Oh lord. I've now seen the actual 2012 festive missive from Dad's cousins. As well as exciting news of a self-catering holiday in Peebles, it contained the following gem:
Enid has had an encouraging year with the card-making group (complete with photo of a crappy homemade letter rack.)
Friday 28 December 2012
Monday 24 December 2012
December
In December Simon finally removed a watermark from Suzy's car seat that looked very much as if she had suffered stress incontinence going over a cattle grid. It was in fact Sprite.
DISCLAIMER: The author and her husband would like to make it clear that while a handful of these entries are based on truth, the one about Simon's skid marks is pure fabrication.
Sunday 23 December 2012
November
In November life in the Southwold household became dominated by one word: MUD. A combination of heavy rainfall and clay soils means that there is now literally nowhere to walk the dog that she won’t come back looking, but alas not smelling, choc-dipped. A waterproof doggy trouser suit had been suggested by a well-meaning acquaintance, but when showed to Molly her response was profane in the extreme, including the phrase “I wouldn't wear f***ing tartan if you paid me in sardines, Mother”. Work on a disposable, cling film-type alternative was halted when Molly began to lose consciousness, although Simon maintains that she was just holding her breath to scare us.
Saturday 22 December 2012
October
In October Suzy's sister continued the family gene pool by squeezing a new person through her cervix. Obviously we can already discern signs of extreme intelligence, even genius, in her weeny bundle of joy.
Friday 21 December 2012
September
Towards the end of September Suzy was eagerly anticipating a very important event, probably the most significant since her wedding. After 9 months of watching everything expand, a date of 27th September was bandied about. Nerves and anticipation led up to the big day - could it really be as good as people said it would be?
YES!!! The new Waitrose in Market Harborough opened on schedule.
Thursday 20 December 2012
Wednesday 19 December 2012
How to... Make New Year's Resolutions
Obviously I don't need to make any New Year's resolutions because I am already perfect, but I guess some of you lesser mortals might, so here goes.
Don’t be too ambitious. New Year's Day is a singularly poor day to instigate lifestyle changes. Let's be honest, any normal person wakes up on January 1st with a raging hangover. Metallica will be playing a one-off gig in your skull while the man from Carpetright lays a new Axminster on your tongue and Michael Flatley performs Riverdance in your digestive system. The last thing you’ll want to do is go for a 3 mile jog followed by 50 chin-ups. Best, then, to ensure your list includes some easily-achieved resolutions. For example, you could resolve not to peel parsnips between the hours of 2am and 5am.
Most resolutions are about fitting in with society’s expectations. I'm sure you don't need reminding that these are wholly unrealistic. You can't combine Nigella’s cleavage, Carol Vorderman’s derrière and Jessica Ennis’s stomach. No-one does. Much healthier (mentally, anyway) to think “I am what I am” and go through the festive Radio Times drawing moustaches and devil horns on anyone more attractive than you. Elasticised waists were invented for a jolly good reason, and I would remind you that while people who exercise live longer, that extra time is spent exercising.
Life is short: why not make some resolutions you’ll actually enjoy keeping? One habit I genuinely recommend: I never pick up the home phone unless I know who’s calling. A £10 answerphone is all you need. Cold-callers, deranged relatives and garrulous acquaintances can be instantly avoided, and if that doesn't make for a better 2013 I don't know what will. I also decided last year that I would have nothing whatsoever to do with lawn maintenance - mowing, strimming, weeding or wrestling clippings into the green bin. (Caution: this one needs an understanding spouse, or paid gardener.)
Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to all. Now, would someone pass me that Radio Times?
Don’t be too ambitious. New Year's Day is a singularly poor day to instigate lifestyle changes. Let's be honest, any normal person wakes up on January 1st with a raging hangover. Metallica will be playing a one-off gig in your skull while the man from Carpetright lays a new Axminster on your tongue and Michael Flatley performs Riverdance in your digestive system. The last thing you’ll want to do is go for a 3 mile jog followed by 50 chin-ups. Best, then, to ensure your list includes some easily-achieved resolutions. For example, you could resolve not to peel parsnips between the hours of 2am and 5am.
Most resolutions are about fitting in with society’s expectations. I'm sure you don't need reminding that these are wholly unrealistic. You can't combine Nigella’s cleavage, Carol Vorderman’s derrière and Jessica Ennis’s stomach. No-one does. Much healthier (mentally, anyway) to think “I am what I am” and go through the festive Radio Times drawing moustaches and devil horns on anyone more attractive than you. Elasticised waists were invented for a jolly good reason, and I would remind you that while people who exercise live longer, that extra time is spent exercising.
