Tag Archives: festive

11 reasons it pays to be single on Valentine’s Day

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In honour of the upcoming Never-you-mind-my-relationship-status Day, here are my personal top eleven reasons on why Valentine’s Day is better for the singles.

  1. You get to have the house all to yourself. While your flatmates are out with their significant others you get to have a three hour long bubble bath with no one trying to break the door.
  2. You save money: no one to expect extravagant gifts means your budget might just get you through the month.
  3. No pre-date nerves of the “Ohmygoshwhattowearvariety”.
  4. Ladies: if you want to be lazy and NOT shave your legs, no one will know.
  5. No struggle to fit yet-another plushy to your already alarmingly large collection.
  6. If you want to have a junk food night in, washed down with a tub of Ben and Jerries, there’s bound to be someone on your friends list to join you.
  7. No embarrassingly sappy posts on Facebook/Twitter that you know you will regret in a few weeks’ time.
  8. You don’t have to sit through a movie you hate and pretend to like it for your date’s sake.
  9. Better yet! You don’t have to share your popcorn!
  10. You don’t lose sight of what’s important: specifically the upcoming Pancake Day.
  11. Massive chocolate clearance on every supermarket on the 15ht.

P.S. Kudos to the Nostalgia Critic for the Top 11 gimmick.

Good morning ladies and gentlemen…

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…this is the author speaking. Because winter break + visiting family + wonky internet + nearly-burnt-out brain I will be incomunicado until my uni semester starts. Thanks to all of you who liked my posts/ left comments/ followed my blog so far, you guys are AWESOME! I will return to regular posting schedule on the 12th of January with, hopefully, fresh material, better editing skills and reinforced snarkiness. Until then, I hope you have a lovely festive season, with laughs, gifts, good company and anything and everything else that makes a Good Time.

Peace out,

Lia.

Y is for “You said EIGHT, NOT NINE!”

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Oh the terror! Oh the stress!

Oh the indescribable tragedy!

There was a mishap in the invites,

Now the guests are early.

The food’s not done,

I am not dressed,

The place is still a mess!

 

I’m going to kill him,

He had ONE job,

Somehow he botched it.

Time to bring the bottles out,

Hope this will distract them.

Where did my other shoe go?

Is that the doorbell again?

 

Being a hostess is such fun.

Tiring and panicky, but fun.

It’s only once a year anyhow,

I can handle that!

 

Merry Christmas everyone!

X is for x-x-x

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When I was little my school used to drag us to church before Christmas (probably in the vain hope that we’d be enlightened and therefore more serious in class). The priest there had this annoying habit of preaching the exact same sermon Every. Freaking. Year. The subject? That X-mas is an entirely inappropriate word and we should use the full version when referring to Christmas. Never mind that most people I know only use X-mas as shorthand in shopping lists… I’ve been feeling a bit nostalgic lately (what with vising the parents and so), so I’m going to write not for X-mas but for the inevitable, obnoxious, seasonal requirement of gracefully receiving kisses.

 

I don’t mind physical attention. I’m as cuddly as a cat in fact. But having to trade hugs and kisses (even the social, kiss-the-air kind) with people I only see once or twice a year and maybe I’m not even that fond of, then Huston, we have a problem. I understand behind the action, I accept it as a social obligation, but it still makes me want to crawl away and hit the alcohol. Perhaps I’m exaggerating a little, but come on! You wouldn’t hug someone on first meeting! Seeing someone only in the context of a Christmas dinner is a bit like that. Seven kinds of awkward.

 

Maybe I’m being hyper-sensitive because I’m visiting the family for the holidays and after a semester of Skype talks it takes some getting used to. Never mind all-nighters in the library, this is emotionally exhausting. Part of me is glad to be out of England and not having to care about keeping together a house and a degree at the same time. Another part of me is half-way done with her escape plan. If you have a large family you know the feeling. It’s not what’s spoken that’s the problem. It’s the unspoken expectations…

 

….This turned pretty gloomy for a Christmas Eve post. I hope you have more fun than I do this festive season.

W is for Wishes

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A wish is a brief thought; delicate and ephemeral,

Like wisps of clouds against a burning sunset.

Beautiful fractals of frost on a window,

Turned rainbow crystals by the golden-grey dawn.

Here for a moment and then gone,

Trailing soundlessly the ether.

 

Uttered and then forgot; children of a moment,

None thinks that they come true.

And yet, under the blinking lights of a tree,

Surrounded by the sparks of fireworks,

Pressed up in hugs by familiar strangers,

We cannot help it. The words form,

They slip unheard, unseen, unfelt,

And perhaps, just once,

The magic of the days is enough

And we believe.

V is for Visitors

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Visitations are a seasonal requirement,

Inevitable like a runny nose before a cold.

Sounds like not much excitement,

In fact it is a most awkward tradition to uphold.

The crux of the matter is you can’t avoid it.

Or else you might just not get to

Realising that you missed your family a bit.

So don’t be a Grinch, they also missed you.