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Relief Strikes

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So… It’s almost done. Yesterday we moved our entire world seven miles north. I’m actually very happy with our new place and the result, though that’s pending unpacking and finding everything.

My fingernails have grown out of all control due to my inability for some time now to find the clippers which have been well and truly packed. I am starting to look like a Mandarin (the Chinese sort like Fu Manchu, not the small orange fruit you peel and eat sections of.)

This weekend I will finally have a house with enough extra space to accomodate my rocking chair, made as a present for me by son of Uncle Fester (I suppose that makes him Pugsley, but he won’t be very happy with that.) Now all I need is a porch and a shotgun and I’ll be able to sit there on a sunday watching the kids playing on the village green and say things like “no dang li’l s.o.b’s gonna git his ball back from mah lawn!”

Mrs Moosehunter is currently at the house and dealing with some unpacking. I say ‘some’, because she has done the absolute essentials in the living room and bedroom, but is borderline obsessive with getting her kitchen unpacked. The new cooker arrived this afternoon, so when I get home I have the sneaking suspicion there will have been baking. Either that or the freshly-painted kitchen will be black and sooty and Mrs M will be sitting on the back step rocking slowly backwards and forwards muttering to herself while covered in carbon. Hmmm. Must ring her and make sure she’s ok.

Now that I’m slightly less tired and a bit more relaxed I seem to be happier and can perhaps relate a couple of doozies from the decorating. (I use the word doozie largely because Mrs M hates me using it and I like to wind her up.) On (erm…) Tuesday night I think (? It’s all a bit of a blur now) I was painting the stairs and hall and Mrs M was doing the living room and utility room. We decided that in order to work particularly late and still have a relaxing drink, we’d stay at my parents’ overnight. Yay. It worked out nicely. Especially when Mrs M had rather a lot of wine and then went back to painting again. Oh boy was it funny. Of course she was stressed, so I couldn’t laugh at the time and had to store it all up for later. At the end of the night, when she’d almost finished the utility room, but gave up on the last wall, I went in to have a look before we left. The word that sprang to mind at the time was ‘hap-hazard’. It started out very neat and then gradually began to look like she’d strapped rollers and brushes all over her and continually hurled herself at the walls. I had to summon up all my self control not to laugh. But it was fine. She was at least relaxed for the first time all week. In the end it doesn’t look bad at all, but that one night when it had looked like paint-covered cats had been fighting in there? Oh boy.

Then there was the actual moving last night. The job was done by the Geordie (who kindly supplied us with, and drove, the van) and the twins, Uncle Fester and Uncle Festerer. And myself of course. Uncle Festerer had a hard time of it really, carrying almost all the heavy stuff, being repeated smacked upside the head by randomly opening drawers or doors, hit in the chin with a 19″ monitor, doing a passable impression of a ball on a pinball machine while trying to get through the front door and along the hall carrying a refrigerator. Today he will be bruised I’m sure. And not the GOOD way!

I’m kind of busy now so will update as and when, but in the meantime, I will leave you with a Christmas poem:

Twas the (Party) before Christmas Poem

By Clement Moore (arranged by Moosehunter)

  • Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
  • Not a creature was stirring, not even a moose.
  • The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
  • The girl was still in them unconscious and bare.
  • The guests were all nestled all snug in their beds,
  • While visions of Ali-G danced in their heads.
  • And mamma in her ‘kerchief, and I in my cap,
  • Were drinking Grolsch lager beer straight from the tap.
  • When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
  • I sprang from the chair to see what was the matter.
  • Away to the window I flew like a flash,
  • Put my hand through the glass and threw up on the sash.
  • The neighbour was mooning right there in the snow
  • While the stars shed their light on the asshole below.
  • When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
  • But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer.
  • With a little old driver, it must be St Nick,
  • I tried to get closer but instead I was sick.
  • More rapid than eagles his reindeer they came,
  • And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!
  • “Now Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen!
  • On, Comet! On, Cupid! on Donner and Blitzen!
  • To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
  • Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!”
  • As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
  • When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky.
  • So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,
  • I froze as I watched them, passed out and went blue.
  • And then, as I woke, I now heard on the roof
  • The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
  • As I staggered and spun blearily turning around,
  • Down the chimney St Nicholas came with a bound.
  • He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
  • And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot.
  • A bundle of Toys he had flung on his back,
  • And just like Gary Glitter he emptied his sack.
  • His eyes-how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
  • Just like Michael Jackson when he lost his cherry!
  • His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
  • And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow.
  • The stump of a reefer tight in his teeth,
  • And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.
  • He had a broad face and a little round belly,
  • That shook when he laughed, like a bowlful of jelly!
  • He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
  • And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself!
  • A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
  • And I asked if he’d give me his reefer instead.
  • He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
  • Took the girl in the stockings, and started to jerk.
  • And laying his finger aside of his nose,
  • And giving a nod, up her chimney he rose!
  • He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
  • And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
  • But I heard him exclaim, ‘ere he drove out of sight,
  • “Happy Christmas to all, and a bloody good night!

See you all over or after the weekend.



Written by SJAT

January 5, 2010 at 4:55 pm

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