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Old Richy Sunak bought six boxes of mince pies for key workers today. Embarrassingly for him someone filmed his unawkward act of benevolence. But thanks to him 48 key workers will be getting a mince pie each this Christmas. Maybe more than one if there are fewer than 48 key workers in the country. And in the unlikely event that there are more then they can have half a pie each. That’s 96 key workers. Though it’s possible that Richy might want to give some of them to Tory backers or Matt Hancock’s mates, so it might be the case that the key workers have to put in a few million mince pies. But by any standards this one pie/half a pie/minus a million pies is a great reward for all the hard work the key workers have put in this year. And great to have a Prime Minister who can not only take pies off a shelf in a way that suggests he’s never had to do that before, but who also appreciates the people who keep the country going and saves them the problems that he knows only too well, what to do if you have some excess money.
It was Christmas Eve Eve and we had a family day, watching Christmas films and dragging at least one reluctant child on a dog walk (that they eventually forgot to sulk about when they got to play in muddy puddles). The kids were in their pyjamas, though Ernie pretty much wrecked his with mud and by sliding down a pile of stones that were going to be used to repair the track.
We watched A Muppet Christmas Carol. As usual I wondered if it would be possible to have the perfect Christmas Carol where Scrooge learns his lesson and changes for the good, but Tiny Tim also dies.
It must be about time for a Christmas Carol where someone who loves Christmas too much and is too into the commercialisation of it all at the expense of all sense and still being a cunt the rest of the year, learns to hate Christmas. And then back again. And so on for infinity.
I had bought some Quality Street at the supermarket this morning, because Christmas isn’t Christmas and for a few days at least I have permission from myself to eat some. In the 70s we had a tin as big as a swimming pool (Olympic), but the only available packs today were boxes with about 20 sweets in it. That’s not even one Christmas portion (which is of course 500 per person).
It's crazy to be suddenly eating all the things that I have abstained from (or cut right back on0 foir the last third of a year, but even though it's fun, I am already looking forward to getting rid of them again. Just not yet.
