Two days after Christmas…

I’m sitting here wearing my new Minnie Mouse slippers (thanks to my daughter, son-in-law and grand-kids) and my new purple earrings (thanks to my son and daughter-in-law) – and, for the naughty-minded, yes I’m wearing clothes! – waiting for the Old Boy to come back from buying more Christmas lights (the after Christmas sales), so we can eat left-overs for lunch. Yes, it’s two days after Christmas and it’s all over bar the left-overs. I expect some of them to still be with us a week from now. We’ve entered the “should clean up but can’t be bothered” stage of the Christmas season. The garbos (rubbish collectors) have already been and, may I say, God bless you all for working today. And, don’t worry,...

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We’re a weird mob.

We’re a strange breed, we humans. Just watching the nightly news gives us an interesting snapshot of the human condition. A weirdo holds a bunch of people hostage in a chocolate and coffee cafe in the heart of our biggest city. His demands: a terrorist flag (obviously didn’t have one of his own) and a chat with the Prime Minister. Yep, definitely the sort of thing worth terrorising and killing people for. India are putting up a good fight in the cricket but the Aussies are holding their own. Isn’t the new young captain doing well? The Taliban wage war against dangerous children┬áin Pakistan. The Taliban in Afghanistan distance themselves from this attack. The only reason I can think of is that boys seemed to be the main target. Apparently, in...

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Dear coffee, I miss you

Had a bit of a nasty shock the other day; heard a good friend of mine was recently diagnosed with breast cancer. This was the lady who often gave me a place of refuge away from the hospital, when I was having radiotherapy, many many years ago. I don’t know why I thought she’d be immune but I did. She’s doing well and the prognosis is excellent, as they seem to have got to it very early on. That’s all good news. But… Well… Excuse the language but…bloody cancer! Note to cancer: I hate your stinking guts. The other day I was chatting to an acquaintance and we were comparing notes on what it’s like to need a walking stick, weird medications etc. A reasonable way into the conversation she said, “I didn’t know...

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It’s St Nick’s day.

Happy St Nicholas’s birthday, everyone! December 6 is the day the first, the original, St Nicholas/Santa Claus/Father Christmas was born somewhere in Turkey. He was a kind old boy who gave a peasant some bags of gold (allegedly dropping them down the chimney) so that he wouldn’t sell his daughters into servitude. (That’s my kind of Santa Claus!) His actions were so inspirational that people began giving gifts to each other on his birthday, to commemorate him. Over the centuries it gradually became part of the Christmas tradition. Here endeth the lesson for the day. It looks like the Old Boy has finally finished festooning the Noble castle with Christmas lights. It’s been phased in over a couple of weeks as he’s had to wait for a...

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