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The collected opinions of an august and aristocratic personage who, despite her body having succumbed to the ravages of time, yet retains the keen intellect, mordant wit and utter want of tact for which she was so universally lauded in her younger days. Being of a generation unequal to the mysterious demands of the computing device, Lady Bracknell relies on the good offices of her Editor for assistance with the technological aspects of her journal.

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Location: Bracknell Towers

Sunday, December 10, 2006

In which Lady Bracknell is not calm

Regular readers will no doubt have gathered from the pages of this humble blog that Lady Bracknell's temperament would not, even by those generous few who otherwise speak kindly of her, be described as "laid back".

Amongst the many minor irritations which must be borne in life, one of the most irksome is the fact that, as soon as she has trimmed her fingernails (it is the eczema season, after all, and therefore rather unwise to provide oneself with weapons with which to tear one's skin), Lady Bracknell is immediately faced with a multitude of small tasks for which she is suddenly wholly unsuited. Knots must be unpicked; packing tape must be removed from the stout boxes in which the seasonal gifts she has ordered for her family and friends have been delivered; foodstuffs are all hermetically sealed under plastic film, the "tear here" tag of which is notably resistant to the grip obtainable using only the fingertips.

Is it that such tasks pass un-noted the rest of the time, or does life conspire to save them up for the express purpose of aggravating elderly aristocrats when they have already been rendered crotchety by the advent of television commercials assuring them that, if they order now, they can have their new carpet laid in time for Christmas?

Given that Lady Bracknell has yet to be persuaded of the need to purchase a new sofa in time for Christmas, it is unlikely that she will be swayed by any arguments the marketing men can put forward to the effect that her carpets are shamefully un-Christmassy. What next? A new patio heater in time for Christmas? New pillow cases? Is Lady Bracknell truly alone in her failure to find any logical connection between the celebration of the birth of Jesus and the decrepitude (or otherwise) of her home furnishings?

As so often happens at this time of year, Lady Bracknell's original question to her readers has degenerated into a complaint about modern day Christmas. As there are yet two weeks available to her ladyship to vent her spleen on this particular issue, it would perhaps be wise for her to close at this juncture, and to seek out some edifying task for which fingernails are not an absolute pre-requisite.

4 Comments:

Blogger melbamae said...

I say good on you for not cooperating with this annual ritual of artifical and nearly always feigned merriment!

It is my opinion that nearly everyone detests this time of year, though there are precious few who have the gumption to outwardly say so.

I join forces with our formidable and sensible Lady Bracknell in openly admitting I have no use for this season.

9:06 pm  
Blogger Mary said...

I have already done my Christmas Rant on my own blog, and a good thing too otherwise I would be filling the comments of everyone else's with Bah Humbug. I think I got nearly all of it out.

In the absence of fingernails may I recommend a Leatherman. I know several nail-biters (mostly in the IT industry) who simply couldn't cope without one.

9:47 am  
Blogger Wilf said...

I LOVE CHRISTMAS.
Wilf

9:51 pm  
Blogger Charlesdawson said...

An elderly friend of mine has inadvertently discovered a most efficient way to deal with recalcitrant wrappings and fastenings.

I gave her cat a small mouse filled with dried catnip from my garden. I did tell her that I had had it slung in a bag from my kitchen ceiling airer as Custard was most anxious to help me wrap it. I did warn her.....

Today she rang and told me that last night she had had no more sense than put the mouse in a pile of presents by the Christmas tree. Horace, who cannot be in the top IQ bracket for cats, had investigated and eviscerated every single parcel in his search for the elusive fragrance, and was discovered this morning stoned out of his mind among the fragments.

3:58 pm  

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