Christmas etc

A run down on this week (TW), compared with last (LW):Incidences of car sex TW: 0, LW: 1 Weddings attended in which the best man thanks the bride’s ‘Maternal Father’ TW: 1, LW: 0Number of times I am thus suitably mystified by my friend’s family tree TW: can’t count that high, LW: 0 Christmas days TW: 1, LW: 0Apparent length of Christmas day in Millennia: TW: about 12.5, LW: n/a Consequently, number of full meals consumed TW: 32 million, LW: 1Number of times I am confronted at work bybush lawyers who tell me the floor is slippery and I will get sued TW: 32 million (successively), LW: 4Number of times the aforementioned are considerate enough to stop winging to me and actually warn other people of danger TW: -47, LW: 0Yes, that’s what I believe is called Christmas spirit - and it is apparently something that is never more prevalent than in retail situations, especially large shopping centres. (As an aside, I have noticed recently that these places have earned the generic term ‘Westfields’, kind of like vacuum cleaners are called ‘Hoovers’. Actually, there are a couple of other similarities between Westfields and Hoovers: both are large, ugly, noisy and full of stuff you don’t want in your house.)Despite the abundance (!) of food, Christmas Day 2003 was something of a success for Cosime in that nothing actually went wrong. This compares well with previous years. Here are some selected highlights:2002: I was in Adelaide. Enough said.1996: My Mum ran over a lizard on the way to my cousins’ place. The Charade made a sort of thump as we went over it, and the parts of the said animal that didn’t get sprayed up the left side doors were stamped down the road in intervals unnervingly similar to the circumference of a Bridgestone tyre.1995: I stepped on a bee. I spent the rest of the day on anti-histamines and thus on another planet. (I guess that’s not all that bad really. Note for next year.)1987: At age five, confronted with a new pet dachshund, I had the wisdom to name it ‘Tiz’, of all things. The dog lived for over fifteen years, having been neither run over by my mum or suiciding in shame over its name. She was put down last March and now resides under a Camellia in Mum’s yard. The plant seems to be doing well of late - I’m told that plants with a taproot undergo something of a spurt a few months after being planted above a deceased canine. Tiz lives on.My favourite gift for this year was not an animal of any sort though. It was something given to me by my auntie who only recently found out about my boy-loving tendencies: a pair of blue bath towels. Very clever. Two matching pairs of slippers next Christmas probably. (My Catholic family seems to find my faggotness a novelty you see. I guess its better than being chucked out of home or stoned to death like the Catholics used to do.)To my small readership I send much love and best wishes for the New Year.