Exercise excorcism exhortation extirpated   Leave a comment

Expedition exonerated excellently; extrapolation expunged.

New Year’s Day. I was tired. But not hungover! So that was a nice change.

I had to get up a bit early, because we were supposed to be at my uncle’s before one. He only lives a couple of miles away, so I took the opportunity to have a nice walk (my mother protested that I could be picked up; for somebody who extolls the virtues of fresh air and exercise, she seems to hate the idea of anybody actually getting any) and listen to Rum Doings on the way. The weather was pleasant and mild, and it didn’t take much longer than 25 minutes (and both ears of my headphones worked for over twenty of those), so despite setting out late I arrived at ten past one. Which was some time before anybody coming by car. I helped decapitate and nudify some prawns in the meantime.

We had prawn cocktails for starters, and beef and (particularly tasty) lamb with all the trimmings for main course (not turkey, hurrah! It normally is, and turkey is the boringest of all the murders). Then Bolt was on the telly, and I played a bit of Zelda Trains on my DS and did some typing on my ‘phone. Afters were Christmas pud with brandy butter, which I’d never tried before*, and an apple sponge crumble bake thing.

Food over, everybody tried not to fall asleep in front of Wall-E. Most failed. Wall-E is one of those films that I like more than I think I do, but it is rather sickeningly twee, isn’t it? Then I like things with bad endings; I really liked Twelve Monkeys until somebody pointed out something I’d missed and so, yes, they do get the baddie at the end. Boo!

Despite nobody being hungry, we then had supper. Fortunately it was only a mini-buffet with a few things on it. And I do love a buffet (I’ve said that before, right?). So more food was scoffed.

By half eleven, everybody wanted to go home to bed. I said I’d walk, which caused everybody else to protest most vociferously that I would surely be killed and murdered and slaughtered, as it was dark and the pubs were closing and so on and so forth. I insisted, and despite the rampant paranoia managed to walk home entirely unmolested. In fact I only walked past one other person, and he seemed much more interested in his chips than embarking on a murderous rampage directed at somebody bigger than he. It was a quiet evening, a pleasant walk, and surprisingly warm; I had to take my coat off.

My earbuds died, though. Turns out that Creative EP-830s are flimsy rubbish.

 
* Normally we have brandy sauce, because that’s what we’ve always done and my family doesn’t change its ways if it can possibly help it. Unfortunately, my grandmother always made the sauce, and after she died it took several years for everyone to figure out how it was done. One year I made it perfectly, so the following I was entrusted again; alas, some mishap meant we wound up with brandy frogspawn.

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