Life is short: why not make some resolutions you’ll actually enjoy keeping? One habit I genuinely recommend: I never pick up the home phone unless I know who’s calling. A £10 answerphone is all you need. Cold-callers, deranged relatives and garrulous acquaintances can be instantly avoided, and if that doesn't make for a better 2013 I don't know what will. I also decided last year that I would have nothing whatsoever to do with lawn maintenance - mowing, strimming, weeding or wrestling clippings into the green bin. (Caution: this one needs an understanding spouse, or paid gardener.)
Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to all. Now, would someone pass me that Radio Times?
July
In July three became four when Molly joined our little family. If you have not yet had the pleasure of meeting Molly, imagine a black feather boa with five sets of teeth and a bad attitude. Simon came home from work that day with a squeaky toy cow, which was at the time bigger than the dog. After five months of vigorous play, Cow is now missing two feet, one ear and part of her udder, but has gained an astronomical bacteria count.
Tuesday 18 December 2012
June
In June, Suzy was pleased to find Sellotape satin-finish Gift Wrap tape on 3 for 2 at Rymans. We also visited Barcelona. Barcelona is a city in Spain.
Monday 17 December 2012
Sunday 16 December 2012
April
In April we took to experimenting with different positions in the bedroom. It was an exhausting couple of weeks and Simon pulled a muscle twice. Sometimes Suzy took the lead and other times Simon made suggestions (with his artistic background, tending to prefer more unusual combinations). Lighting was a problem and sometimes a torch had to be used, and on one occasion we even had to get our next door neighbour round to help with all the humping, but eventually we decided to put all the bedroom furniture back where it had been in the first place.
Saturday 15 December 2012
March
In March Suzy was forced to replace her wiper blades, having tried and failed to alleviate the noise with white vinegar and kitchen roll. So unfortunately at a mere 3 years 5 months old, this set didn't beat the “raining” (Ha! Get it?) champion's record of 4 years and 1 month. (Trico brand, a freebie when she worked at their Abergavenny factory one glorious summer.)
Friday 14 December 2012
February
February was the month in which an anaesthetised Timmy-cat was separated from his testicles. Unlike Harvey before him, this was performed by a qualified veterinarian and not an ill-judged leap over a rusty barbed-wire fence. To everyone’s relief Timmy didn't show the area undue attention and thus avoided the ignominy of a Buster collar.
Thursday 13 December 2012
Round Robin
Every year my father's cousin encloses a round robin with his Christmas card to my parents.
(Actually, let's start with the card itself. Without fail it is addressed to my mum, my dad, me and my sister. Seeing my name writ large in his oh-so-neat script especially annoys me, as I am a married woman of 35 and haven't lived "at home" since 1995. Either find out my address or stop pretending to care, but let's not make out it's still the early nineties.)
Irritation aside, this pales into insignificance compared to the round robin itself. It reeks of smugness and self-delusion: his wife's lecturing career, the joys of a minicruise to Antwerp, his fascinating hours volunteering in their church coffee shop, and how their great love is their grandchildren (who at 21 and 18 are surely too old to be spending so much time with Granny and Grandad).
In a spirit of defiance, I wrote my own round robin this year. I'm going to tweet a month every day between now and Christmas Eve.
Merry Christmas to family and fiends, near and far. The Southwolds extend our festive wishes. We can hardly believe that 2012 is already drawing to a close, like the long-awaited finale of a tedious primary school nativity.
And what an exciting year it has been! In January, Suzy was delighted with the results of “Almat” washing powder - thank you, good folks at Which? magazine! - and vows that she will never use any other. She finds it keeps her delicates soft, while effectively removing the shitty skid marks from the arse of Simon's boxers (when used at 60 degrees or above.)
(Actually, let's start with the card itself. Without fail it is addressed to my mum, my dad, me and my sister. Seeing my name writ large in his oh-so-neat script especially annoys me, as I am a married woman of 35 and haven't lived "at home" since 1995. Either find out my address or stop pretending to care, but let's not make out it's still the early nineties.)
Irritation aside, this pales into insignificance compared to the round robin itself. It reeks of smugness and self-delusion: his wife's lecturing career, the joys of a minicruise to Antwerp, his fascinating hours volunteering in their church coffee shop, and how their great love is their grandchildren (who at 21 and 18 are surely too old to be spending so much time with Granny and Grandad).
In a spirit of defiance, I wrote my own round robin this year. I'm going to tweet a month every day between now and Christmas Eve.
Merry Christmas to family and fiends, near and far. The Southwolds extend our festive wishes. We can hardly believe that 2012 is already drawing to a close, like the long-awaited finale of a tedious primary school nativity.
And what an exciting year it has been! In January, Suzy was delighted with the results of “Almat” washing powder - thank you, good folks at Which? magazine! - and vows that she will never use any other. She finds it keeps her delicates soft, while effectively removing the shitty skid marks from the arse of Simon's boxers (when used at 60 degrees or above.)
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