Cheery?! (*hic) And a story of bear fuelled insanity ...

(Apology in advance: I discuss alcohol in a flippant manner in this post. If you have issues with alcohol then please take care over the holiday and don't, on any account, do as I do.)

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Imagine how frustrating it is. I wait for hours with nothing happening and then I get just 2 minutes of pleasure. No folks, I'm not talking about that. I'm talking about the bloody internet connection. Lack of, thereof. Obviously it is not going to be fixed before Christmas. Or even this year at the rate they're going. Still, my CPN told me about a pub that is open on Christmas day afternoon where they have wi-fi. That would give a new and different focus to the day, trying to get out to get some connection.

Usually Christmas day for me is alcohol - possibly stirred into the porridge for breakfast, Christmas pudding with rum poured over (AKA drowned in. Not worth eating otherwise), Queen's speech (need to be drunk to "appreciate" that anyway. It's usually watching from behind a cushion type of thing given the extreme cringe factor rating. I don't think I've ever managed to get through a whole one yet) , and then sitting in front of TV all day in various stages of inebriation.

This isn't as bad as it sounds (though actually it sounds quite enjoyable if you like a tipple). I'm not drinking to dull the pain - although obviously it helps in that sense too. I'm drinking because it is one of the few days in the year that I mark with drink - the others being Boxing day and New Years Eve and day. And that's it. The rest of my alcohol intake is purely medicinal (hic). Did I mention that I've been ill now for 3 whole weeks?

Given the amount of alcohol already existing in my Christmas day, would it be that different to spend it in the pub anyway? But I have to tell you that I never drink out of the house. This is because I have such a low tolerance for alcohol. One drink and I'm anybodys barely able to stand up. Which usually suits me just fine on Christmas day because the amount of time I spend standing up is minimal. However, if I'm going to go to the pub, I will, ironically enough, have to hold off the alcohol until after I get back. Just to make sure that I do get back. I will also, of course, have to tackle my agoraphobia on Christmas day ... Maybe I'll just wait it out in hope of a few moments of pleasure at home?

Given that this is Christmas Eve I'll spare you the story of my Monday Monumental Fail. But don't worry, I'll be straight back here with it after the holiday. You're not escaping that easily. In the meantime, I'll regale you with the story of the Bear's Christmas Present Meltdown.

Every night this week I have been trying to sleep against the backdrop of a grinding grating noise (OK I just had to get a bit of my own misery in there) from some roadworks in the vicinity - something to do with the cable not working? Who knows, Virgin will tell us nothing. Anyway, my brain so successfully tuned out of this noise that I didn't hear 2 text messages sent in the night from the Bear's girlfriend. The first told how he had bought her a present which turned out to be faulty and had lost the receipt. He had spent a long time searching for it to no avail and was having a panic attack, and could I please call when I woke up. My heart sank when I read this about 5 hours after it was sent. I could picture the scene so clearly. The ranting, the raving, the panic, the screaming, the crying ... she must have been pretty desperate to text for my help in the middle of the night. The Bear only uses cash, so no receipt = no refund. I found out later that this was the only present he had bought her, so if he didn't get it sorted out she would have no present at all.

Anyway, it was with trepidation that I moved on to the second message sent about an hour after the first. After hours of turning the flat upside down, he had found the receipt just outside the front door. Relief! But then she wrote "Now he has gone nuts". Pretty serious I thought, if he has completely gone in the head area. You can just imagine how that can happen after several hours of extreme stress and panic. What would be left after such exertion would be a shaking trembling wreck. I was unnerved. And then she ended the message with a cheery "The bears say hi" .... WTF???!?!?!?!? And that is the bit I can't get over. Has she lost it as well, I thought?

I should explain. "The bears" refers to the large collection of teddy bears owned by the Bear. He and I used to spend many happy hours discussing what the *bears* were thinking or saying. And still do in fact. For example, I can tell you that the bears are STILL cut up over the closure of Woolworths. They used to love nipping out while the Bear wasn't looking and getting a big bag of pic'n'mix to share amongst themselves. His girlfriend however, didn't get in on this game for a long time. Lack of imagination? Slow on the uptake? Not into such nonsense familiar with ursine thought patterns? I can't say as I don't know her that well. Anyway at some point she started joining in the bear fuelled frippery.

But then to end a text telling how the Bear has suffered a mental meltdown with a cheery missive from the bears? I mean, as though they would have been able to sit through such a drama without being terribly affected themselves. Their poor little nerves must be frazzled. Saying "hi"? They're screaming their bloody heads off woman! Poor old bears.

So I seriously doubt her sanity.

And you, dear reader, are by this stage seriously doubting the sanity of everyone at this end.

Anyway, after the Bear had taken a bucketload of various meds which produced no positive result at all, and had done plenty of crying, he and she went to Argos yesterday afternoon and got a refund. They then went round the shops where he proceeded to buy her quite a few presents which she chose and was delighted with. And by the evening everyone was happy again. Don't you just love a happy ending?

The *bears*, however, say it will be quite some time before they recover from this debacle. I'll have to nip round later and give them each a drop of whisky. Purely for medicinal purposes, you understand.

MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE!

　

BTW Am I the only person who thought Jack's post entitled "Ways losing weight is like writing a letter to Santa" should have been called "Ways losing weight is like having sex"? Some of those lines I distinctly remember having said to the Bear. Check it out here.