How was it for you? Whether you were with family and friends or on your own, I hope you had a happy, relaxing day.
Thanks to Not-now-so-Nippy Nicola (fa’d hiv her job?) granting us our one day of truce from this hellish virus on the 25th, I was excited to be able to spend it with my grand-Toots.
Or at least I was until it all went pear-shaped on Christmas Eve … In the best cliffhanger tradition I’ll tell you all about it next week.
But my other seasonal surprise came on Monday the 21st. Lo, a good man appeared from the east of my hoosie and performed a Christmas miracle – ie my son-in-law on a special mission; reddin’ oot the junk magnet that is my garage, so jam-packed you could barely get a toy car in there.
Down-sizing to this hoosie 15 years ago, I stuffed everything I’d no room for, but couldn’t bear to chuck, in there.
Since then, it’s been all one-way traffic – inwards. Loadsa the Toots’ old gubbins like cots, potties, toys, too bachled for Bernardo’s.
Clapped-oot plastic chairs, ancient (gads) mattresses, boxes of past-Christmas junk. You name it… So this wonderful loon got to work dredgin’ into the depths, packin’ his car and headin’ for The Tip. The more that disappeared, the higher I got.
Losh min, I could actually spot the concrete floor! For years my best pal has been asking to see my first wedding album, circa 1974, because she can’t remember anything about being a guest, along with her husband – who died tragically, aged 28, just a year or so later.
I kept insisting I recalled seeing the pic of them. But the album had disappeared.
So on Monday, when the loon was on his first Tip trip, I spotted a Shore Porters’ box under a pile of suitcases. Could this be where I’d stashed my album? Spik aboot excited. When he came back, we excavated. No joy. Christmas decorations circa 2000.
No sweat; one wall of the garage done-and-dusted. He turned to the other, only to spot yet another unopened Shore Porters’ box under a pile of heavy stuff I’d always baulked at trying to move.
Written on the front: “Pictures.” Mo, why couldn’t you have been a bittie more precise?
Sez he: “This might be it,” unearthing a white plastic baggie and – the blessed Martin Johnston bookie inside. There was indeed my dear friend (in a long, purple dress) and her so-handsome late husband.
I was teary when I phoned, then emailed the pic to her. Thought she’d be the same.
Yet she’s made of sterner stuff. Delighted, touched. But no-nonsense, as ever.
Here’s her: “How come you haven’t opened these boxes in 15 years?” Then: “And what the HECK am I wearing?”
I love you too. And cheers to my garage-busting hero.
Telly chiefs offered no treasures
Nae that I want to be a Dismal Jimmy, but don’t you agree the ‘festive’ telly fare was utterly neeps?
I’m usually all excited waiting to see the treats the various channels have laid out for us from Christmas Eve.
But this year everyone seemed to be serving up a menu of utter dross. Certainly nothing worth recording.
The ITV highlight seemed to be the Britain’s Got Talent Spectacular – a series I stopped watching yonks ago, when it became so ruddy unspectacular.
Please no; The Vicar of Dibley, the truly awful Mrs Brown’s Boys.
Loadsa repeats featuring the dearly departed, but obviously irreplaceable, like Victoria Wood, Dad’s Army, Freddie Mercury, George Michael. Film premiere of the day La La Land, my most loathed musical. And David Walliams a’wye!
I understand how the pandemic has precluded a swathe of new productions, but surely the telly bosses could have delved into their archives and come up with some real treasures.
Yes Morecambe and Wise yet again, but also some of the Stanley Baxter shows, which truly were spectacular. A brilliant way to honour the great man, still going at 94.
So I’ll just grin and bear the drivel and look forward to the fifth series of The Crown some time in 2021, Covid willing, with Imelda Staunton taking over from Olivia Colman as the Queen.
Lizzie and I canna wait.
Just one wish for the new year ahead
I will be back next Saturday, January 2.
I won’t hope you have a hooley on Hogmanay, otherwise you might end up in Lodge Walk.
As for New Year’s greetings, there’s nothing any of us want and pray for but an end to this terrifying virus which has infected our world.
Most of us are not even thinking about planning special occasions or holidays until we’re sure Covid has been conquered.
So, for 2021, I wish you the obvious – a quick and painless needle in your arm, as soon as humanly possible.
This article originally appeared on the Evening Express website. For more information, read about our new combined website.