CARDS on the table
I don’t do cards, even at Christmas. I’ve explained this throughout the year to Ervin, who runs the all-sorts shop where I buy Mum’s scratch cards. He just waves to the card rack at the back of the shop and says something like, ‘Valentine’s cards are on special offer this week.’
‘Hardly surprising,’ I’ll eye-roll. ‘As it’s July!’
‘Folk often pop in and buy their Christmas cards in summer,’ he’ll retort. ’You’ve got to think ahead.’
Well, now it is coming up to Christmas, and I’m still swerving his selection of seasonal cards.
In , Im gone on glittery bunting he’s strung up everywhere. I have a tasteful poinsettia back at my flat, and that’s it. Less is more, in my opinion.
The other subject touchy is my love life
I’ve only gone into Ervin’s shop this week to buy the scratch cards for my weekly visit to Mum. This visit is also to discuss festive arrangements – I’m hoping she’ll come to me this year, even if her place is
