Royal Mail's final posting date has well and truly passed. We have gone from being absolutely manic, permanently shallow breathing, to just kicking back and enjoying the show. The show being those lovely chaps that leave their shopping until the last minute. Example of a conversation today, 'My darling wife advised me you have a set of three awesome retro canisters'. Our reply 'Well, yes, we did, but the smallest of the three sold out a week ago. As they come from France, we've not had time to get more in I'm sorry'. Fear not, receiver of two canisters, we'll have them back in in the new year.
My other half was sent to Sainsburys today, armed with a list and a look of grim determination. I asked him to get 4 packs of cocktail sausages, among other things (I know this sounds like a lot, but really, if you've tried feeding Amy a roast you will understand that she'll eat 4 for every one you eat). He returned with 120 cocktail sausages. I thought they came in 12s. This year they are apparently in 30s. Yes, I will be more specific in future.
So, #80smoviesrock. We're on to H.
There weren't many H's that inspire me. The only one really is Heathers, which I remember loving at the time, but haven't had chance to watch it in recent years. And you know what? It's Christmas! So I'll be watching It's a Wonderful Life, White Christmas and Miracle on 34th Street.
The Pint Sized Department Store