fireworks, gasps, or small white animals.
Instead, it’s usually a tingling – a circle of pins and needles at the top of my head.
That’s how I know when magic is near me.
I’ve felt it many times in my life. When I’ve written the perfect sentence. When I’ve held a baby. When I’ve laughed myself silly over something. When I’ve done something, or seen something, or felt something AMAZING. When I’ve witnessed incredible coincidence. When disparate parts have suddenly fallen together perfectly.
That’s magic.
A cold knowing.
A bubble of happy, at the moment of burst.
Hairs raised on your arms, on the inside and the outside.
Magic, for me, has become rarer as I’ve gotten older.
The problem (and weirdly, the gift) of experience is the perspective it gives you on small moments as part of a wider picture – so whatever you’re experiencing isn’t so all-consuming. And while the pain isn’t as world-endingly acute as when you’re a child, for instance, the magic isn’t quite as bright either. Not when put into your now bigger context.
But every now and again, I still find a small pocket of magic.
Usually when I’m not looking.
And I found one the other day on Channel 4.
Now. I don’t watch that much telly, partly because I don’t have the time, and partly because my telly watching is done with small children in tow, and as they’ve become bigger it’s actually gotten worse. Although they could theoretically now watch things I actually want to watch, they don’t want to, and now they’re up later in the evening so they’re eating into my solo TV time. (In fact we’re fast approaching the moment when the Big Small’s bedtime will be after mine).
So anyway, all in all I managed to miss the now very old documentary about that time they dug King Richard III up from a car park in Leicester.
I remember seeing it on the news.
What I don’t remember is quite how mad the whole thing was…
So here’s the basics, in case this passed you by, too, or you’ve forgotten because it was so long ago.
Some brilliantly bonkers woman with a weird fan-crush on Richard III did a bunch of research on where his body ended up, and managed to persuade people at the University of Leicester to dig up a social services car park, which she believed was the site of an old friary.
She is joined in this random quest at various points by various academics who clearly think she’s as mad as a hatter, the most comically camp local historian ever to have unwittingly impersonated John Inman, Simon Farnaby of Horrible Histories and Ghosts fame, and, importantly, SIMON FARNABY’S HAIR – which is so moppily huge, out of control and genuinely charismatic it deserved it’s own billing on the credits.
So this unlikely crew rock up to this car park, pick a spot which is randomly emblazoned with the letter R (for Richard or possibly Reserved, we don’t know) and start digging. They literally find his skeleton in the first trench they dig, within the first ten minutes of the documentary.
He’s even got clear scoliosis (the curvature of the spine for which he’s famous) – which greatly upsets the bonkers lady as she’s convinced herself (and her obsessive online fan club) that this was all a propaganda myth perpetrated by the Tudors stealing his throne. There are actual tears!
The scene where Bonkers Lady and Camp Historian reverently remove the cardboard-boxed remains from the grave, draped in a flag of Richard III’s colours – and then shove it in the footwell of a crappy car – all under the withering gaze of the academics, is one to behold, and indeed to treasure.
The next hour and a half is devoted to them gradually unearthing more and more evidence that against all likelihood, sense and expectation this IS in fact the real Richard, via actual historical evidence and even the DNA of his 17th generation cabinet-maker grandson. (!!!)
And the very best bit is watching all of these highly-educated professors slowly having to admit this random crazy woman, all her conspiracy theories and the tingle she got in the car park – WERE ACTUALLY RIGHT ALL ALONG.
It is pure gold.
And surely, SURELY, a little bit of magic.
Certainly, I got a bit of a tingle. (Though that could have been the Sauvignon Blanc).
So if magic is a commodity you are running low on, if you love a good coincidence, and/or celebrating Britain’s eccentrics, if you need to believe the world is bigger and better and more organised than it currently looks, this is well worth your time.
Even if you’re a few years behind everyone else on it.
Even if you don’t believe in magic anymore.
The really important bit, I find, is just to keep on looking for it.
In all the littlest, oldest, and almost forgotten places.
There are four small, mid-blue squares. In between each one is a navy fleck, creating a cross. There is a dot in the middle, forming the centre of a miniature window. Undulating fields of them spread outwards forever, hypnotically consistent. They are so tiny and so regular they become gaping chasms – and I fall into one after another, over and over again.
It is the pattern of a hospital gown.
I wore this gown once, and held the little, incredible hand of a very new baby, drinking in her details with my eyes and her breaths with my ears, forgetting my own, counting the seconds between, living years in the gaps – until I am only eyes and only ears and only hope and only despair detached from all other senses, floating, waiting, counting, falling.
In.
Out.
Now my dad is wearing this same gown.
They are turning the machines down, and off. And again I am listening, straining to hear that next breath, waiting, waiting. I am holding his hand, too. I have held this hand many times. And I am here, marvelling at the familiar spots and lines and creases, baulking at the unfamiliar tubes, resting on endless horizons and horizons of windows.
And in the spaces between, getting longer, the breaths, getting shorter, I am tipping over their sills and into their pale panes – down into memories and stories and bits I’ve filled in for myself all mixed up, like dreams.
In.
There is a small boy with a distended tummy and spindly limbs, who looks like a Toad because he is very poorly.
Out.
He is a bespectacled student who is half cocky and who twists his tongue between his teeth as he picks at his nails, but will never know he does this.
In.
He is a husband who will always like his womenfolk spiky and clever and funny, who wore a pink shirt and a Beatles haircut on his wedding day that I only know from pictures, who plays and challenges and shows up.
Out.
He is a dad, with two small blonde girls playing crackadown bridge on the floor, talking long walks in the woods with a dog he pretends not to like, but laughs and laughs when she jumps in leaves, on sledges, goes crackers through the daffodils, and who cries and cries when she dies.
In.
He smells of cigarette smoke, and his moustache tickles when he gives goodnight kisses. He spends hours convincing a small girl who can’t read, or add up, or sleep, or control her bad thoughts – that what she CAN do is draw. Until eventually she believes him.
Out.
He is playing on a beach, swinging children over waves in shorts and cagoules, throwing them in the pool, telling them they’re digging the golf ball sandcastles all wrong.
In.
He jokes away and pushes out monsters of all varieties, vaporising the snakes with suckers climbing in at night, trapping cats with red eyes in his wardrobe – and later slaying dead-eyed husbands with withering contempt.
Out.
He is on a boat, plunging in the foaming sea, drifting on a peat-black lake, pottering on a canal, messing about on the river. I watch his bare legs walking in front of me and realise we share calves.
