What do Michael Bublé, Peter Kay and Elton John have in common? They’re all getting an audience with Moreen Simpson next year.
So, how was Christmas for you?
Lucky me, it was all I could have wished; delish food and drink, loadsa laughs, and some brilliant prezzies. What more could an al’ wifie want?
Thankfully, I got the gift I’d been hoping for but didnae actually request. Some of you might have been like me and sorely disappointed in 2018 when comic Peter Kay had to cancel his tour, a group of our families having managed to nab prime row B seats in Glasgow.
Last autumn, when word went round it was on again, naebody said a word about rebooking, and I kept schtum because it occurred to me that they were buying my ticket as a Christmas present.
However, the nearer December 25 got, the more I realised that, if they hadn’t – and all his venues are already sold out – I’d be bloomin’ well spittin’ tacks. I imagined my angry disappointment actually ruining the whole day. (I’m aye een for the disaster scenario.)
Praise be, the ticket for the show in May was in an envelope, and I damnt near tiddled masellie with delight. What with Michael Bublé at the end of April and Elton John in June (if he and I are still standin’), I’m fair becomin’ a giggin’ grunnie.
Post-dinner bottom-wigglin’ activities
As usual, various party games after the meal, when losers’ tempers fray (yes, mine). This year’s highlight was Twerk Pong, when a box of white ballies were fixed roon yer waist and you’d to twerk (wiggle yer bum) to empty them oot.
Happily, the wee one won the twerk-off against his dad
They were adamant I would have a go. But I’m nae as feel as I look. For a start, my sciatica would have something to say aboot any bottom-wigglin’ activities. And, after the huge portions of turkey and trifle I’d wolfed, I could have guaranteed I’d emit some sort of explosive backdraught the moment I stuck oot my posterior.
Happily, the wee one won the twerk-off against his dad.
The evening ended just as successfully, thanks to us booking a fine (and reasonable) taxi driver fae Westhill.
Back to the Buffet
I’ve still to have the rest of the family over to exchange presents on New Year’s Day; an occasion when I usually get all flustered over what to feed them. In past years, I’ve done stovies, chilli and curry, but, this time, I’ve opted to go Back to the Buffet, so the wee yins can pick aboot at what they like, when they like.
I’m already in a panic about my food delivery from Asda. Ticky-bets there’ll be loads of things sold oot and I’ll end up with just a pucklie pigs in blankets and a cheese straw. Either that, or I’ll get a’thing I ordered and end up with enough nibbles to feed Pittodrie.
The last time I set oot a buffet, it took as long as preparing a full Sunday roast, so I better be up at the crack. Shattered by 1pm. Bad decision, too late to change. Disaster scenario part two. Ah well, my kids wouldnae recognise me if I wisna stressed oot.
Here’s wishing you all a super New Year when it comes, and a happy, healthy 2023. Cheers!
Moreen Simpson is a former assistant editor of the Evening Express and The Press & Journal, and started her journalism career in 1970
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