Winter weekends
Ah! December, deep mid-winter. This year I’ve decided to combat freezing temperatures by wrapping up warm, making soup and staying by the fire.
With a few exceptions for festive functions, naturally.
This weekend being a case in point.
On Friday night I found myself driving a small car up a big motorway to sunny Wakefield, ancestral home of DJ S, whose brother-in-law was celebrating his birthday. Arriving a mere 4 hours late, around 10.30, we blended in marvellously. I popped on a pair of heels and a frock and gave good girlfriend. The next morning we behaved nicely at the breakfast table, chatting to aunties and asking about the best place in town to purchase Christmas decorations.
Twelve hours later I was sticking up said decorations around the ticket booth of DJ S’s fabulous monthly club night in Camden, biting off sellotape with my teeth and trying to avoid being hit by the door as the thrash metal band who’d hired the venue beforehand made their exit. Who says being a rock widow isn’t glamorous?
Two hours after that I was grinning with delight at the burlesque charms of Miss Kitty Bang Bang and her fabulous Christmas medley. I’ve never seen a bottle of champagne put to better use, or in such an interesting manner, I must say!
The next day being one of rest, that is precisely what I did. After five years of shilly-shallying, I have finally got round to having my hearth reinstated. A hundred kilos of eco-coal have been delivered and kindling purchased. Which allowed me to indulge in one of my favourite winter pastimes ever – a nice bit of crumpet in front of the fire…
With a few exceptions for festive functions, naturally.
This weekend being a case in point.
On Friday night I found myself driving a small car up a big motorway to sunny Wakefield, ancestral home of DJ S, whose brother-in-law was celebrating his birthday. Arriving a mere 4 hours late, around 10.30, we blended in marvellously. I popped on a pair of heels and a frock and gave good girlfriend. The next morning we behaved nicely at the breakfast table, chatting to aunties and asking about the best place in town to purchase Christmas decorations.
Twelve hours later I was sticking up said decorations around the ticket booth of DJ S’s fabulous monthly club night in Camden, biting off sellotape with my teeth and trying to avoid being hit by the door as the thrash metal band who’d hired the venue beforehand made their exit. Who says being a rock widow isn’t glamorous?
Two hours after that I was grinning with delight at the burlesque charms of Miss Kitty Bang Bang and her fabulous Christmas medley. I’ve never seen a bottle of champagne put to better use, or in such an interesting manner, I must say!
The next day being one of rest, that is precisely what I did. After five years of shilly-shallying, I have finally got round to having my hearth reinstated. A hundred kilos of eco-coal have been delivered and kindling purchased. Which allowed me to indulge in one of my favourite winter pastimes ever – a nice bit of crumpet in front of the fire…
posted by Lady V at 7:56 pm
6 Comments:
Genius.
I can tell you were relaxed because as I was reading that post I felt all the tension flood out of my shoulders...
Glad you survived the trial by family, anyway, one of the cruellest of Medieval tortures.
Bubbly, crumpets, and ecocoal--sounds divine!
You looked FABULOUS in heels Lady V.
Thanks for giving good girlfriend and generally just being wonderful xx
DJ S
"nice bit of crumpet"
what are we really talking about here?
note fluffy 70s sheepskin porn rug. need I elaborate?
Sadly, I need to quote Stacey from Dagenham - X Factor contestant, "Who doesn't like a bit of sheepskin?"
Indeed.
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