In.
He rides in a Mondeo steed to the rescue, of stranded people and stuck daughters, be they over-tired, over-emotional, in pain, in peril – imperfect. He alternates bracing and tender, holding back hair, stroking backs, tidying rooms, sitting at besides, fixing problems, being busy – being there.
Out
He is in a restaurant, teasing a waiter, forgetting his handbag – and making everyone laugh out loud.
In
He relishes debate and games and words and knowledge and hilarity – at Friday night fish and chip dinners with a box of Lambrusco, at Christmas meals with neighbours, cups of tea with Grannies, holidays with friends. And when I am the one to make him laugh, I glow.
Out
He is taking a group of girls on holiday, singing the rude words to all the songs. It’s everyone’s highlight.
In
He argues with a deaf dog about who is at the door when he’s on his way to work, because it’s him, and she literally just saw him leave.
Out
He is joining a group of prickly work colleagues who don’t like the holiday temp – and they love him, and like her more because of him.
In
He is salt and pepper bearded, like a badger. He is telling bigger girls about the cancer that they don’t yet know won’t actually be the thing that kills him, but won’t leave him the same, either.
Out –
He is deep in conversation, his arms crossed over his braces, listening intently, nodding along. He lets out a sudden bark of laughter, and starts wildly gesticulating with his arms.
In –
His beard is white, and cats check it for mice. He plays pounce and builds them platforms, and rubs their faces with blunt, dented thumbs – thumbs that used to rub my palms as he squeezed my hand.
His is cold now in mine.
The windows reel past fast and slow, in a snail’s rush, and I am afraid when the tears mean I can’t see into them anymore. I am afraid I won’t remember. I am afraid of the windows ending.
When I am afraid, I still want my dad.
There is barely an out anymore.
In is sharp, shallow, a tiny gasp.
I look up from the windows and catch my sister’s eye. She has been looking through her own, I see.
We laugh, suddenly, grimly, without humour, at how funny he’d have found this. The darkly comic timing of the breath you don’t think will happen… that you don’t know whether to want or not.
The old dead cow trick, fooling the city tourists.
In –
This patchwork man, sewn together like Frankenstien’s monster operation after operation, slaloming around death for decades, is stitched together of so many different, rich and contrasting textures – gregarious and grumpy, funny and fierce, unflinchingly moral and twinklingly wicked, an extroverted introvert, the reserved life and soul of the party, a socialist at the coal board, a born engineer student of humanities, an intellectual who loved fart gags and silliness, a fan of Beethoven and bodice rippers, infinitely patient and easily exasperated, a lover of babies and boats, cats and crosswords, chicken conspiracy theories, sci-fi and cinema, a vehement disbeliever in God and midnight mice – a collector of projectors deliberately, and people unintentionally.
And all the windows crack and shatter
In an explosion of silence.
He is gone.
We are left to pick our way over the shards of broken glass, down the corridor, away from him. Bleeding.
Out – into an alien world without him in it.
*
I am home now, holding that first hand again, my daughter’s, much bigger now. It is strangely new, like I’m seeing it with my eyes freshly peeled. I listen for her breaths, out of habit, learning, because I have somehow forgotten what my own should feel and sound like. I don’t remember them hurting this much.
My knuckles stand out, my veins raised in rivulets of blue. They remind me of his. And I know with heavy inevitability and half hope that one day she will be holding my hand, when the skin is even thinner and the spots even browner, listening for my last breath in her turn.
I wonder if the hospital gowns will have the same windows. I wonder if she will fall into them, and what views she will see. I wonder if I am doing enough to keep the glass clear, to fill the frames for her.
All words have dried up, creativity is dead, and sense has evaporated.
Supplies are running low.
Mostly – from in-extensive research – antibiotics and tissues. And anything I feel like eating.
Despite taking all sensible precautions, including pretending not to make New Year Resolutions, refusing to go out after dark, mainlining mindless telly and purchasing the annual Notebook That Will Finally Sort My Life Out, the Thousand Year January has so far gifted me a sinus infection, a water infection, a sick baby hamster, a small insomniac, a pre-teen rebel/refusenik-without-a -cause, a brain-fog lobotomy and a crushing black cloud of doom.
I have not attempted Dry January, but have done well so far in achieving Cry January, where you weep a little every day instead.
I do not recommend.
I have not yet started hallucinating (in waking hours) or drinking my own – possibly currently poisonous – urine, but it can only really be a matter of time.
Send help as soon as possible.
Or Bear Grylls.
Or at least funny memes or pet pictures to keep me afloat a while longer.
A terrible pic of Sir Diggington here as inspiration.
Let’s just hope the little fella makes it…
Try to take care.
It will be February soon, I promise. Or hope. Or something.
If you’re anything like me, you have probably eschewed – possibly publicly – the concept of any New Year’s Resolutions, on the grounds of decades of experience proving THEY NEVER WORK and are designed just to make you feel terrible about yourself and your ongoing propensity to failure.
And yet secretly, SECRETLY, I still thought (again) that maybe this year I would actually be a better person on the sly, tricking myself by not saying it out loud but miraculously changing bad habits anyway, eg. eating less, exercising more, becoming a centre of zen and productivity.
And already – already I have let myself down, inhaled half a box of crunchy nut and the last of the Xmas Celebrations, sat on my arse, yelled at the children and scrolled mindlessly through Facebook instead.
Already, I hate myself afresh for a another wonderful year!
Which is why I HATE January. Stupid month.
But seeing as the secret I’ve been ineffectively keeping from myself is already out, I might as well write down the resolutions I wasn’t making but was really, in case past me can re-trick future me into doing any better. (Present me will Lalalalala and pretend not to notice, as ever).
1. Try and encourage Past Mumonthenetehredge to be more considerate of Future Mumonthenetherege
I’ll be honest, Past Mumonthenetheredge is a bit of a dick. Like, shoving the hoover in the cupboard so it falls out on Future Mumonthenetherdge and hits her on the head, dickish, putting the mouldy veg back in the drawer because the bin is full – until it putrifies and needs mopping up with an entire kitchen roll and a gas mask, dickish, ‘forgetting’ to fill my time sheet in for a month so it all has to be done at once weeping and cursing, dickish, pretending the washing machine isn’t leaking until the floor starts rotting away, dickish, popping the tangled Xmas lights back in the box to be sorted out next year, dickish.
So my resolution is to try and be a bit kinder and more considerate to myself in the future. (After the decorations go back in the loft, clearly).
