Carolling, Wii and Dry Camel Pussy

So the holidays are over.  Returning after touting the family round relatives in Methlick in the North East of Scotland for Christmas and Kemsley daaahn Saaath for New Year (beaucoup driving but worth it not to have to char any turkey/beef/potatoes/sprouts myself), the relentless drudgery of housework and f*cking cooking is once again mine to savour.  So far this year I’ve had several new-to-my-repertoire dishes pooh-pooh’ed by the troops, including the latest tuna pasta bake, Jamie Oliver’s half hour (ha!) curry and an interesting tomato, chicken and spinach casserole (well, I bloody liked it).  It’s only 14th Jan and I’m ready to hang up my culinary utensils in a poots*. Which is handy as they do actually hang on the ubiquitous IKEA hook system, making this protest the tidiest thing I’ve achieved so far in 2011.

Yes, it’s a shock to the old system being back home. The sheer relaxation of landing on someone else’s doorstep and abandoning my children to the coos of fourteen lovely relatives who found their foibles delightful rather than irksome (tip: keep the visits short), was bliss.  And the cheesiness of the Christmas activities – a sledging competition (see pic), Who Am I?**, the Pictures Game***, the Drawing Game**** and even  Christmas Carols sung to my two-fingered piano playing – made it the most bizzarely soft-focus, Hallmarky festive season I’ve ever experienced.

“I didn’t think this happened in real life” remarked my young cousin in bemusement, as I hammered out ‘In the Bleak Mid-Winter’ on my aunt’s piano for the assembled, be-paper-hatted troops to sing along to, albeit with varying degrees of enthusiasm.

Neither did I – at least not beyond Weatherfield circa 1962.

New Year involved more technologically advanced amusement, largely centered around Just Dance 2 on the Wii, which is strangely addictive until you see yourself filmed on the new Christmas iPod, looking like the worst kind of reject from Britain’s Got Talent, displaying an over-exuberant enthusiasm inversely proportionate to your rhythmic ability (in a kind of waking RMD).   Taking a demo copy home to play with with my equally lush friend was a mistake – I’m still walking with a slight limp and nursing a mystery bruise on my right foot. I’m not sure if she stood on the poor appendage, or if I failed to follow basic Wii safety instructions and dropped the doo-dad on it when playing strapless (oo-er missus).  Either way it bloody hurt the next morning and I have since retreated to the relative safety of the couch and curtailed my gaming to sitting on my arse hurling Angry Birds at green pigs.

All-in-all, this year’s holiday was total Cheesarama and it was brilliant.  I enjoyed my children immensely, largely because at any given time of the day I was happily unaware of their location.  And I thoroughly revelled in the  Christmas-cardiness of all this snow we’ve been having, despite the feeling that my feet have been grafted onto the same slightly pungent fur boots for the past three months.   But it’s back to the routine now.  Life will be enhanced by some new toys both for the young and old in the family, but we’re  still counting the sleeps till half term…

Oh.  And we think Boy might have worms.

Happy New Year!

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* an Orcadian ‘huff‘  [see Sat 19th 2002 entry].
But also, apparently, an Armenian vagina!  As in ‘Choratsats ookhti poots’ (Dry Camel Pussy).   There is a brilliantly unpleasant list of Armenian swear words here, of which that’s by far the best, with Empty Dick (Barab Gelir) a close 2nd.

** Played with my over-educated elders, this proved to be an appropriately titled game. Even once some weary soul had guessed the ‘famous’ personage, Husband No.1 and I would exchange glances to indicate neither of us were any the wiser even when furnished with a name. I mean, who’s seriously going to guess Mahmoud Ahmadinejad as the answer in a Christmas party game?  Well, someone did I suppose, but it sure wasn’t me…

*** Pictures.  Of People.  Guess who they are?  Surprisingly difficult.  I’ve never heard of Graeme Swan.

**** Pictionary for serious party-goers. Teams and different rooms and all, plus clues like ‘The International Monetary Fund’.  I ask you. Chuh!