* the bad bits, anyway, just New Year to fear now
I couldn't be bothered to go to Sainsburys yesterday. I needed to get food in, general stuff, stuff to eat, especially considering I have an extended period at home...eat is good. Plus I'm cooking a five course meal tomorrow, only because Jimmy has the evening off work, not for any other reason (!).
I had a nice trip to Sainsburys preceded by an even nicer trip to Oddbins, where David asked what I wanted. I shrugged in a dunno sort of way and said 'maybe two reds and a white' and he said that he had a box specially made up for me. So that was cool. I intend to blog a blow-by-blow account of Christmas, so I shall report back on the wines tomorrow.
Timing the supermarket run is always a crapshoot at this time of year. Not that I actually know what a crapshoot is. Even though I don't 'do' Christmas, a supermarket trip is still necessary, because there is never an excuse needed for fine dining chez Gert Cottage. I got my fruit and vegetable yesterday from our local greengrocers - who as regular readers will know are Jimmy's brother and sister-in-law.
I walked apprehensively into Sainsburys, dreading a dearth of trollies and long queues to check out, but there were loads of trollies and few queues. My first stop was the fish counter, where I only had to wait while one person was being served. At the Deli there was no one, except me. I chatted with the chap serving, saying how it's quiet. He said they hadn't stopped since opening, although it was beginning to lull. I got everything I set out to get, except that I didn't get a box of 'Biscuits for cheese' (not that I do Christmas, you understand). I do feel a fraud buying mince pies, Christmas pudding and Christmas cake, because when I was a teenager, I was perfectly capable of making all of these - and did, even if not necessarily all three at any given Christmas (turn and turn about with siblings). but when you're catering for two people, a whole Christmas cake is an awful lot of effort to go to. I only had to queue behind one person at the checkout. I was pleased to she was getting ready for Christmas - she had her rollers on underneath her hairnet. I then had a nice chat with the woman on the checkout.
I was particularly proud that I managed to get all this back home on the bus (yes, including three bottles of wine). Admittedly, I had planned well. Later this afternoon I just popped round the corner to buy bread, milk and some beer, plus biscuits for cheese, which I would have had to get irrespective of what time of year it was. And I said thank you to the little boy who stood back to let me on first.
In between times, I went for a ride on Tooting Common. What with one thing and another I have done almost no exercise this month. I went swimming last Thursday, the first time in over a week. And now the swimming baths are closed for two weeks. Which is a pain - I get all that time off work and can't even go for a swim. It's also badly timed for the school holidays.
So it's cycling or nothing.
I thought that the Common would be all but deserted. Wrong! I've seen quieter parks on sunny summer Sundays. Obviously, the dog walkers will always be there. Dogs don't know it's Christmas. And there will always be the odd jogger, the occasional cyclist, either like me, or using the Common as a means from A to B. I didn't expect there to be so many people out strolling or playing. No organised football matches but a couple of disorganised ones. The tennis courts were full. The playgrounds were also full, and there were numerous family groups out for a walk either with or without children. I did notice that the overwhelming vast majority of small children were accompanied either by Dad or by grandparents, which is a bit unusual, although very understandable. And there were more than usual adults-plus-parents groups.
Always interesting watching people. One Dad was out with two toddlers, on little bikes, on the narrow path that goes round the pond. One of the small kids was in my way, so I slowed down. I then decided to see what would happen if I rang my bell. Nothing. Not a problem, we were approaching a wider part of the path. Then Dad said "Out of the way, B." And I was like, no problem, I'm in no hurry.
But then later I was on a double path. It is clearly painted as being for pedestrians on one side and cyclists on the other. That didn't seem to bother one three-generational all male group, who felt it was their right to string out across the path. This isn't about me being on a bike, this is merely about me coming in the opposite direction; I would have thought that if your party is strung out across the entirety of a path, irrespective of how it is marked, and there is someone coming in the opposite direction, it is incumbent on the party to move to let them by. So I rang my bell, and the child, about seven, threw a rubber toy at me. My instinctive reaction was to flinch and duck, and Dad was embarrassed and fulsome in his apology. Which was fine. But then Grandad announced "We also have machine guns..." I suppose this was his attempt at humour but I did feel it was a bit misplaced. I accelerated at speed muttering "And I've got an effing hot temper and a foul tongue". I don't think they would have heard me, but I'm not sure I would have cared if they had.
And then further along a similar divided bi-function path I saw a dog-walking woman on the cycle part. she looked as if she might have been wanting to overtake a three-generation family group on the pedestrian bit, but she was walking more slowly than them. I rang my bell in good time; she had plenty of time to move. I'm not saying that I rode at her fast but I think my slipstream sent her reeling. She gave me one of those glares typical of the sort of snotty dogwalker who thinks she owns the Common.
It was dusk, and although not yet dark, most vehicles had their lights on. I then discovered that the battery has gone in my back light, which is strange because I've only used it once. Not a good idea to ride on the road, so I rode on the pavement instead - slowing down and giving way to three pedestrians I passed. I dismounted and used the green man to cross the Thornton Avenue/Thornton Road/Emmanuel** Road/New Park Road junction. I was very nearly hit by a car turning left out of New Park Road. I was startled. It wasn't as if they had taken a liberty jumping a red. They had actually started off from stationary. I might be prepared to be charitable and assume they were foreigners who think that you can turn left on a red (but not too charitable - when driving abroad you should know the local rules of the road). But then I noticed that not one of them looked old enough to drive. It will end in tears. Theirs I hope, not someone else's.
I am now listening to Messiah. Liturgically incorrect, but who needs an excuse to listen to Messiah. Next is bath-time, then Carols from Kings. It isn't Christmas without Carols from Kings, even though I usually end up getitng annoyed with the insipid passionless delivery of the carols and the posh camp high church reading of the lessons.
Incidentally, did anybody see that programme about 10 Best Sacred Christmas Classics. It was on BBC4 and will be repeated again. It is worth seeing, for a gorgeous mix of Handel, Bach, Britten and churchy carols, and some fascinating insights and stories. Unfortunately, it also included Katherine Jenkins who had absolutely nothing to say. Unlike other celebs wheeled out, especially Billy Bragg and Michael Portillo, she just used it an excuse to talk about 'me me me'. The closest she got to discussing the music was reference to singing the solo in Once in Royal David's City and her fear of going out of key (a reasonable fear in that piece!). But it's always 'me, me, me'. Perhaps even sadder is the forum for her sycophants (owned, controlled sanitised and censored by her - former - record company). The programme was flagged up in advance and a few have said they watched it. But not one of them has commented on the actual music. I shouldn't be surprised, because it ought to be obvious that KJ fans epitomise Thomas Beecham's famous quip that British people don't understand music but enjoy the sound it makes.
** topical!
