Sunday Summary // Bi-Monthly Missive | He's all I want, just for me, underneath my Christmas tree ...

Dear FOQ

How is it nearly what I call Christmas!??!?!!?!

I'll apologise to you now; I've probably sent you a card but it took me so long to a) write them, b) address them and b) fork out for enough stamps to send them that they all went second class on Thursday so you should receive them in March. Something to look forward to, then.

Ahem.

Anyway, moving swiftly on (much like this year has).


This fortnight (or so), I have been mostly...

Reading 📕

Is it Just Me?

and snorfling quietly to myself on occasion in solidarity with "Page and Screen" Miranda (since she does seem to have a more defined persona on the page than in person having seen her in interviews and cringed a bit).

It is less of an autobiog, more of an extended, comical opinion piece but in a good way; there are suggestions of autobiographical content through the amusing conversations adult Miranda has with her younger self throughout, but it's largely and at heart a commentary on things she finds particularly weird and awkward. Which is wondrous.

As is the fact that more than once she has used the expression "get a purchase".

Yes. It's "get a purchase", QB.

You've only been misusing this expression for the last four months.

No biggie.

Watching 📺

on the Netflix:

Wonder

based on the YA novel of the same name by RJ Palacio. Very sweet, a little teary, but as ever, Hollywood has taken no risks, and has sensationally downplayed the extent of Auggie's defining facial disfigurement.

Dumplin' 

which is a feel-good flick about self-esteem and identity, and in which Jennifer Aniston is surprisingly wonderful and not at all Rachel-ly.

You go, girl.

And of course because it's Christmas (and at Christmas you watch all the cheesy DVDs), I've also clocked up, so far:

• Animal Attraction
• Bridget Jones
• Bridget Jones: The Edge of Reason
• National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation
• Love Actually (about three times so far this year)
• Serendipity (John Cusack: oh yas. Kate Beckinsale? Shame about her.)
• Part of The Holiday – both Cameron Diaz's and Kate Winslet's overacting killed this one early on for me. (Is it something about English Kates that they grate in American romcoms...?) Not even that cute little cottage (which is apparently in Shere, so not far... Shere... far... wherever you are... ahem) could compensate.
• While You Were Sleeping (I, er, fell asleep watching this on Friday night:

– Yes, original incarnation of Jennifer Aniston, Rachel Green, I fell asleep; it'd been a long week, don't judge me – so I had to finish this one up last night: it is still one of my absolute favourites)

and

• Christmas episodes of Miranda – such fun!

{Ooh! Topical!}

Listening 👂🎶

...almost incessantly to Christmas music (but of course)!

Weird, isn't it, though, how over years your tastes and preferences for festive tuneage change. I'm not saying they evolve but, every so often, there's one tune that sticks with you.

This year, it's this little treat from, wait for it, Britney. Yep.

And there's no official video so, kindly just fill yer ears.

I'm also warming to this classic, after years of mild ambivalence.

I miss David Bowie.

Celebrating (good times, *high pitched* come on!) 🎉🎈🎄

So many good times. Maybe too many. As ever, I found myself filling six of seven days of a week with social shenanigans, by the end of which I needed to decompress and sleep for a while (call it two days!). But those were some good times.

Allow me to elaborate, in the spirit of Craaaaaaaaaig David:

Monday

Trampoline class.

Yes, that's Alan.

Yes, he has his own trampoline.

You're jealous, aren't you.

I only went and got awarded a medal for progress and perseverance! I'll take that, thank you, Springfit!

Alan was very proud. And I of him for his own skillz. So I made him a medal.

Tuesday

Song Club (our social filler in the absence of Voicerox)

Festive-themed. Much prosecco (thanks, Lindsey!).

Much amusement as two of us were forfeited into wearing a shared jumper and singing 'I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus'. (With thanks to Ian and many apologies to Sarah!)

Wednesday

Dinner with the Bestest (at Prezzo, our haunt of choice – they do have the garlic bread pizza and the best voucher codes after all).

Thursday

Drinks with the work beauties (during which I tried to forget that I'm the generation of some of their parents...)

{My girls: Chloe, Emily and Megan}

Friday

Drinks up that there London Tahn with the Foyles Goyls: Clare, Eloise, Evie and Katerina.

Now, this is no reflection whatsoever of my enjoyment of the company of any of you lovely lot but when we FGs get together, we don't often get the chance to take photographs because there's so much catching up, chatting and giggling to do and occasionally the imbibing of Too Much of Wine.

We were quite well behaved this time largely because we ended up in a Jamie's Italian and the wine cost almost as much as a small vineyard and took weeks to be brought to us, so... we went for the one bottle between us in the end.

But in spite of the location (we wanted Brasserie Zedel but they were full until 10pm and apparently quite smug about it, ergo Jamie's which had capacity and a side order of arrogance and a really-hard-to-find door (!)):

we had a lovely evening and laughed, a lot (it's Eloise's pigeon rescue story; it's a classic).

Saturday

Double whammy: after hoofing it (or trottering it?!) back to Reigate to collect, wait for it, More Alans, I then found myself at Fiona, Bianka and tiny Nicholas' gaff for the annual Gingerbread Galore. Always good fun!

Oh, I had such aspirations this year.

I'd barely begun assembling my hippie commune (the theme was Flower Power) when I collapsed one wall beyond repair:

(luckily Bianka had spares) and my grand plan of sealing the walls with melted chocolate also went to pot.

Thankfully I then had the great help of the wondrous Ms Tamsin and her royal icing, and for the first time in, like, forever, my house stayed upright long enough for me to decorate it.

