‘Twas the weekend before Christmas and all through the house, not a creature was stirring…erm except me. I had woken up stupidly early on a friend’s sofa bed and, being a ridiculous, needy attention whore, I decided to check my e-mail. Imagine my surprise when I opened the latest from a literary agent expecting a standard rejection, only to find a request for my full manuscript! Excited doesn’t even begin to cover it. But no one else was awake so I poked Mr. Pinkwood in the face until he WAS awake and told him. Then I tried to calm down (because let’s face it – we’ve got a LONG way to go yet…no use counting our proverbial chickens) but by this time I was wide awake.
So I lay in the snugly front room and enjoyed some quiet time just being warm and horizontal and CALMLY thinking about the sub-clause I would need to put in my contract when I sell the film rights to my book, which stipulates that I must have full control over the casting of the motion picture so I can make Jensen Ackles…what?! WHAT?!
And then I got a text from a friend a few miles up the road:
How’s the snow looking with you? It’s snowing here 😦
A seemingly harmless little message which I rather offhandedly replied to:
Nothing here yet!
Not only was my response blasé, it was also unresearched and factually incorrect. You see, what I couldn’t be bothered to rouse myself from my cosy, warm daydream to ascertain was that we’d actually had about a foot of snow since I had gone to sleep!
Now, usually I’m all for being snowed in when I’m toasty and in bed. I like to take full advantage of the UK’s inability to cope with a bit of the white stuff when it means I can stay on my sofa rather than going to work. But this particular pre-Chrimbo weekend was not of the usual ilk. It was a WEDDING day. The wedding of two of my oldest friends who will be moving to the other side of the world come January.
As the rest of the household woke up, it soon became apparent that we were actually pretty boned. First we had no cancel the hairdresser (no biggy – we can do our own hair). Then our lift fell through due to the state of the roads. Our return cab from the reception started looking shaky. So finally, with an emergency quartered scotch egg stashed about us and some warm clothes on, we walked gingerly to the train station, preparing for an epic 3-change journey (it takes 2 hours on a good day) to the ceremony. But after buying our tickets and waiting for a train which seemed less and less likely to show up, we got a phone call from a friend further down the line, saying all trains going anywhere vaguely near where we wanted to be had been cancelled!
The weekend had started well but it was rapidly going the way of an inexperienced skier on a black run – downhill FAST!
(LOL – I’ve never been skiing – did that even make sense?)
So, with heavy hearts*, we called the groom and went home to take off our finery and watch Scrooged** 😦
Here’s what you would’ve won:
The next day was Sunday, and Mr. Pinkwood and I were scheduled to have early Christmas with my family due to the fact we will be in Manchester for actual Christmas. Mum had bought not one but TWO turkeys. Everyone in my actual family was sick or incapacitated due to SNOWMAGEDDON. Things were looking a bit wobbly again, but then a thought hit. What would be more perfect at Christmas than spending it with people we actually like rallying the local troops (i.e. my friends) to eat all this excess food – Hollywood style?! Mum was sold: Trains, Planes and Automobiles is one of her all time favourite movies. She suggested a snowball fight and a wintry dog walk. So that’s what we did. There were 9 of us in the end – which everyone knows is the number of a good fellowship. The roads had been gritted enough that we could actually get there, so up we bowled and the champagne was duly opened.
Now it may have been the fizz. It may have been cabin fever. It may have been repressed upset from missing the wedding. I don’t know. But at some point it was suggested that we could build a great big cock out of snow. Oh, how we laughed. Imagine the neighbours’ faces! One of my brothers would be in charge of ball foundation. I would oversee bellend sculpting. Everyone else would take shaft duty. We snickered and guffawed, and then we ate lunch.
After eating, we dressed warmly, brewed some gluhwein, put the dog on a lead and went outside for Christmassy fun. But the snowpenis idea refused to die. I guess it was crowd mentality. If there is one thing you do not do, it is make a flippant remark to my friends and family. Especially not if they are all a bit tanked and high on roast potatoes. And so this happened:
It could be a snowman if you squint…
Yes, MORE alcohol. That will help…
Possibly the point of no return:
Ben and my brothers thinking about helmet construction:
Tom and Mr. Pinkwood define those balls:
It’s almost straining! Michaelangelo would be proud :’)
Now everybody say “COCK!”
If that wasn’t bad enough, we went back later and transformed it into some kind of illuminated Winter Solstice totem (and added twig pubes :/)
SO, the next day, in a completely appropriate fit of embarrassment, Mum went out and pushed Snowmanhood over (leaving the balls as a ‘fuck you’ to over-zealous residence association members (lol) everywhere). But when she returned from a walk later in the day…a GENUINE CHRISTMAS MIRACLE had occurred.
SNOWPEEN WAS RES-ERECTED!
Well, it’s more of a semi – but it restored my faith in the magic of Christmas anyhow 🙂
So, dear readers, I bid you farewell for this year having successfully lowered the tone of 2010. I hope you all have a FABULOUS holiday, and I’ll see you on the other side where I shall probably be making a right pig’s ear of 2011!
*I am exploiting this misfortune for a stupid blog post but I am GENUINELY gutted about missing the wedding and will be making it up to the bride & groom BIG TIME.
**Mr. Pinkwood had NEVER SEEN Scrooged before!! WTactualF is up with that?!