Wednesday, 10 December 2014

A tornado of fluff in the run up to Christmas.

The floor.  Oh my goodness - the floor!
It's as if a tornado has whipped up all the cotton and fabric and paper scraps and displaced them at random.
So many foxes, so little space!

In three years I have never been this busy; sleep has taken a back seat, the sewing machine has acquired a solid coating of fluff around the bobbin and the overused printer has been sworn at and loved in equal measure. 
I have learned that working after midnight is decidedly dodgy.
Labels on wrong parcels, heads sewn on upside down, over indulgence of chocolate...

Thank goodness for a fantastic courier and a post office at the top of the road.
Alongside marmite and Vintage TV.

Christmas can wait.
It will be a last minute panic which I'm refusing to think about until a week before.
Plenty of time...

I seem to be developing a bah humbug attitude towards Christmas.
I love the smell of the Christmas tree, mince pies, fairy lights and The Pogues Fairytale in New York.
I have an aversion to the abundance of Christmas tat in the shops.

Gone are the days of large family get togethers; Christmas day has become more fragmented.
It is also the first year that my son will be working.
He officially graduated last week and I'm very proud.
Although he has yet to master the washing up bowl.

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