Christmas Eve!

Seriously balmy and beautiful weather today, and the beach is calling, or at the very least the living room with the tree and various odds and sods to be wrapped. Instead, where am I? At my desk. We just got an email to ask everyone to get back to their desks as the bigwig is due for a visit. Having just been at lunch with him, I am fairly sure they know I'm in the building, but no, must park ass at desk.

So - Christmas Eve. I have my santa hat on my desk and the green tinsel with berrys attached in my bag; my sparkly heels to 'change' outfit before Katie's drinks thing this evening, and various gaily wrapped presents for K&C, and Hannah. And STILL I'm struggling to feel Christmassy. I know it'll be fine when I can actually go to the party and drink mulled wine and hang out with everyone, but still. So instead - some of my favourite Christmas memories......

1. The Hallelujiah chorus, as sung by the Filipino choir in Saudi when I was small. The church was in the school gym, and we sat on plastic folding chairs, and I used to have to try and catch Alexis' eye as the screeching got progressively higher, and more screechy, so we could giggle. They were truly appalling, but it is a great memory.

2. The cats eating the turkey - when we first bought the farm in Anglesey, and got George and Martha from the cat rescue place. Ged & Marilyn & Alice joined Nick, Mum and I, as both families were missing a member - Jack in Japan, and Daddy offshore somewhere. Madness reigned, with cooking and drinking and catching up prior to Midnight Mass, which was actually at about 8pm in Bangor Cathedral. We arrived late, and had to sit at the front in various pews. Mum poked Nick in the pew in front, asking, where are the cats? He replied quite proudly, well there was lots of food so I put them in the stables. Which was where Mum had cleverly stored the turkey, as it was too big for the fridge. So, 5 minutes after we'd arrived and disturbed everyone, all 6 of us stood up and trooped out of the Cathedral, giggling madly. It was the year of the one legged, half a breast missing turkey.

3. First Christmas in Dubai was also the first Christmas away from the parentals. Nick had a great villa, filled with lovely people, and we had the mother of all Christmas dinners, fully prepared, delivered, served and laid out by Jumeriah staff as we sat in the garden in pjs drinking sangria, opening presents, and spelling the word XMAS out of people as we sent Nick on to the roof to take an arial shot - I still have the picture somewhere.

I'm sure there are more, many, many more in fact, but I can't remember them now as I madly steam through final proposals and ppts before the 4 day weekend Christmas extravaganza!

My final Christmas memory has to be for Kim, who I always think about at this time of year. It's 12 years now since she died. Not forgotten though.