It is December the 21st and I am in a room full of strangers (well, almost full and I am with my friend, E, who is awesomeness personified). In this room (almost) full of strangers are a series of trestle tables upon which are laid out a couple of hundred cadavers. No, I am not in some weird CSI nightmare, unless it is an avian massacre episode. Yes, my friends, I am in a room (almost) full of dead birds. In fact I am at a turkey auction. Happy Christmas everyone! Continue reading “Tinsel, Turkeys and Traditions (or a Christmas Story)”
We are feeling particularly Christmassy this weekend after kick starting the Festive Season by bearing witness to the big Turn On in Frome. Standing in the cold, wet and windy market square in Frome Town has become as much a tradition as putting up the Christmas tree, or eating turkey. This year was particularly impressive as building projections played a part of the seasonal illumination.
I can’t believe we’re in Switzerland and it’s raining on Christmas Day. Where’s the snow for goodness sake?
It’s not been so much ‘do you want to build a snowman’ as ‘let it go’ as we stay inside and pretend to build one with the Elsa and Anna dolls that we finally managed to purchase for T’s Christmas present (only a year on from being asked for them!).
It appears though, that the Alpine Gods have been looking down on us and have taken heed of our pleas. Five days ago it started snowing and it is still snowing as I write this. We are nestled under a downy blanket of silver and white crystals. I haven’t seen so much snow for years, if ever (such as my life has revolved around milder, rainier climes).
Yesterday was my daughter’s Class Winter (holiday, festive, Christmas – lets as appropriate) party. As ‘Class Mom’ I get the dubious privilege of organising said event, cajoling the other parents into donating time or crafts or food. So we had Stick the nose on the Reindeer, decorating gingerbread biscuits, making toilet roll reindeers and a Santa snakes and ladders game that I whipped up on the ‘puter. Kids were on a suitably high sugar rush by the end of it – job done.
“Eine briefmarke aus Samiclaus bitte.” One stamp for Santa Claus please.
That was me (yes I know, speaking German!) in the Post Office. Attempting to buy a stamp to post the children’s letters to Father Christmas. I say attempting because the lady just laughed at me, before spending a good ten minutes trying to decide how much to charge me as the address we had written was, of course, The North Pole. Surely we aren’t the only family in Switzerland that sends a letter to Santa in the hope that the kindly old gent would send a response (I mean Royal Mail always seemed to deliver a response).