Mo Farah vs Pigeons
Christmas is coming, the goose is getting fat… And so am I. I’ve put on so much weight, I’ll soon collapse into a black hole if I do nothing about it – so to combat this imminent danger I’ve started jogging – again. I do enjoy jogging, and puffing away, imagining I’m Mo Farah running the 100,00,0,00 metres at the Olympics. Until being overtaken by old ladies, snails and the like, pops my dream. And it was flippin’ freezing on Saturday when I went for my annual jog; my poor little fingers felt like they were being bitten and chewed up by angry dogs. Still, at least my five minutes of jogging will make up for the scones (2), meringues (1), pancakes (13434635) and biscuits (pushing infinity) that I’ve eaten in the last week or so.
And no doubt I’ll be stuffing myself with more throughout December and into January, with the absolutely valid excuse that it’s Christmas, and that this two month binge-fest only happens once a year.
Still, I do love Christmas, and I happily remember the good old days – even though we were very, very poor – when there were ten of us all huddled round a table together and my mum would carve up the biggest, juiciest pigeon you ever saw. I always got the head, which my mum said was “lucky”. But at least I didn’t get the feathers (very chewy).
These days, thankfully, we’re far better off. And now we can afford two pigeons.
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I should write another blog or two before Christmas. But if I can’t be bothered, then wishing you a very Merry Christmas, a reasonable Boxing Day, and a Happy New Year. :o)