Santa Toes

There are many signs of the start of the festive season: first mince pie, Christmas tree going up, buying excess numbers of oranges. But for me it's red toenails. They will stay red until sandal season is heralded by blue toes.

Today saw all the usual Christmas Eve traditions - panicky cleaning of the house, last minute icing of the cake (I could hear my Mam's voice as I muttered "the icing's not going to set, it's slipping off..." It has set, as Mam's always did - even the times it was iced after Christmas Day lunch.) I am determinedly relaxed about the fact that this week's grocery shopper did not buy veg. As a result we only have one carrot, no parsnips and - shockingly - no sprouts. But there is a duck that must have a Great Bustard heritage somewhere, enough potatoes to feed an army and a litre of Yorkshire batter in the fridge. And of course there's a great big cabbage. Our house is never without one.

So, we seem to be surviving our first Christmas with no 'believers' in the house. CarbBoy has agreed to 'go along with the Santa stuff' to spare my feelings. Must remember to take my Santa bag and Santa toes upstairs to fill those stockings!