Wednesday, 16 December 2009

My daughter keeps calling me Scrooge. It may be something to do with her Xmas list getting longer and my fuse getting shorter. It may be my not taking The X-Factor Final seriously. It could be the inability to recognise the reciprocal expectations of the Xmas card lark - or the Biblical swearing - or the GBH on the BFG outside the BHS.

And then today - it snowed.

What happy little rosy faces. Tongues peeking out to taste a transient flake. Pure innocent delight in pure heavenly white.

Fuck off.


  1. you are a frustrated genius, mme sg.

  2. Finally - recognition!

    So why do I still get locked in the loft when 'company' arrives?