{Got ma concentratin' face on. | Photo by Tamsin}

{Well, I gave it my best shot...! | Photo by Tamsin}

It was fairly primitive but hey. I tried!

{Me Commune | Photo by Bianka}

Here are a couple of the houses that actually succeeded in looking like an adult put them together:

{Susanne's excellent Vee-Dub van! | Photo by Bianka}

{Jos and Frankie's flowerful little cottage | Photo by Bianka}

I was able to recover from my endeavours over pizza and Love Actually (second viewing of the season) at Julie's.

By the following Thursday night (Christmas party night, woohoo!) I was all social-ed up again and ready to rave. Thankfully there was a dance floor (preceded by some really rather scrummy dinner).

I have very few serviceable pictures, if any. Except of Alan.

Everyone was just dancin' too hard.

I do however have a video of young Chloe serenading Alan with 'Come on Eileen (Come on, Alaaaannn)' but I'm not sure she'll appreciate me sharing that (!).

I'll try harder next time.

{Alan! Father Christmas! Flamingos!}

The following night, with Natalie in residence, I'd planned for cocktails and cacophony (of sorts); we ended up settling down in front of Love Actually (third viewing, don't mind if I do!) with cans of cocktail:

and the cacophony came from us giggling at our own splendid humour. Because if you can't do that with your best mate at Christmas, when can you? And trust me, we're hilarious.

Christmas jumper twinsies!

Rudolph the red-haired reindeer!

Case in point?

Watching the end of this scene in Love Actually:

Me: Whatever happened to Dido?
Natalie: ... Did she dido?

...You probably had to be there but this kept us in stitches for hours.

Hours.

Ah, cocktails.

Needless to say we needed a greasy panacea for breakfast. Not to be confused with a greasy pannacotta.

I was back in Kent the next day, and in Maidstone with friend Judi, to spot Ma singing with Rock Choir at All Saints Church.

{Ooh, there's Ma QB!}

The choir sounded splendid in the huge, old church; the added (billed) bonus for this event was that a couple of the songs were accompanied by the huge pipe organ: Cohen's Hallelujah, which worked perfectly with the choir, and Keeping the Dream Alive (Freiheit) which I'm not sure really did (it's a very quiet, almost a cappella song in its original rendition and didn't need so much volume).

A couple of the songs were accompanied by a piano, and a couple by guitar, and the choir's rendition of Beyonce's Halo with piano only was really rather wonderful.

{There she is again!}

Trains being what they are (irregular, unreliable...) Judi and I didn't get to the church in time to get a decent seat off the central aisle so we sat on a side and watched most of the concert on a screen, up until the point whereby the camera operator decided not to bother with focus and just wibbled it around a bit. That was pleasant (!).

The Alans (Surrey and Rockent, who's Ma's Alan) enjoyed the experience.

Especially the prosecco in the pub afterwards.

We spent Sunday morning decorating the Christmas tree to the straining strains of a wonderful Christmas tape that has been with us for quite some time (yes, we're still trying to make tapes great again a la Thirteen Reasons Why). It's not Christmas without Mahalia Jackson spending a good three hours dragging out 'Silent Night'. Bless her.

{Arty farty lametta shot}

{The Harwood Family Christmas Tree}

{Angels}

{A slightly less than angelic gathering ... That's P*ssed off Pearl
and Hacked-off Harriet flanking the Alans, there. They have attitude.}

{Why yes, that is a tiny, tiny stocking. It's for Alan. Natch.}

That evening, I met Charlie and Al (lovely human Al, not another one of our Porcine Pals) for a delicious and long-overdue catch-up at the Carbery. Because Sundays need roasts.

The social shenanigans continued the following week but with slightly less freneticism (is that a word? Is now).

Not going to lie, I have actually had to consult my Google Calendar (other online calendars are available) to remind myself what I did.

Monday: last Springfit/trampoline class of the year and I still haven't mastered swivel-hips. Oh well, something to work on next year!
Tuesday: spent the whole night wrapping presents...
Wednesday: was back up in London:

Ooh, look at da pretty lights!

{Piggy photobomb!}

where I met Ma, Pa and our young friend Cassie for a scrumptious dinner at Bill's and a long-due catch-up.

We did of course explain the cult of Alan to her.

I think she got it.

Thursday: recovered.
Friday: finished work at lunchtime and met Natalie and the littles-who-aren't-so-little-any-more-sob for lunch at a local garden centre. Alan's presence was requested. Natalie and I perused the shop afterwards and the littles-who-are-still-little-enough-to-be-wonderfully-silly played in a Wendy house.

All in all, a lovely end to an exhausting work-year.

The Adventures of Surrey Alan 🐷

from henceforth referred to as:

If you're still not quite on board with the whole cult of Alan, then the following little video montage might not be for you.

If you're fully indoctrinated, however, enjoy some of Surrey Alan's finest moments of the last couple of weeks:

Link Love 🔗💓

• Miley Cyrus updates 'Santa Baby' and it's rather brilliant:

on The Tonight Show

• Blatant branding aside: enjoy this Home Alone throwback advert:

And finally... again...

If you've ever suffixed a perfectly innocent comment with a noise like this:

"Phnar phnar"

then this article may be for you.

• Get your hands off my double entendres | Is the smutty pun now under attack? | on The Guardian

Merry Christmas, ya marvellous lot!

Thanks for stickin' by me in my elusive dance of elusivity (again, a word? Is it?). I hope to be less crap next year.

qb xx