2. Be calm
Right, I am defo perimenopausal. But until I’m 45, get my stupid thyroid under control and finally get my probable long Covid diagnosis – they’re not going to do much about it. And then if they do there isn’t any drugs in stock anywhere anyway…
In the meantime I can FEEL my relationship with the Smalls deteriorate through lack of energy and lack of tolerance for their NEVER LISTENING OR BELIEVING A WORD I SAY OH MY GOD PARENTING WAS NOT SUPPOSED TO BE LIKE THIS.
I need to CHILL. Breathe. Count to ten. Remember everything I’m grateful for, and everything I’m trying to achieve, and the person I actually want to a) be b) model and c) present to the world.
3. Stop scrolling
Oh My God I’m so addicted to my phone right now. Like, I promise myself I won’t get on social media and then suddenly I’m on the loo and eye-deep in Mumsnet and I have no idea how I got there. I’m getting actual real-life social media blackouts. It MUST stop.
Soon ish.
Probably.
4. Start writing
One of my biggest peeves with myself is that I’m so afraid of failure I can often fail to even try. Which when not trying is also my biggest red flag/button/rag to a bull is… a messy tangle of life-traps. I am sadly very much all talk and no trousers, follow-through, or finish-off. This is probably why I’ve never amounted to anything – and why my novel has remained at a static 3 chapters for at least 6 months.
The only way to get myself out of this quagmire of my own making is a bit of discipline, and just sitting down and doing a bit every day – if only for half an hour. I KNOW this. Whether I can actually bring myself to DO it is of course a very different matter.
It probably also has something to do with cracking no 3…
5. Get healthier
I eat far too much sugar because I’m always knackered, I forget to drink all day, down pint of water at night and am up and down to the loo all night – and I simply don’t MOVE enough. Must try and sort this out.
I know this last one in particular because for some reason my Fitness App has suddenly turned on on my phone and is trolling me with disappointed or patronisingly enthusiastic updates on my Move Ring.
I DON’T CARRY YOU EVERYWHERE I GO, PHONE! YOU DON’T KNOW HOW MUCH I MOVE! AND YOU CAN’T TELL ME WHAT TO DO, ANYWAY.
Although clearly you can, because I’m going to try and do it to please you – WHY AM I LIKE THIS??????
6. Stop trying to please people or inanimate objects
LOLS! None of mes past present or future believe this one is going to happen.
7. Do things that make me uncomfortable
I don’t like coming out of my comfort zone. It’s comfy. Clues in the name. But then I don’t like to be trapped there either, because I am (clearly from this post) ENTIRELY RATIONAL.
The thing is I find it so easy to stop growing and stop thinking – sometimes for YEARS at a time. And it doesn’t make me happy. So in 2023 I need to start doing stuff that feels uncomfortable again.
One of the first things I’m doing is coming out, slightly, from behind the blog. I’m going to join a panel of much more brilliant and actually successful women at an event held by the amazing In Good Company – discussing what it’s like to be a woman in the modern world.
Obvs I’m going to have to figure out how to be a vaguely functioning HUMAN BEING first, but I’ve got like a whole month. WHAT COULD GO WRONG???
Seriously, these Sheffield events are about finding connection, support and innovation, and if you’re a local woman and have never been to one you should really add it your New Year’s Resolution list. They’re really good. Or at least they have been in the past…
Anyway, whatever your list – secret or otherwise – looks like, Happy New Year to you. Let us see what fresh hell awaits in 2023! Plagues of Spiders! Murder Sloths! Public flogging of poor people! Amazon Ambulances! Dust storms! Apocalypse power cuts! The rise of the Crows! Dwayne Johnson for President!
Given the last few years, anything is possible, and you probably couldn’t actually make half of it up if you tried. Which leads me to…
8. Roll with the punches
I’m not great at embracing change. Maybe 2023 will be the year for that too. And as ever I will continue to very much appreciate your advice, perspective and solidarity as I attempt to do so.
Thanks for reading. Thanks for being out there in the void making it feel a bit less empty.
Most people didn’t plan on getting separated or divorced.
Most of us wanted the Fairy Tale.
Most of wanted the Family.
Most of us wanted to have the privilege of being woken up early by our excited kids, to be part of their wonder, to listen to their squeals and the ripping of paper, to hug their little pyjama-clad bodies quivering with excitement. Most of us wanted to LIVE THE DAMN DREAM.
And for most days of the year, we gradually get used to our new normal and build our new, smaller families and traditions and routines. Get into our new groove.
I’m five years into mine. But every Christmas – or at least every other Christmas – I am reminded that I am not, in fact, living the dream. That I failed to make my family work. That someone else is doing it all and seeing it all and feeling it all with them – and without me. That I am excluded, that I am no longer part of their whole life, that I get half their experiences and milestones – and that those are running out faster than I’m ready for.
Of course there are people who manage to maintain enough of a relationship with their ex to share the day, or even a few hours together. But for many of us, that isn’t the case, and the choices are limited.
We get to be alone, or to insert ourselves into someone ELSE’S family Christmas as a spare part – an incomplete jigsaw piece – watching proceedings from behind frosted glass, strangely crippled.
And every year, it still hurts.
At least it does for me.
And if it hurts for you too, here’s SIX ways to get through it.
1. Remember you never had the Dream in the first place
The matching pyjamas, the harmony, good cheer and family times NEVER EXISTED. If they did, you wouldn’t have got divorced.
Instead, you probably had simmering arguments about expenditure, pre-toy-assembly antagony, wrapping wars, tiredness competitions, hissed reminders to get out from behind phones and cameras, cooking clashes – and a million seething resentments poorly disguised by baubles and sparkly lights.
Thank the Deity of your choice that toxic vacuum of fun is no longer stifling you, your poor kids, or even your ex. Congratulate yourself on getting everyone out of that seething mass of shattered expectations and latent hostility.
2. Remember their Dream probably isn’t real either
My incredibly strong advice to you it to SWITCH OFF FROM PERSONAL SOCIAL MEDIA (not just at Christmas, but in general, but that’s probably another blog), because you really don’t need to see everyone you know (most especially your ex and their shiny new partner) showing their perfect family Instagram pictures. Not least because THEY’RE NOT TRUE EITHER.
That gloriously coiffed couple and their cherubic children and coordinated tree have been shouting at each other, ignoring the kids to get this shot, plus had a humdinger row over basting etiquette, mother-in-law management and breaking into Alcatraz-packaging – I absolutely guarantee it.
