It's not what you do, it's the way you do it
A confession or two, garlic breath and an old fashioned salad tea.
The twelfth day of Christmas has been and gone. The decorations have been stashed away for another year and the lounge is looking bare.
To be honest I'm not really into trimming up so apart from the Christmas cards and the paper tree that was dangling from the window frame not much has changed. It's not that I'm a misery but I try to be out more than in so what's the point, besides it gives any seasonal visitors the chance to tut, raise their eyebrows and look to the heavens, which seems to me quite appropriate for the season.
Speaking of going out, shortly after the new year I did meet up one evening for a meal with a couple of great friends from the latter years of the employed phase of my life. Fantastic company, terrible meal but to be honest I was in the clutches of flu, the like of which only attacks the male so I can't be too judgemental. During the course of the evening pesto was mentioned. I don't think it developed into a conversation but it did make me reflect that I had been quite pesto'd over the holidays – stop that tutting and eyebrow thing, it's not a euphemism, although, in truth, the end of a couple of evenings are somewhat 'misty'!
