Sinister: not even christmas, especially not that

[Archel1978 at xxx.com]

bizarre festive goings-on in the playforth household.

at some point on xmas eve we receive a red flood warning via the fax, and 
spend the rest of the night watching the sea engulfing the beach, the road 
and a dog litter bin, ending up ominously lapping at our garden wall.  which 
is nice.

xmas morning: we go out to inspect the damage. large parts of the beach have 
been redistributed across the town.

meanwhile, it seems that another name is to be added to our rodent casualty 
list, as spike the hamster is inert in his cage.  my sister is upset at this 
poignant death on christmas morning, especially as she realises she has to 
dispose of the body.  but, wait!  as mother is putting his cold furry form 
into a box, he begins to move!  my sister says this has happened before and 
he is obviously a very resilient hamster, but i'm convinced that this is 
zombie spike.  the night of the living dead hamster.  either that or he's a 
ghost come to wreak revenge on behalf of all his rodent kin who perished at 
our hapless hands in the past.  whichever, i'm going nowhere near him until 
he is pronounced properly dead by a vet.  (almost as scary as the hamster 
dance song.  almost.)

we get over the trauma by watching my new gregory's girl video.  i eat 
chocolate euros and am happy.  in the evening a minor row erupts because my 
sister doesn't think that 'ad' is a valid scrabble word, but several jd and 
cokes later and she can't even add up how much 'ad' would score, so the 
crisis passes.  plus we are listening to tigermilk, my new *legal* copy, 
which is pronounced by the older generation to be quite pleasant, and 
generally creates an atmosphere of peace and good will.  unfortunately 
short-lived, as my blissful gene kelly fix is ruined by philistine sister 
declaring that 'singing in the rain' is, and i quote, 'the most boring film 
in the world, there's no story, look, they've just been dancing around like 
twats for 20 minutes'.

then we all get far too drunk and cry in front of 'the royle family'.  more 
flood warnings.  thunder.  lightning.  i begin to fear divine retribution for 
neglecting all those wee animals over the years, never mind the ghost of 
christmas pets in the shape of zombie spkie downstairs.

fall asleep in front of 'the italian job'.

and that's it for another year... now i enter the dark night of the soul 
between xmas and new year, trying to watch everything i taped, impatient to 
get out of flooded sussex and up to glasgow which has an even more special 
appeal now than it did when it was just the home of belle and sebby... 
<wistful sigh>

so, fingers crossed that sinister will survive into the year 2000.  thank you 
honey.  thank you everyone.  happy new year.  and be nice to your hamster, 
you just never know when it's going to turn on you...

extra helpings of maudlin love, archel xxxxxxxxxxx

ps: the official deadline for submissions to the first edition of 'buzzwords' 
(due to appear on a website near you at the end of january) is FRIDAY JANUARY 
14TH.  probably.

********
Rachel Playforth
archel at iname.com
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