I don't do Christmas.
That is a complete and utter lie.
Obviously, in a Catholic household that is stacked to the rafters with kids, someone has to. And we all know where relying on the Father of This Lot would get us, don't we?
What I meant to say was I don't do Christmas in September, October or November. In fact I don't usually even mention it until we get into Advent. (WELL into it, if I've got anything to do with it, but I digress).
The department store which (foolishly) employs the Football Fanatic was having a one-day 20% off sale last week. Add to that her 20% staff discount and the 3 for 2 offer on all Christmas gifts, toys and games, it was, quite frankly, an offer I couldn't refuse.
Unfortunately, the one-day-sale clashed with my school trip day, so I couldn't go.
It was decision time.
Should I miss out on the opportunity of getting most of the Christmas presents at almost half price, or should I......horror of horrors........trust the Football Fanatic to get the presents for everybody ON HER OWN WITH NO ASSISTANCE??
It was a tough one.
I thought long and hard.
And finally.....I succumbed. ('Mum, how hard can it be? What could possibly go wrong?')
And so, on the morning in question, we set off in different directions.
Me, to the Arctic wastelands, and she to town..........with a list.
Re-living the events which led to this post has quite frankly worn me out, so you'll have to wait till tomorrow for Part Two.
But before I go, I must admit to being quite dismayed at some of the comments I got on yesterday's post. Some of you seemed to think that I had MADE UP the biretta/beretta comment by the Football Fanatic.
Would I lie to you?
Ask yourselves, in all honesty, living with this lot, do I need to?
I PROMISE YOU, she really did say that!
And for anyone who didn't get it, this is a biretta:
....a cap worn by the Roman Catholic clergy, mainly abandoned sometime around 1970, when we went over to the new style Mass......
.....and THIS is a beretta:
......a handgun usually featured in gangster films.
Actually, Fr. J thought it was quite funny.
But then, he adores the Football Fanatic. Has done since she was a little girl.
It comes of never actually having to live with her, I expect.