.comment-link {margin-left:.6em;}

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.

My Photo
Location: Bracknell Towers

Saturday, December 09, 2006

Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow

It should not be assumed from the title of this blog entry that Lady Bracknell has any intention of altering the curmudgeonly attitude to all things festive which she has been nurturing in her bosom for many decades.

Nevertheless, she recommends such of her readers who are in search of a light diversion which will remind them of childhood sessions with paper, scissors, Gloy glue and glitter to avail themselves of a snow day via the icon which the editor has skilfully (and with minimal swearing) appended to the sidebar to the left.

The existence of this "Holiday Flake-a-thon" was drawn to Lady Bracknell's attention by the ever-vigilant Becca.


Anonymous Anonymous said...

Thank goodness I'm not the only one for whom the festive season has long since lost all notions of festivity, and become merely a cynical marketing enterprise. Perhaps it's just the MS that makes me feel this way, but I suspect I would anyway!
At least the two cats are oblivious to the social whirl, but not to the Xmas turkey with trimmings...
If I could stretch that far, I'd give them a tidbit, but Manchester is far enough from Liverpool that I'll have to be content with wishing them, and Your Ladyship, the compliments of the season!
Angie xx

6:12 pm  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Dame Honoria lives in a remote location, and has managed to avoid the festive feeding frenzy to such an extent (by staying home and shopping internettly) that it came as something of a shock to discover the ravening hordes invading one's favourite farm shop this weekend.

Buster would like to enquire what is Turkey (this being his first Christmas in the Glossop household). So far we have managed to keep the small brown daemon out of the pantry and fridge by the use of child locks.

7:32 pm  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Aha. So you did send me a snowflake via this website!

Unfortunately the accompanying e-mail, purporting to be from you, was so uncharacteristic in its choice of words and even the sender's name, that I deleted it fearing it to be some sort of spam masquerading as someone known to me.

Now that I know its provenance I shall assume that this message was generated by the site's software rather than admit the possibility that your Ladyship has started using phrases such as "Hey" and "Check it out".

Anyway the thought is appreciated, albeit posthumously.


8:34 am  
Blogger Charlesdawson said...

I saw a wonderful item on the Southern BBC News site last night.

Apparently a man wearing a Santa costume was forced to leave a church carol service by the insistence of the Vicar.

Who said he was unsuitably dressed for the religious service.

I would urge Dame Honoria not to let Buster explore the possibilities of turkey.

Every year my own animals have a Christmas lunch special (prawns for the cats, cheese crumbs for the poultry) and every Boxing Day I have to explain to my sulking animals that this is a one-off, there's 364 days to go before another one, meanwhile back to the Felix and the mixed corn!

10:01 am  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

I must regretfully inform Charles Dawson that it is very difficult to prevent Buster from doing something once he has made up his mind. He's wrigglier than a basket of eels. One fears for the Christmas baubles.

5:09 pm  

Post a Comment

<< Home