Dear Santa.

Dear Santa,

I can't claim to have been a good boy this year. I've said nasty things, had lots of evil thoughts, and I've cast spells on certain of my French neighbours.

I really don't know why I bother writing to you each year. As usual, you totally ignored my wishes last year, and I presume you will do so again this year.

Anyway, if you change your ways and are prepared to give me what I ask for, I had thought of asking you for a Thistle Shaped Whiskey glass, but I've just found one. Instead I would really like two new legs, two new hips, a new right knee, and a decent painless lower back. I'm sure I asked for the same things last year but because you chose to ignore me they've all got worse.

Please send tummy-tickles and a few carrots to the Reindeer, and if my wishes are granted I shall leave a glass of single malt whisky (in an ordinary tumbler), and a mince pie by the fireside on Boxing Day night (not before!).

Many thanks. Cro xx

Today I have a big smile on my face!

 

I'm so happy.

There's something I've been looking for for ages, and yesterday I found it.

Every Winter I buy myself just one bottle of really good and expensive Single Malt Whisky. This year's bottle comes from the small distillery of Aerstone, and as I have yet to broach it, I have great hopes.

The best Whiskies require a really good glass, something that compliments it perfectly. Whisky glasses come in all shapes and sizes, but the very best must be the heavy antique Scottish crystal glasses in the form of a Thistle. They simply feel 'correct'.

I'd looked on various web sites, but nothing quite came up to scratch, or they were sold in sets. Some were wildly expensive antiques, and beyond my set limit. 

Brighton's 'Snoopers Paradise' antique market in Kensington Gardens, is awash with interesting things, as are all such shops the world over. You can imagine my delight when I spotted exactly what I'd been looking for, and at the right price; which so rarely happens.

Anyway, here it is, and on account of a very small chip, it cost me just £6. I shall treasure it, and use it, every Winter from henceforth.

Boo Boo and The Cherub.

Absent friends (grandchildren). All the family are with us this year, except for these two and their parents. 

I wonder if we'll ever manage to get everyone together again?

Here they are from a few years ago, enjoying Christmas somewhere in the Caribbean (probably Cayman). I wonder what Christmas will be like at their current location, in Thailand.

So, Hello boys... it's Grumpy here. I hope you'll have a lovely day. We will be thinking of you! xxx

And as an after-thought, just to make you gasp, here is a picture of the daffs in the churchyard yesterday morning. I had to add the photo. Very Spring-like.

 

We're getting there!

Why is it that when you're just trying to work in peace, there's always someone around who wants to surreptitiously take your photo?

Well, here I was in my temporary residence chez Kimbo, with his large Cricketing portrait in the background, supposedly minding my own business.

With my daughter, Tenpin, still in residence at our bijou home a few hundred yards away, we shall remain here until about the 27th. 

Plans are now being made for the big day. Who will peel the spuds, who will bring the extra chairs required, who will prepare the canapés, who will create this year's spectacular Turkey stuffing? How, indeed, will that perfectly cooked Turkey get from one house to the other? More decisions are needed.

Battle plans are being drawn-up, time-tables written, and menus meticulously planned. Wines need to be chosen wisely, and the very finest glasses buffed to perfection. Will any guests suddenly claim to be veggie, or will some simply claim not to be hungry? Who knows!

Why on earth do we make such a fuss about Christmas lunch? It's always chaotic, but we love it that way. My son, Kimbo, is taking charge this year. As a high-flying senior executive he's used to being super efficient and authoritative. We'll all do as we're told; especially me!

I can't wait.

 

DID's

Desert Island Discs must be one of my favourite radio programmes. It fulfills most of my listening criteria; it entertains, informs, and it allows me to be critical.

The BBC's Radio 4 Extra channel has recently been airing old editions under the title of 'revisited', and they have been fascinating.

If given the opportunity to go on the show myself, I have always thought that I would be honest about my choice of music, and not try to impress. Others do the opposite; and it really shows.

So, there you are, stuck on this desert island with a wind-up gramophone and just eight records; you could be there for years. Would you really want to listen to The Laughing Policeman or Wagner's Symphony in C Major?

I recently listened to Glenda Jackson's (actress and MP) choice and thought what a very strange woman she must have been. I also recently listened to Len Goodman (dancer and dance teacher) and ended-up really liking him; and his choice of music. Given a choice of Desert Island Mates, I would certainly put Mr Goodman near the top of my list, and probably Ms Jackson near the bottom.

Maya Angelou was also on recently, and what a lovely person she seemed. Her selection of music was also very interesting.

Umeboshi

When I learned that Tenpin (my daughter) would be staying in Tokyo for a week or so, my first thought was 'Umeboshi'. "Bring some".

I had only eaten them once before, when they were given as a gift by a Japanese girl. However, their flavour has haunted me, and this was the perfect opportunity to reacquaint myself.

If you have never tasted Umeboshi, or even heard of them, I shall try to give some idea of what they are.

They are small Ume Japanese plums that have been salted and flavoured with red shisho leaves, then left to dry in the sun for a few days. I believe the Ume plums are more like apricots than actual plums.

They taste salty and vinegary. Not, maybe, to everyone's taste, but they are to mine.

Umeboshi are quite expensive to buy in the UK, so next year I intend to make some myself. I won't be able to buy Ume plums, but I shall try with either Mirabelles or the semi wild small plums that we grow in France, that we call Bird plums. Maybe I'll try both. I'm not certain of success, but I shall report back on my efforts next summer.

In Japan they claim that if you eat one Umeboshi per day, you will never need to see a doctor. What better recommendation could there be! 

 

WANTED.

 

I am looking for eleven men, who demonstrate a good standard of Footballing skills, who would be prepared to dress as, and look like, women in order to compete in the UK's Women's Football League, and eventually (hopefully) win their league cup.

You would need to look reasonably feminine, but this isn't essential. A team of make-up artists, dressers,  and gender coaches would soon help with your 'look'. The most important quality is to be able to run rings around a 'ladies' team, and win every match (think Lia Thomas in swimming).

The rewards should be substantial. Fame, wealth, and kudos, will all come your way. You would all be able to buy large modern show-homes in Essex, own very fast cars, and have a gorgeous wife husband on your arm.

Of course there would always be a few fuddy-duddy spoil-sports who claim that trans-women shouldn't compete against 'genuine' women, but that type of transphobia will always raise its ugly head. We will simply ignore them. If we say we're a women's team, then that's what we are; end of story.

Contact Cro with your full details; preferably with a photo of yourself in drag. There are only eleven places to fill, so please be prompt.