I had to wait in for a Stilton. All day. Long story. My annual contribution to Christmas at my brother’s house is a proper whole baby Stilton from Colston Bassett, the home of Stilton. Usually I get it delivered to their house whether or not I am going but they are away on a pre-Xmas cruise in the Caribbean returning on 23rd. Allowing for jetlag, that would have meant delivery on 24th at theirs so I thought “probably better to get it delivered to me this year” and today was the day.
So I got up early in case the delivery man surprised me in my nightie, not a good look, especially since I had aromatherapy yesterday and had gone to bed with oil in my hair and this morning it was sticking out in all directions a la Edward Scissorhands. And the doorbell rang at 09.30 and I thought “hooray, the cheese has arrived, I am liberated” but no! It was a box containing champagne and chocolates from the inspirational leader of Cartel, Mr Carl Wright. Excellent timing from him since his company had just this morning also paid my whopping pre-Xmas commission bacs. I was quite pleased with them already, now I was doubly pleased, so I emailed him to say thankyou and got a response with a kiss on the bottom. Nice. He’s had a soft spot for me since I gave him the answer to a question about his ROI on a Master Agent’s button which costs him less than a pound to buy but which he sells for £5,000 plus VAT! And that’s just grand, because I have a soft spot for him too. He calls me Million Pound Judith, or some such, which can’t be bad. So far, the day is shaping up nicely.
What do you do when you have to wait in all day? I thought I would start with a bacon and egg sarnie for my rather late mid-morning breakfast cum lunch, but I burned the bacon, distracted by a phone call, can’t even remember who is was now. Ah yes, one of my property spiv cohorts wanting a nice little cross-pollination catch-up before his own Xmas Caribbean cruise. So, egg sandwich it was then. Next, I helped a guy make a decision about how to get involved with The Money Gym as we are in our annual pre-January sign-up frenzy for our Gold clients clamouring to grab their time-sensitive bonuses and/or their 2008 prices.
Then the doorbell rang again and I thought “hooray, the cheese has arrived, I am liberated” but no! It was a bunch of flowers, a dozen pink roses, with a message signed “Peter” but which one? I took a stab in the dark and emailed the most abundant Peter I know and wasn’t surprised to discover it was indeed the right Peter, Peter Stanley, wanting to acknowledge another great year. Bless him, we had a very brief chat on the phone. Then I had a lovely talk with Ian in South Wales about our respective teetotal Christmasses and our favourite personal development gurus and so on, by which time it was early afternoon.
One of the things (still) on my Xmas holiday To Do List said, ominously “Do filing, definitively”. What, you may wonder, does it mean to do your filing definitively? Well it means not just doing those easy bits on the top with handy accessible files; it means going all the way to the bottom of the deep, deep basket which I stole from Westminster when I lived there. It’s black plastic, for recycling something, I know not what, and it has the Westminster City Council crest on the side in gold, and it’s very, very posh and quite suitable. There have been some documents in there which haven’t been filed all year. Time to finish the lot which I did while watching the Royal Variety Performance on BBC iPlayer, shredding* noisily during the dull bits, like The Shadows…dear God. I’m gazing lovingly and in awe at my efficiency at the black plastic bottom of the empty filing basket and making vague unspoken promises to myself to do the filing every day in 2009. Yeah, right.
*[I am quite in love with my shredder actually. It’s a heavy duty model and it munches everything, and drowned out the noise of the people I didnt like on the show!]
Still waiting, I noticed someone had slipped something through my letterbox which is odd, ‘cos you can’t reach my letterbox unless you have a key to my side gate and the only people who have that are Nick, the rock ‘n roll gardener, and Beverley my brilliant cleaner. It was Nick who had photographed his arse and put it on the front of his Xmas card, rather oddly but deeply rock ‘n roll obviously, and provided me with a CD which he had recorded by someone I have never heard of. Nick says, in his accompanying note, that he’s sure I will get the vibe. Hey ho. Hey ho, ho, ho, in fact.
I tell you, the abundance has rolled and rolled here all day and you can tell I’m rather crazed with it, can’t you? And like all abundance, all the better for being completely unexpected. And for these gifts, I am very very grateful and surprised and touched. I don’t get many Xmas presents actually since my little family is very small. And these are all my very favourite gifts, consumables or uploadables, since I am on a clutter-clearing jag right now.
And what of the cheese? Yes, it finally arrived and I was in the end duly liberated to go out of the house but by then it was after dark and far too late to go out to the Post Office and Starbucks as I promised Ian, so that will have to wait until tomorrow. The cheese is ponging nicely on the window ledge, waiting for the Caribbean travellers to return. Which is good, as at least there will be some left by the time I see them on Xmas Day which isn’t always the case! I have taken this Stilton over the last two decades to Tokyo, New York, Hong Kong and beyond. This year? Cobham, Surrey. Tres chic, not.
To all the delivery men, Knights of the Road, who presumably were working their bottoms off today, the last Friday before Xmas, thank you. Drive safely, White Van Man. Needless to say a couple of parcels I am actually expecting have yet to arrive. ‘Twas ever thus, but I’m not going to get myself in a twitch about it, it matters not. All’s right in my world this evening; COB, cheese on board.