Don’t look, don’t compare, and don’t bloody believe it.
3. Do stuff for you
I know you could cheerfully tinsel-garrot the people who tell you you’re so lucky to be able to lie in, and they’d kill for a day to themselves, and how wonderful it would be to stay in bed with a book and a cup of tea.
I mean, those people deserve everything they get, frankly, are probably the ones with the icky-sweet perfect Instagram accounts anyway – and there is no jury on earth that would convict you for their murder, given this sort of monstrous provocation.
But.
They might also be right.
Those BASTERDS.
Stay in bed. Eat mince pies and drink Irish coffee under your duvet. Take a walk in the crisp air – possibly with a friend and a friendly Snowball in a flask. Watch all the Die Hards in a row. Have a bath with a really good book and a really really good soundtrack your kids refuse to listen to, probably with Alanis Morisette and/or lots of swearing, with Christmas candles and a generous glass of port. Nap. Have sex (or a wank) under the Christmas tree. Eat Christmas pudding and custard for your dinner. Set yourself a challenge as to how many Xmas dinners you can get yourself invited to, and how many you can eat before actually going pop. Pretend you’re a carefree Art Student living in a Parisian Loft. Or a hermit living in a tranquil cave. Do all the stuff those chumps with their children CAN ONLY EVER DREAM OF. Laugh at them.
4. Do stuff for others
Christ it’s another cliché. But they exist for a reason.
Bake for someone. Make Christmas dinner for other co-parenting drifters like you. Volunteer somewhere. Do a work shift so someone else gets the time off. Try and get up and out of your own head and your own problems and focussing on other people.
Allow yourself to feel good about doing a small bit of good in a dark world.
5. Do a do-over
This year I’m going back home to do Christmas the old-fashioned way – just me, my sister, my Mum and Dad. Before spouses and kids and divorces and distance there was the four of us; and we had FUN. These parent-type things are not going to last forever, you know. We’re getting old – and they’re getting even older. And doing over Christmas Past feels like an amazing time-travel opportunity. That doesn’t happen often. Invent it.
6. Throw yourself into planning your own Christmas
Christmas is, really, just a damn day. I know you’re still going to feel it ON the day. But there are other days… So throw yourself into throwing your own completely AMAZING one when the kids come back.
Here, we ask Father Christmas in our letters to him to deliver our presents on a different day. So we do our own Christmas ‘Eve’ sleepover downstairs, and wake up to our very own Christmas Day all over again, complete with delivery, footprints, et al.
And it’s great. It’s still special. It’s still magic. They’re still excited and wriggly and shrieky and happy to be home. It’s still Christmas… It just looks a little bit different.
And maybe, after the time apart, it even looks a little bit better.
Elf on the Shelf with a difference – day-by-day CHEAP and EASY ideas!
It’s nearly Elf on the Shelf time!
Last year I posted this and Facebook went crazy and deleted everything, so I’m posting it again. Please do use it, pass it on, and go and get FREE printables RIGHT HERE:
(I printed mine out onto this pack of parchment-style paper I got in 2005 and is still going strong. At this point I’m re-suing them from years past).
Some people love the Elf as a cheeky and harmless way of injecting some extra Christmas magic into December; other people hate it because it’s a creepy child-spy and labour-intensive parent-shaming tool.
Look, the whole thing is a) a lot of effort and b) ethically confusing. I get it. But I also happen to LOVE Elf on the Shelf.
Elf on the Shelf came into our lives in 2018, when my husband had just left. I was desperate to make some magic for the Smalls when it seemed like it had all been sucked from the world. The Elf came in and sprinkled it. It gave all of us something to focus on, and look forward to. It gave us magic back.
Our Elf, though, is a special kind of Elf.
It’s a Kindness Elf.
That means it’s not naughty, it’s never in a compromising position with a Barbie (seriously this is now both old AND stupid) and it doesn’t trash the house.
Instead, it sets Kindness Challenges through December to remind the kids what Christmas is REALLY about – with the added bonus that they all – weirdly – happen to be relatively low maintenance, and relatively CHEAP.
Four years in, and I now have a poem/treasure hunt for its arrival on the 1st, challenges for every day of December, and a goodbye poem for its exit on the 25th!
And this year I’m extra excited because I now have an Elf Helper.
The Big Small is officially no longer a Believer. But she loves the idea about keeping the magic alive for others, being let into the Big Grown Up Secret, and being a Santa – and an Elf – herself. And at a moment in time when I thought Christmas might lose some of the sparkle I worked so hard to create – and go back to being pre-child perfunctory – that’s actually proving to be more magic for me than at any other Christmas-point of her childhood.
So this is Elfing for people who don’t Elf, who are a bit lazy, but who still believe – a little bit – in a little bit magic.
xxxx
PART 1: DAY 1 WELCOME POEM AND TREASURE HUNT
Hello XXX Hello XXX
I hope you’re both okay
I’m really quite excited
That I’m here again to stay!/ That I’ve come to you to stay!
I’ll tell Santa all about you -
How wonderful you are
The things you do for others
All the times you are a STAR!
This December he wants to see
How good you are, how kind -
How you give out the best of you
And scatter round sunshine.
So I’ll be setting CHALLENGES
For you to have some Xmas fun -
And share your spark around the place
Bringing light to everyone!
The first challenge is to find me
And follow all my clues
I’ve made this one super easy
You’ll find it in your shoes….
2. (Shoes)
Next it’ll be a little harder
You’ll really have to look
The clue is out of sight you see -
Somewhere that you COOK
3. (Oven)
I hope it’s not too cold for you
If this clue rhymes with WINTER
When you want your work on paper
You print it on a…………?
4. (Printer)
Well done team you’re doing well
But I’m still flying free -
Why not have a look for me
In a spangly sparkly TREE?
5. (Xmas tree)
Excellent work! You’re on a roll
And so is the next clue...
It’s somewhere you’ll might find a sink
A shower/bath or .…?
6. (Loo roll)
Now you’ll have to seek me
Where Mummy rests her head
Am I hiding in a duvet
Or a pillow on the bed?
7. (Parent bed)
Ha! You haven’t found me yet!
But you’re doing really great
Have a look inside a cupboard
Where you keep your cups and PLATES…
8. (Kitchen cupboard)
The next one’s somewhere high
And very very bright
It’s somewhere in the Living Room
Somewhere on a ….…?
9. (Lamp/light)
You’re nearly there now brilliant work
I’m impressed down to my toes!
