a touch of Grinch

I'm waiting for photos from the partners' club xmas function to upload onto Picasa. Watching paint dry would be more interesting. I hope all the partners are grateful and I get profuse thanks for several hours of my life that I will never get back. It's 8pm and Hubby is in bed already. Might join him and continue nightmarish uploading task from warmth and comfort of my bed, instead of alone down here in the cavernous (and always mildly stained and biscuit-crumbed) living room.

It's quite hard to feel Christmassy there at the moment. Chilly evenings help, but I do miss xmas telly, and all the festive nonsense. There is one shop selling tinsel and stars at the Jawalakhel roundabout, but everywhere else is the same old dusty honking morass it is the rest of the year. If we hadn't spent far too much money already this year on holidays, then I'd consider skedaddling off somewhere hot, like we did last year, but the truth is, that the prohibitive-bought-at-the-height-of-the-housing-boom little matchbox of a house we own, won't pay its own mortgage, which is a jolly shame.

The other thing that's a bit un-festive is that we spent most of this morning in the medical centre with various minor and un-christmassy ailments. I think Santa will be bringing Ventolin, Hydrocortisone and Amoxycillin in his sack this year. I felt a bit left out, being the only member of the family without some gripe to whinge to the doctor about. Think I'll have to make one up and get myself med-evaced somewhere either hot or with snow (don't really mind which, just somewhere without unlicensed motorbikes driven by pre-pubescant boys, and with pavements, would be nice).

Right, I'm off to make a hot toddy, with extra whisky, because that is Christmassy. xxx