There has been a development pertaining to Christmas in this household, over which I don't know whether to rejoice or despair.
My partner has just informed me that we will be spending Christmas Day in Hereford, at the kind invitation of the parents of my partner's sister-in-law, Nicky. (Nicky is in pup, as you may recall, and is due to have her whelping induced in hospital tomorrow - a new baby brother or sister for Ewan (lovable tot, not brainless mutt).). This means that my Chrimble festivities this year will be spent alongside my wife, Isolde - a perky little Springer Spaniel of immense beauty and uncertain temper. I may be in trouble.
What if she finds out about my girlfriend Candy? What if Candy finds out about the new apple of my eye, Fizzy? What if Candy finds out about Isolde? What if Isolde finds out about Candy finding out about Fizzy? What will become of me?
My partner saw me muttering distractedly to myself, but she seems to show scant sympathy for my plight. All she had to say by way of comfort was:
"If you are finding yourself in hot water now, Jasper, it would do you good to remember who turned on the tap in the first place."
Eh? Why is the silly girl talking in riddles? I do NOT turn on taps - I have people to do that for me. I DO know what she means, of course, but it isn't MY fault. How can I be the one to blame? Just because the ladies love me. It simply isn't fair.
I thought about trying to die before Christmas, but I really haven't finished being alive yet. It's too much fun. And it takes a long time to drive to Hereford from where I live - I don't think they pick up our wee-mails up there. No - settle, Jasper, settle. I think it might be alright. If I can just keep quiet and not let anything stupid slip out, all might be well. Yes: that shall be my plan. Mute, submissive devotion to my dearest darling wife. Hmmm... I wonder if I can steal some of her turkey dinner when she's not looking....?
A brief entry tonight, alas. My partner is just inviting me to continue my musings on Christmas plans in another room. Apparently my bottom-breath is "unacceptable".