You’ll find me waiting patiently
Somewhere you wash your clothes...
10. (Washing machine)
HI!
You finally found me!
I’m so pleased to be here!
To help you spread round kindness
And a little Christmas cheer.
ELF
XXXXX
PART 2: DAY BY DAY IDEAS, MESSAGES AND CHALLENGES
Day 2
Message: Did I make you smile? Make someone else smile today!
Idea: Elf is somewhere random stuffed inside 3 toilet rolls. Top one has eyes drawn on (biro will do). Buttons down the others. Sticks/chopsticks/forks sticking out between rolls 1 and 2 for arms. Stick on orange card nose or hell, a real carrot if you’re super creative. Talk at dinner time about who they made smile and how.
Day 3
Message: Brave means being scared and doing it anyway. Be brave today!
Idea: Elf has done a bungee jump! Get a piece of string and dangle it off something high by its ankle. Maybe watch videos of real bungee jumps together to show them what Elf did! Talk about what they did that was brave that day/week.
Day 4
Message: It’s always good to make new friends! Make a friend today.
Idea: Fill a (thick) balloon with flour and draw a face on – and leave out stuff for kids to do the same. Hopefully they will play with new friends all day!
Day 5
Message: Be an ANGEL at XXXX today!
Idea: Want your kids to be super good for a December activity? Elf has made a snow-angel in flour on the kitchen side (easy to wipe clean). Top tip is to make the angel with your hand so no flour (or very little) actually gets on your hand.
Day 6
Message: XXX you are kind and funny and I love hearing you laugh. XXX you are honest and brave and a lovely friend. Kindness Challenge: Can you pay 3 people a complement today?
Idea: Elf has left little compliment messages for both kids, and challenges them to pay compliments to 3 people during the day. Discuss on school run home/ over dinner to find out how they did!
Day 7
Message: Kindness Challenge: Look after someone hurt, sad or left out today
Idea: Elf is cuddling a fave toy/putting a bandage/plaster on a fave toy. Discuss after school who they were kind too and why.
Day 8
Message: Kindness Challenge: Show your friends you love them! Send them a Christmas card!
Idea: Elf has left out cards for kids to write to best pals. (Please Lord don’t do the whole class as no one has time for that shizzle).
Day 8 Alt
Message: Today’s Challenge is to LISTEN. Talk to a friend and listen to their ideas, thoughts, worries and hopes. Come back and tell me all about it!
Idea: Elf has a rolled up tube of paper held to its ear. If you don’t do cards, this is another relatively easy option.
Day 9
Message: BOO! Give someone a NICE surprise today!
Idea: Elf is somewhere surprising. Behind a cushion you casually ask them to move, or a door you casually ask them to open. Discuss who they surprised later.
Day 10
Message: What goes Oh Oh Oh? Santa walking backwards! Tell someone a joke today!
Idea: Look up Xmas jokes together. Get them to tell you who they told and what the reaction was!
Day 11
Message: Be kind to yourself today – have a pamper afternoon/evening!
Idea: Ok cleary works better for girls, I suppose, but everyone is welcome! Buy cheap facemasks for Elf to leave, or put out ingredients to make with honey and oats. Put hot water and smelly stuff in the washing up bowl as a foot spa, give a foot and hand massage afterwards with body lotion – and maybe paint nails if that’s your thing.
Day 12
Message: Have fun together having a snowball fight!
Idea: Another toilet roll/kitchen roll sacrifice. Elf has screwed up lots into balls and left all over the living room floor. Throw them around for a bit. Surprisingly easy to clear up. Especially if the kids are ‘kind’ and help.
Day 13
Message: Kindness Challenge: Share something with someone today.
Idea: Elf is sat in a circle with several toys, and has shared out sweeties evenly. Give them after school snacks to share out? Anyway, get them to tell you their sharing stories later.
Day 14
Message: Be a STAR for your parents today!
Idea: Lordy December drags on, doesn’t it? An easy one when you can’t be arsed. Elf is on a star – wherever you have one, eg top of Xmas tree.
Day 15
Message: Make rainbows today! Can you bring rainbows to someone else today?
Idea: Leave out skittles in a circle on a plate. Pour on a bit of hot water. Instant rainbow. Also instant sweeties…
Day 16
Message: Not everyone gets lots of presents. Kindness Challenge: Make a Christmas Box for charity.
Idea: Possibly you do this together already? But it’s a good way to Elf it.
Day 16 Alt
Message: Not everyone has enough to eat – especially at Christmas. Donate some food to a Food Bank today.
Idea: Elf has some tins and pasta ready – you can go to the shops to get more and put in a donation bin. Involves less organisation than a Christmas box.
Day 17
Message: Kindness Challenge: Help your Mum/Dad sort the washing today!
Idea: Elf is on top of Washing Mountain. Hopefully you’ll actually get help to sort it and put it away.
Day 18
Message: It’s Be Kind to Your Sibling Day! Kindness Challenge: Do 2 kind things for your sister/brother.
Idea: For when they’re proper driving you CRAZY with the arguments.
Day 18 Alt
Message: Kindness Challenge: Help to wrap some presents today!
Idea: Elf is there with paper and scissors, and has possibly made a mess with the sellotape. (Clearly not all kids have siblings, and it’s another good one to get help with chores).
Day 19
Message: Kindness Challenge: Make someone some Christmas biscuits!
Idea: Or slow-cooker fudge. Or whatever. Elf is on the side with ingredients. Basically a baking activity but you wrap it up in baking paper and force it on unsuspecting neighbours/relatives.
Day 20
Message: The Kind Voice Jar! You get to eat all these sweets at the end of the day. BUT, if you are mean, one sweet will get taken away. How many will you have left?
Idea: Elf has two empty jars with the leftover Halloween sweeties in. Another one for when they’re being a-holes and you want some peace!
Day 21
Message: Dear XXX and XXX, I hope you are well. The North Pole was very cold last night so I’m pleased to be back in your nice warm house. Isn’t it nice to get a letter? Kindness Challenge: Write someone a letter today. Love ELF.
Idea: Elfie is warming up by a radiator near the door, and has left a letter on the mat (I use scrap paper). They can write to Granny, a friend, just to say a Christmas hello. Take a walk to post it.
Day 22
Message: Play a game today! And be a GOOD loser/winner!
Idea: Elf has set up a stack of fave family games. And if anyone starts kicking off you point to the message and remind them Elf wants them to play nicely.
