Still alive

Just in case anyone reading this blog was wondering, I am still alive and capable of typing.

Having been cruelly abandoned by a husband swanning off to the November Ops meeting, I find myself in the unusual position of having some time to blog, having already finished preparing the accounts for Sanctus 1 for last year, done a practice exam, bought some stocking fillers and some booze for me (There's a thought - excuse me for two minutes while I go and pour myself a glass.....................................................................sorry, that took longer than I was expecting, awkward shrink-wrapping over the cork) as well as some proper gifts, banked some cheques, picked up a parcel from the sorting office and earned a quid for participating in a market research survey. (Now then, you're conducting market research about chocolate bars, and you're paying people in money not chocolate. What's the thinking there?)

There's a few things I still haven't achieved today, but then I hadn't planned for Husband to detail me to exploring the European Christmas Markets in Manchester in search of stocking fillers. I have duly trudged through all the god-awfully twee clay cherubs and santas, foodstuffs, contenders for the title of most useless piece of clutter you could give to someone you really hated, and jewellery stalls staffed by the most miserable oriental women. Is it me or are they actually trafficked here in the same container as the merchandise and beaten if they don't sell enough tat?

I do like the Christmas markets for the atmosphere, the mulled wine and the opportunity to restock the larder with raclette cheese and salami, but I do also find they're really crowded, and better for buying Christmas decorations and burgers for yourself than gifts for other people.

Big points to: the guy with the stall between M&S and Burberry who's selling wooden things and scented-candles-in-wineglasses, the hand cream and other luxuriously smelly things merchant on the steps of the Town Hall, and the rather charming Frenchman tirelessly demonstrating the magic of telescopic fruit bowls in the middle of Albert Square.


Less points to: the choir of young people who turned up in St Ann's Square and sang beautiful a cappella arrangements of popular songs. Lovely to listen to, but they had dumped all their bags on the top step of the war memorial, on top of a wreath which had been laid there. There were other steps available.