So that was Christmas. It was alright, I’ve known worse. I’ve known better too. We closed the shop at 2 o’clock on Saturday and I got home somewhere about four, leaving it all ready for stripping out and repainting the kitchen this week. I know how to enjoy the festive season. We had to get the drinks in and a few last minute bits of food shopping too, so that was the early evening accounted for. I saw they had the bluray disc of Atomic Blonde in the supermarket so I slipped it into the trolley.
All I knew about the film is that it’s set in cold-war era Berlin and it stars Charlize Theron. I usually enjoy spy movies, I also enjoy most films set in continental European cities, and all I can say about Charlize Theron is that if I were a woman I would be strongly tempted to become a lesbian. Extremely so. Especially if I found out that she was one too. But then I’d probably make my way to Los Angeles, find out where her favourite cafe is and start hanging around there, hoping to bump into her accidentally on numerous occasions. I reckon the situation would quickly deteriorate into accusations of stalking and counter accusations of blatant incitement, then the inevitable restraining orders, hate-mail and quite unjustified internet trolling followed by a short but extremely uncomfortable residence in prison, where I’d most likely become Big Shaqui’ta’s dirty little bitch, and then a brutal deportation. That would cause the self loathing to kick in, and then I’d go and do something really stupid. Like getting a tattoo of Charlize Theron’s face on my chest with my nipples where her eyes should be and a bottomless abyss of paranoia and suspicion in my navel. Thinking about it I don’t reckon I want to become a lesbian after all. It doesn’t sound that much fun really, does it? Quite grim, actually.
So I was quite looking forward to watching the movie with a glass or two of gimlet or maybe Gin & Tonic. My new favourite drinks.
If you haven’t watched the film, I won’t spoil it for you by disclosing the plot, praising the screenplay with its realistic dialogue or admiring the period detail. Mainly because there weren’t any. What a pile of shite. I know it’s only meant to be entertainment, not a documentary, but it wasn’t. I’ve seen telly adverts for payday loan companies that were more entertaining and convincing. Yeah, I’m the 21st century’s Barry Norman. I watched the old Beatles’ movie ‘Hard Day’s Night’ today. That’s a great film. Probably because the 1960s London landscape was the background to my childhood, and the songs were what I grew up to. And didn’t those boys dress sharp before hippiedom came along to drag them down!
We spent Christmas eve at my oldest daughter Anna’s, and her husband Ali* made us all a slow cooked Lebanese lamb dish with herby salad, carrot and yogurt dip and piles of flatbread. It was gorgeous, especially washed down with lashings of fizzy white wine. Jess 11 the granddaughter was well choked (in a state of extreme excitement and happiness) to realise we’re taking her to Amsterdam in February for her present and George 14 the oldest has convinced me that the only suitable birthday treat for him will be if I take him to Berlin in the Spring for a boys only weekend. I was persuaded by his reasoning. Alfie 7 and Stan 5 were very happy too. So all good there. We spent the afternoon playing games and the evening watching George do his singing and then Me Myself & Irene and a couple of episodes of Bottom. All classy stuff, I’m sure you’ll agree.
We had a quiet Christmas day. Rach.a.El had her face buried in her phone as usual and my son Joe is back home with us having broken up with his woman after three years. He spent most of the day in his room looking tearful and lost. Anita worries about him. My other daughter Sarah phoned, she was a bit subdued because her two oldest boys had to spend the day with their wastrel lying shite of a father, and she was having a quiet day with David, husband no.2, who’s a much better dad to the boys, and their youngest two. They are all staying with us over New Year. All of them. What have I done? I know what I’ve done. I’ve got a huge fucking dinner to cook on New Year’s Day.
So that could have been better and it could have been worse. We ate well though, and were well hydrated.
So here we are today. Earlier today Anna’s first husband, Geo’s dad, came around ours with his second wife and Geo’s little half brother. They live up north in Surrey. The branches of the family tree are many and quite entangled. My little Juanita is back at work tonight so I’m going to watch a film on the telly. Nikita or Leon. I’m going to flip a coin.
I hope both of you, my lovely readers, had a good Christmas, despite the adversities that life seems to delight in chucking at us sometimes, and hope we all have a much better 2018.
Night night. X
*Ali. He’s not Lebanese in case you were wondering. The food was. His name isn’t. It’s short for Alastair. He’s not Scottish either. In case you were wondering about that too.