Well, what can I say. It’s been another year hasn’t it, undeniably, and as such Christmas has nearly arrived towards the end. 2012 has been an averagely poor year for us, bringing only a few highlights.
Of course the big story of our ‘year’ came in July courtesy of Grenada’s second year at University results, for which he achieved a grade of 56.8% – which actually represents a much better achievement than it sounds like it does, given the squalid living conditions for which his landlord refuses to take responsibility. Also, of course, we were also delighted by Amy-Brenda’s end of Year9 contemporary/Latin dance interpretation of Dickens’ Edwin Drood, which she and three-friends not only single-handedly wrote, choreographed and starred in, but also got rave reviews for in the parish magazine.
As for us olds, our year has been somewhat dogged by health. For me, the light-relief of February’s ‘passed with flying colours’ general check-up having been tempered by March’s childhood-Polio diagnosis. Still, the maddeningly small, orange tablettas non-regulariados I’ve been taking from Brazil seem to have made a real difference and I’m now able to be back fully in the shed at weekends. For Angela, 2012 is probably best forgotten what with turning 44 and her tetraphobia (fear of the number four) being as you know worse than ever.
Signalling, as it did, the passing of Angela’s mum Kathy May, May was hard. We all miss her, and prefer to think less of how she was toward the end and more about the good times.
Moreover, we were as a family of course particularly saddened by this year’s deaths of astronaut Neil Armstrong, film director Tony Scott, the several recent children in Newtown, Connecticut and former Liverpool defender Gary Ablett. As I’m sure were you all. RIP.
Nevertheless, those of you who’ve been asking will be pleased to hear that the saga of the internet has finally rectified itself in more or less our favour. Virgin Media remain insistent that the service was ‘perfectly within acceptable realms of the service offered’ and that routers do not and never have burned cats, and are also still refusing to withdraw the public decency claim against my brother-in-law and lawyer-at-law David, but a man did recently come out to refit a new box and the speed now seems to have settled down at only slightly less than Steven at number 11 usually gets, for a much more palatable £19.40/month.
I am personally disappointed not to be able to announce an end to my on-going and sour feud with our local Liberal Democrat member of parliament Adrian Dobless over the frequency and quality of waste removal, nor my spat with our neighbour to the east, Neville, over his unsightly fencing and dog. Perhaps 2013 will prove itself more diplomatic.
Likewise we are all sad not to be able to welcome our Georgian friend Brijan (pronounced like the English) for Christmas again this year as a result of him not having been able to get a visa.
Sarah’s late-October ‘announcement’ about a Spring wedding with her current Hindu boyfriend is still very much in discussion, but needless to say we are proud of everything she has achieved in her job at Littlewoods (department store, NOT bookmaker).
Well, given that I can hear that a courier has apparently come to the door with a parcel for a Michael Limble, sorry Lambert (I misheard Angela), who obviously does not live here, I should go and sort that out. As such, little now remains other than to wish you all a very MERRY CHRISTMAS from all of us and send our very best for 2013 (how odd it feels writing that?!).