Day 23 (if you have pets)
Message: Be Kind to Pets Day! Kindness Challenge: Do something special for your pet.
Idea: Elf is in the pet bed/by food/ etc. Obvs only works if you have a pet. Invite the cat to a tea party and give it a Dreamie licky thing. Make the hamster a box-maze. Take the dog for it’s fave walk, or make it a dog-food sculpture. You get the gist.
Day 23 (if you don’t have pets)
Message: Not all animals have enough to eat in the winter. Kindness Challenge: Feed the birds today!
Idea: Elf has left bird seed/ porridge oats / other out for the to scatter in the garden. Alternatively buy some cat food and stick it in the pet donation bin at a supermarket. Boom.
Day 24
Message: Put on a show for your Mum and Dad!
Idea: Elf and a cast of toys are behind the curtains somewhere, staging a show. They’ve left blank tickets for the kids to fill in and give out, and popcorn for the audience. Kids then have to GO AWAY and come up with a show!!!!!
PART 3: DAY 25 EXIT POEM
Goodbye XXX Goodbye XX!
I’m sorry I can’t stay
But I’ve loved my time at home with you
Much more than I can say.
I’ll miss your smiley faces
And hearing all your news -
The good you do for others
The kindness that you choose.
For kindness is super-power
You’ve all got in SPADES
Please keep it up while I’m not here -
Make sure it never fades.
For you year 2023
Will be a brilliant, stellar one!
And I’ll be back again to see you
Once it’s very nearly done.
Lots and lots of love,
ELF
XXXXXX
the surfaces gleam, but the drawers are stuck - an awkward fork, rearing up like bad thoughts, shoved away with stowaway crumbs and jam, resting in a crusty tray, determinedly ignored and alternately raged at. the cupboards are full, but open the door and cans fall as a sudden burst of heavy tears, onto despairing tiles hastily hoovered, seldom mopped. they rest a while in collapse, paused, and then thrown in all at once, higgeldy piggedley, best before 2003 - back into dark captivity. the stacks are neat, but practise secret mitosis, multiplying unopened post, unpaired socks, undecided destinations. pisa-piles tower on the brink on the stairs, desperately shored up and shored up until - sure enough - they tip over, and must choose to start again, knowing the end already. the floor is clear, but inside each box and chest and drawer is a jumble, tangled thoughts twisted until nothing can be found, or shut, or made sense of. the clothes are clean, but never sorted, and black soap-mould lines the drum, beating you, eating you up grey rubbery cell by grey rubbery cell. the shelves hold regimented trinkets and books, but behind them mutiny brews, dust gathers, furry shadows curdling thick and dense. they rise at the back, underneath, in the corners - the places you try not to look, and not to see and not to go - battening down pending chaos under a shiny veneer that proves you must be as ok as you seem. because on the top, the surfaces gleam.
And the reason I’m not writing much here is that I’ve finally started writing something else. A book.
I’ve often said I wanted to write a book, but I’ve never started because I’ve been afraid.
Afraid I’m not good enough.
Afraid I don’t have any original ideas.
Afraid I’ll fail.
Afraid of rejection.
Afraid the one talent I have in life will be disproven and I won’t ever amount to anything and I won’t ever get over it – because if I don’t do it at least I still get to keep hold of having the POTENTIAL to do it, and that’s something and not nothing.
I’m often all talk and no trousers. And it’s always fear behind my lack of follow-through. When it comes to any sticking point, I crumble. I always have.
But just recently I’ve had a bit of a revelation.
I’ve suddenly realised I don’t actually need to write for other people.
I can just write for me.
I can just write because I enjoy balancing words and sentences, exploring feelings and people, shaping stories and making sense of them – because it makes me feel free and alive.
Nobody else ever has to see it.
Nobody else has to like it.
It doesn’t actually have to be any good.
It doesn’t even have to be whole.
All it really needs to be is something I like doing. Without pressure, without agenda, without barriers, for its own sake.
So join me.
Go out there and make crap art.
Throw terrible pots.
Write awful poetry.
Draw things wonky.
Colour over the lines.
Sing out of tune.
Dance badly.
Do mediocre photography.
Make up trite songs using the three chords you can remember on the guitar.
I set us all free from having to achieve anything from our creativity but our own joy.
Elf on the Shelf has become weirdly controversial.
People tend to be militantly FOR or AGAINST it.
The Againsts have two key – and very fair – points. The whole thing gets irritatingly sanctimommy-competitive and parent-shamey – plus it’s also just odd to have an alien spy in the house telling tales on your kids, and/or being naughty itself – while expecting them to be good.
Look, the whole thing is a) a lot of effort and b) ethically confusing. I get it. But I also happen to LOVE Elf on the Shelf.
Elf on the Shelf came into our lives in 2018, when my husband had just left. I was desperate to make some magic for the Smalls when it seemed like it had all been sucked from the world. The Elf came in and sprinkled it. It gave all of us something to focus on, and look forward to. It gave us magic back.
Our Elf, though, is a special kind of Elf.
It’s a Kindness Elf.
That means it sets Kindness Challenges through December to remind the kids what Christmas is REALLY about – with the added bonus that they all – weirdly – happen to be relatively low maintenance! (Relatively).
Three years in, and I now have a poem/treasure hunt for its arrival on the 1st, challenges for every day of December, and a goodbye poem for its exit on the 25th!
LORD KNOWS, no one should be taking any sort of parenting advice from me. BUT, someone said the other day some people might actually like a Kindness Elf cheat-sheet. So this is Elfing for people who don’t Elf, who are a bit lazy, but who still believe – a little bit – in a little bit magic. xxxx
PART 1: DAY 1 WELCOME POEM AND TREASURE HUNT
Hello XXX Hello XXX
I hope you’re both okay
I’m really quite excited
That I’m here again to stay!/ That I’ve come to you to stay!
I’ll tell Santa all about you -
How wonderful you are
The things you do for others
All the times you are a STAR!
This December he wants to see
How good you are, how kind -
How you give out the best of you
And scatter round sunshine.
So I’ll be setting CHALLENGES
For you to have some Xmas fun -
And share your spark around the place
Bringing light to everyone!
The first challenge is to find me
And follow all my clues
I’ve made this one super easy
You’ll find it in your shoes….
2. (Shoes)
Next it’ll be a little harder
You’ll really have to look
The clue is out of sight you see -
Somewhere that you COOK
3. (Oven)
I hope it’s not too cold for you
If this clue rhymes with WINTER
When you want your work on paper
You print it on a…………?
