Erm.  Does anyone know where large, extremely fragile, hand-painted glass baubles can be obtained, preferably without having to travel to Austria?

My character for tonight’s murder party is a burglar. Costume – stripey jumper, swag bag, burglar mask.

I have had no time to shop, so it’s a stripy jumper from the wardrobe stripy long-sleeved T from P’s wardrobe, a strange briefcase I got free from Viking once to have my “safe-cracking tools” in and – since I haven’t been to a costume shop, for the mask, I bought… a pair of tights. The stocking-over-the-head look is far more frightening than a comedy mask.

Just one thing – even with a tight over my head, there’s no doubting it’s me. It doesn’t disguise me at all! Just as well I really wasn’t planning on holding anywhere up.

P is going as a detective, so amongst the props I’ve bought him a Hamlet cigar. I just had to pop down to the Co-op for a pair of tights and a cigar. The guy on the till looked at me a bit strangely and said he hoped I’d have a really good night.
Happy New Year to all my readers!

Off to see my parents shortly – they’ve kindly agreed to meet me in a pub halfway between home and here so that we both get a reduced drive.

The pub is in Droitwich, just off the motorway.  The normal drive home takes about three hours, half of which is driving 2/3rds of the distance on the motorway, and then just as long driving fewer miles on twisty country roads.  By meeting in Droitwich, my parents don’t have to do the motorway driving, which they don’t like, and I don’t have to do the twisty country roads, which I don’t get much practice of.  Ideal!

A colleague is having a New Year’s Eve murder party, rather like we will be, and mentioned in passing that she needed a gun.

I have a gun, that’s just gathering dust at home, a toy, prop-gun I bought for a fancy dress party last year, so I promised to bring it in to work today to lend to her.

She’s only part time, and I arrived today after I knew she would have left, so I called by her house to let her have it.

I felt self conscious just crossing the road from the car to the house whilst packing heat and was then caught in a dilemma when no-one answered the door.  Can I post a gun through the letterbox?  Was I even sure I had the right house?  Is knocking on someone’s door, whilst holding a gun, a good idea?  Is it best to hold it openly, or to conceal it in one’s coat?

Much later in the evening, colleague’s husband came to the office to discuss something else so I passed the gun to him to take home.  I had to go back to my car to retrieve it, and by the time I got back, he was sitting in his car.  Which meant I had to walk over with a gun in my hand and tap on the window.  Good job he was expecting me.

Actually carrying a gun is pretty strange to me. I’ve never shot a real one of any sort, and certainly never want to have to fire one in anger.  I think it might be interesting to spend an afternoon in a rifle range somewhere to find out what shooting is like, but I’m pretty unlikely ever to hit a target.

Despite never handling a real one, I know all about guns from US films and TV shows.  I know how handle one, to clean it, never to point it at anyone; how to hold one together with a torch, how to pistol-whip someone.  It’s amazing how a prop gun takes on a life when you pick it up.  It’s fascinating what play-acting occurs to people when you give them a toy gun.

In all the day I’ve had it, I’m really glad I didn’t bump into anyone who thought it was real, or who had to take a split-second decision on whether or not it was real.

It’s 3am on Boxing Day.

I could go to bed.

Or I could get out my digital camera, my tripod, and all the marvellous clothes I’ve been given and while the midnight hours away making more animated gifs.

They seemed to like the idea on B3ta, anyway.

The washing machine has gone from domestic saviour to unmentionable in one easy hop.

Yesterday I put a load on. Tonight I take it out. As you do, I spin the drum to see if anything is stuck… and dun-dun-DAHH!

The drum scrapes. Not a good sign.

When I’m sorting the washing five minutes later, I find Exhibit 1:

Now, had this been an older sock, it would not have been so unusual a sight. Many of my older socks are tatty around the tops as the elastic fails. But this was a prime, luxury, comfortable, pure merino wool M&S sock. It has met with an untimely end. It has been savaged by washing machine, and we will not be resting until the culprit is brought to justice.

Not least because we don’t dare wash anything else.

Well, that all went well. Christmas dinner on the table shortly before 2.30pm, thanks to the miracle of oven timer. Oven did turn itself on before I made it out of bed.

A huge plateful for P: turkey, gravy, roast spuds, roast parsnips, sprouts, carrots, chestnut stuffing, bread sauce, home-made grape jelly, pigs in blankets. I didn’t have the bread sauce, sprouts or parsnips because I don’t like those things, and now that I’m old enough to cook my own Christmas dinner, I decide what I eat!

Now the dishwasher is having its turn. The cats are turning their nose up at turkey giblets. Maybe it’s still too hot for them.

I think I must have done turkey in 2004.  This year’s turkey breast was a little bit pink (despite being completely cooked) and I remembered being worried at the last one.

My Christmas pud is boiling away now – P doesn’t like that, so it’s just for me. Had to be boiled because the old microwave went out with the old kitchen and we haven’t got a new one yet.

Presents all good. Lots of lovely clothes. Now a brief hiatus before Dr Who later on.

With any luck, we’re all organised for Christmas.

Last year we were a bit too involved with house moving.

The year before, 2004, I definitely cooked Christmas dinner, but I am wracking my brain to think what I cooked.  I can remember a nut roast was involved – P requested it instead of stuffing.

But did I do turkey?  I can remember going out to buy a bigger roasting tin that didn’t fit in the oven.  (It fits the new oven)

I’ve spent the day wrapping tens of presents for Boxing Day, and getting all ready for tomorrow.

The turkey is in the oven and the timer set.  The sprouts, carrots, parnsips and spuds are all prepared and sitting in pans of water on the hob.

So back to vegging out in front of the telly.  Torchwood, Chicken Run, Duet Impossible, East Enders (! wtf??) and Casualty.  Hours of TV I’d never normally watch.