Oh well. The annual food/ drink/ over-indulgence fest is over for another year and it’s back to old clothes (work suit) and porridge (with honey and cinnamon) tomorrow morning.
Despite my weary attempts at cynicism in this blog I am actually a simple soul and I love the whole shenanigans. Without it the winter months would be just too miserable.
What are my highlights, I hear you ask? As usual, my twin-sister (Queen Of Chaos) provided a few “moments”.
She bought me a jumper. So did my dad.
-Did you like it, she asked.
-Yes, I replied.
- Did you like my jumper better than dad’s, she asked.
- No, was the reply. (QC is brutally honest, so I thought I should answer the question in the same way she might - truthfully. Don’t get me wrong, she’s never deliberately nasty. She just doesn’t possess the edit button the rest of us have.)
- Aww, she replied, I feel a wee bit offended.
- Not sorry, I said, you wouldn’t want me to lie to you, would you?
Dad also bought QC a jumper. Over Boxing Day dinner the conversation went something like this...
- Dad, see that jumper you bought me?
- Aye.
- I look like shit in it.
Cue much laughter from everyone around the table.
The wee fella was also a big presence during the holidays. As part of his Xmas gifts I bought him DJ Hero for his Xbox. He was delighted with it. Big beaming smile. The conversation went like this...
- THANKS Dad. That was really thoughtful of you.
- What age are you?
- 11 and three quarters. Why?
- You sound about 31 and three quarters.
- You’re weird.
For Hogmanay (New Year’s Eve) I said he could stay up with me. There were some strong comedic moments on BBC 1 Scotland earlier in the evening with Still Game – “enhanced” by the moments when I had to translate the following “baw bag” (scrotum) and ”baw hair” (a hair found on the aforementioned scrotum). Then BBC Scotland resorted to the tried, tested (and failed) Jackie Bird (WHY?) to bring in the New Year with some folk/ pop musicians. As soon as the first fiddle was strummed the wee fella was out of the door – give me a shout when it’s nearly midnight, he said. This stuff is rubbish.
The bells rang out. Fireworks exploded across the TV screen.
- Eesh, it’s only another year. Don’t know what all the fuss is about.
- You’re only 11...
- ...and three quarters.
- ...and three quarters. But wait until you’re my age, a new year becomes a chance to review your life and all the things you want to achieve.
- You’re not THAT old, he replied, and I don’t understand the rest of what you just said.
What would we do without the wee man's insights and truths?
ReplyDeleteHope it's a good one for you, Michael, and the wee fella.
ReplyDeleteyour son is too precious! hope this is a great year for you, Michael! my only resolution is to avoid procrastination. i'll tell you more later... btw, what is a jumper? is it something you wear while quantum jumping or something to do with rain?
ReplyDeleteBill - agreed, he's a wee star.The shame is he doesn't appreciate just how smart he is.
ReplyDeleteRosemary - thanks and the same to you.
Thea - and the same to you. Good luck with the resolution. And a jumper, here in the UK is a sweater. The wonders of a common language, eh?
Oh, a wee fella story. I'm reminded of that song that goes 'first they're young, and then they're old'. Thanks for allowing us to treasure those moments with you. He's so wise.
ReplyDelete