4. (Printer)
Well done team you’re doing well
But I’m still flying free -
Why not have a look for me
In a spangly sparkly TREE?
5. (Xmas tree)
Excellent work! You’re on a roll
And so is the next clue...
It’s somewhere you’ll might find a sink
A shower/bath or .…?
6. (Loo roll)
Now you’ll have to seek me
Where Mummy rests her head
Am I hiding in a duvet
Or a pillow on the bed?
7. (Parent bed)
Ha! You haven’t found me yet!
But you’re doing really great
Have a look inside a cupboard
Where you keep your cups and PLATES…
8. (Kitchen cupboard)
The next one’s somewhere high
And very very bright
It’s somewhere in the Living Room
Somewhere on a ….…?
9. (Lamp/light)
You’re nearly there now brilliant work
I’m impressed down to my toes!
You’ll find me waiting patiently
Somewhere you wash your clothes...
10. (Washing machine)
HI!
You finally found me!
I’m so pleased to be here!
To help you spread round kindness
And a little Christmas cheer.
ELF
XXXXX
DAY BY DAY IDEAS, MESSAGES AND CHALLENGES
Day 2
Message: Did I make you smile? Make someone else smile today!
Idea: Elf is somewhere random stuffed inside 3 toilet rolls. Top one has eyes drawn on (biro will do). Buttons down the others. Sticks/chopsticks/forks sticking out between rolls 1 and 2 for arms. Stick on orange card nose or hell, a real carrot if you’re super creative. Talk at dinner time about who they made smile and how.
Day 3
Message: Brave means being scared and doing it anyway. Be brave today!
Idea: Elf has done a bungee jump! Get a piece of string and dangle it off something high by its ankle. Maybe watch videos of real bungee jumps together to show them what Elf did! Talk about what they did that was brave that day/week.
Day 4
Message: It’s always good to make new friends! Make a friend today.
Idea: Fill a (thick) balloon with flour and draw a face on – and leave out stuff for kids to do the same. Hopefully they will play with new friends all day!
Day 5
Message: Be an ANGEL at XXXX today!
Idea: Want your kids to be super good for a December activity? Elf has made a snow-angel in flour on the kitchen side (easy to wipe clean). Top tip is to make the angel with your hand so no flour (or very little) actually gets on your hand.
Day 6
Message: XXX you are kind and funny and I love hearing you laugh. XXX you are honest and brave and a lovely friend. Kindness Challenge: Can you pay 3 people a complement today?
Idea: Elf has left little compliment messages for both kids, and challenges them to pay compliments to 3 people during the day. Discuss on school run home/ over dinner to find out how they did!
Day 7
Message: Kindness Challenge: Look after someone hurt, sad or left out today
Idea: Elf is cuddling a fave toy/putting a bandage/plaster on a fave toy. Discuss after school who they were kind too and why.
Day 8
Message: Kindness Challenge: Show your friends you love them! Send them a Christmas card!
Idea: Elf has left out cards for kids to write to best pals. (Please Lord don’t do the whole class as no one has time for that shizzle).
Day 8 Alt
Message: Today’s Challenge is to LISTEN. Talk to a friend and listen to their ideas, thoughts, worries and hopes. Come back and tell me all about it!
Idea: Elf has a rolled up tube of paper held to its ear. If you don’t do cards, this is another relatively easy option.
Day 9
Message: BOO! Give someone a NICE surprise today!
Idea: Elf is somewhere surprising. Behind a cushion you casually ask them to move, or a door you casually ask them to open. Discuss who they surprised later.
Day 10
Message: What goes Oh Oh Oh? Santa walking backwards! Tell someone a joke today!
Idea: Look up Xmas jokes together. Get them to tell you who they told and what the reaction was!
Day 11
Message: Be kind to yourself today – have a pamper afternoon/evening!
Idea: Ok cleary works better for girls, I suppose, but everyone is welcome! Buy cheap facemasks for Elf to leave, or put out ingredients to make with honey and oats. Put hot water and smelly stuff in the washing up bowl as a foot spa, give a foot and hand massage afterwards with body lotion – and maybe paint nails if that’s your thing.
Day 12
Message: Have fun together having a snowball fight!
Idea: Another toilet roll/kitchen roll sacrifice. Elf has screwed up lots into balls and left all over the living room floor. Throw them around for a bit. Surprisingly easy to clear up. Especially if the kids are ‘kind’ and help.
Day 13
Message: Kindness Challenge: Share something with someone today.
Idea: Elf is sat in a circle with several toys, and has shared out sweeties evenly. Give them after school snacks to share out? Anyway, get them to tell you their sharing stories later.
Day 14
Message: Be a STAR for your parents today!
Idea: Lordy December drags on, doesn’t it? An easy one when you can’t be arsed. Elf is on a star – wherever you have one, eg top of Xmas tree.
Day 15
Message: Make rainbows today! Can you bring rainbows to someone else today?
Idea: Leave out skittles in a circle on a plate. Pour on a bit of hot water. Instant rainbow. Also instant sweeties…
Day 16
Message: Not everyone gets lots of presents. Kindness Challenge: Make a Christmas Box for charity.
Idea: Possibly you do this together already? But it’s a good way to Elf it.
Day 16 Alt
Message: Not everyone has enough to eat – especially at Christmas. Donate some food to a Food Bank today.
Idea: Elf has some tins and pasta ready – you can go to the shops to get more and put in a donation bin. Involves less organisation than a Christmas box.
Day 17
Message: Kindness Challenge: Help your Mum/Dad sort the washing today!
Idea: Elf is on top of Washing Mountain. Hopefully you’ll actually get help to sort it and put it away.
Day 18
Message: It’s Be Kind to Your Sibling Day! Kindness Challenge: Do 2 kind things for your sister/brother.
Idea: For when they’re proper driving you CRAZY with the arguments.
Day 18 Alt
Message: Kindness Challenge: Help to wrap some presents today!
Idea: Elf is there with paper and scissors, and has possibly made a mess with the sellotape. (Clearly not all kids have siblings, and it’s another good one to get help with chores).
Day 19
Message: Kindness Challenge: Make someone some Christmas biscuits!
Idea: Or slow-cooker fudge. Or whatever. Elf is on the side with ingredients. Basically a baking activity but you wrap it up in baking paper and force it on unsuspecting neighbours/relatives.
Day 20
Message: The Kind Voice Jar! You get to eat all these sweets at the end of the day. BUT, if you are mean, one sweet will get taken away. How many will you have left?
Idea: Elf has two empty jars with the leftover Halloween sweeties in. Another one for when they’re being a-holes and you want some peace!
Day 21
Message: Dear XXX and XXX, I hope you are well. The North Pole was very cold last night so I’m pleased to be back in your nice warm house. Isn’t it nice to get a letter? Kindness Challenge: Write someone a letter today. Love ELF.
Idea: Elfie is warming up by a radiator near the door, and has left a letter on the mat (I use scrap paper). They can write to Granny, a friend, just to say a Christmas hello. Take a walk to post it.
Day 22
Message: Play a game today! And be a GOOD loser/winner!
Idea: Elf has set up a stack of fave family games. And if anyone starts kicking off you point to the message and remind them Elf wants them to play nicely.
Day 23 (if you have pets)
Message: Be Kind to Pets Day! Kindness Challenge: Do something special for your pet.
Idea: Elf is in the pet bed/by food/ etc. Obvs only works if you have a pet. Invite the cat to a tea party and give it a Dreamie licky thing. Make the hamster a box-maze. Take the dog for it’s fave walk, or make it a dog-food sculpture. You get the gist.
Day 23 (if you don’t have pets)
Message: Not all animals have enough to eat in the winter. Kindness Challenge: Feed the birds today!
Idea: Elf has left bird seed/ porridge oats / other out for the to scatter in the garden. Alternatively buy some cat food and stick it in the pet donation bin at a supermarket. Boom.
Day 24
Message: Put on a show for your Mum and Dad!
Idea: Elf and a cast of toys are behind the curtains somewhere, staging a show. They’ve left blank tickets for the kids to fill in and give out, and popcorn for the audience. Kids then have to GO AWAY and come up with a show!!!!!
PART 3: DAY 25 EXIT POEM
Goodbye XXX Goodbye XX!
I’m sorry I can’t stay
But I’ve loved my time at home with you
Much more than I can say.
I’ll miss your smiley faces
And hearing all your news -
The good you do for others
The kindness that you choose.
For kindness is super-power
You’ve all got in SPADES
Please keep it up while I’m not here -
Make sure it never fades.
For you year 2022
Will be a brilliant, stellar one!
And I’ll be back again to see you
Once it’s very nearly done.
Lots and lots of love,
ELF
XXXXXX
I mean they are an ACTUAL pair of pants, that I put on my ACTUAL body on a weekly basis. Just stick a pant-liner over the holes and you’re good to go! is my philosophy.
I have no idea why I have these holes in my pants, in this particular area, across nearly ALL pairs. My pubic hair is NOT made of wire wool. Honest. The only other holes exist at the sides where a thumb has gone through on an occasional pair as I’ve over-enthusiastically hauled them up after a wee – but the REST of the pants seem to be able to maintain structural integrity.
So these gusset holes are frankly a mystery.
It COULD, mind, have something – possibly – to do with the fact they are probably older than at least one of my children. But I cannot be sure.
I do not, I hasten to add, wear these pants when I see BoyNotQuiteOnTheNetherEdge. I do have SOME standards left.
Unfortunately for BNQOTNE, though, the pants reserved for his edification are not exactly silky and lacy wisps of lingerie, either. In fact when I left a pair behind the other day he – quite rudely – informed me he was using them as a second duvet. It has started to get a bit nippy…
I think in my head I’m thinking I’m going for the 1950s swimsuit look.
In reality I’m achieving the enormous Granny-knickers look.
You see, I struggle with pants.
I have a permanent mum pouch which no amount of sit-ups is going to smooth out, and which looks like it’s still got a joey in it after a medium-sized meal. The pant options are therefore twofold: UNDER the pouch, which means knicker elastic or itchy lace over my c-section scars WHICH IS AGONY LIKE I CANNOT EXPLAIN TO YOU, or OVER the pouch, which means quite a good deal of material is required.
In fact it’s not just lace on the c-section scars. It’s lace ANYWHERE that makes me itch. So does elastic, in large quantities, too. And there’s no point in matching sets, because my bras have to be made by pioneering scaffolding engineers and cost an arm and an absolute leg – and I’m not forking out another £20 on top of that for a piece of floss and bunting with an that won’t support a bloody panty-liner. And then need handwashing. WHO HAS TIME TO HANDWASH PANTS???
Which all leaves me in Pant Limbo.
What I really need is a Pants Intervention. I know this, because I was once the lucky subject of The Great Pyjama Intervention of c2013.
This was staged by three school friends who (pre pandemic) I would see several times a year for couple of nights. Having seen me for several years in a row in the same pair of faded Christmas pj bottoms and an old airtex t-shirt that used to belong to my mum – but with the collar roughly chopped off as it got in my way – my friends had had ENOUGH. I was duly frog-marched to M&S, and STRONGLY ENCOURAGED to purchase new, non-bobbly pyjamas, without comedy skiing penguins on them, and which had not been self-altered with a pair of kids’ safety scissors.
[These same friends clubbed together after I lost 3 stone during my divorce and had nothing to wear and no money to buy anything to send me M&S vouchers. And since then I have always associated M&S with love. And no, this is not a sponsored post. And yes, these wonderful pants – through the magic of stretch and the idiosyncrasies of my washing/drying/shrinking skills – have stayed with me throughout my dress size rollercoaster].
Pants Intervention. It’s the only way.
Because I will not buy new pants myself.
Yes, pants are hard, and comfort is king. But it’s more than that.
These pants are… friends. These pants are easy. These pants have never let me down. They don’t ride up. They don’t dig in. These pants have been a reliable and consistent presence in my life for pretty much as long as I can remember clearly – when life itself WAS pants. These pants have been there for me.These pants ARE me, slightly faded, a bit stained, and falling apart at the seams.
So The Boy is right – these pants ARE a comfort blanket.
And it may, may, possibly, just, nearly – be time to let them go. Sniff. (But not the pants. That’s gross).
So here is to crap, comfy, comfort pants.
Here’s to good old M&S.
Here’s to sweating the small stuff when the big stuff is too big. Bigger even than my pants.
Here’s to wonderful friends, who I haven’t seen in far too long.
Here’s to holding onto things, and routines, and the familiar, for a bit too long, too.
Here’s to letting go and trying something new. Even if it is only a Full Brief Cotton Five Pack.
And here’s to anyone planning to buy me a Christmas present… I need M&S vouchers, and an escort to make sure I don’t get distracted by Per Una.
Mumonthenetheredge 