Skies are grey

Skies are grey, I’m trying to recover the sweet love that we knew

Night or day, it doesn’t matter where I go anymore, I just go

Here comes Santa Claus! Here comes Santa Claus! 

Sings The Maestro on his much maligned (unfairly in my view) Christmas album. Almost without exception Christmas albums are utterly crap. Bob’s is “unusual”, not crap,  as much as anything because he performs many of the songs tongue in cheek. Its old now, of course, but along with Cyndi Lauper’s Christmas effort The Boss always gives it a whirl on December 25^th.

Over many years, he and his lovely Chris used to spend Christmas Day with their neighbours across Church Lane, Malcolm and Sandra. Obviously I wasn’t there but I’ve heard all about it and even got close to being allowed to attend in 2011. 

From the wealth of stories, those Christmas Days were full of laughter, alcohol and friendship. Friends, family, children, old codgers – all called or were present at points through the day. The pub was often visited for an hour, absent friends were toasted and Malcolm setting fire to the Christmas pudding with enough brandy to serve ten people. Of course for a few years Him Indoors took Dylan’s album over to be played but I don’t think Malcolm ever let it cross his CD player!

They were great days and sadly missed in recent years. Chris and Malcolm are both now sadly part of the absent loved ones toasts, the old codgers have also mostly passed away and children grown up to be in distant places and creating their own memories.

Added to the loss The Boss feels of those days, it is the time of year his Chris finally had to concede that her race was run with her cancer. He finds it all a bit tough. I relate this from up here at the Rainbow Bridge to help give you all a context why he gives everybody his annual impression of being such a miserable bastard at this time of year. It is that his loss of Chris and all her key dates (birthday, wedding anniversary) are compounded by his loss of those great times. I suppose it’s sort of a double whammy.

The one concession to Christmas by Him Indoors has been to keep the Christmas cards alive complete with a little note (letter) to friends and family. 

Let’s face it, Christmas is hard work and The Boss  has made it more hard work because he’s painted cards this year in many cases but he seems to enjoy it all, not that you would know by his grumpiness!

We all know Christmas is around the corner but His Grumpiness fell out of love with it a long time ago. The blatant commercialism drives him up the wall. He’s not a fan of most of it, including email Christmas cards from often total strangers at companies!!!  Never mind from people he actually knows!!

The Boss surely is no member of the God Squad but says that the world has forgotten what it is really about and turned it into an alcoholic shopping binge for things (presents?) that people don’t need and almost certainly don’t want. He cites families struggling to get by in these difficult times but spending hundreds of pounds on credit cards (so they don’t actually have the money) on presents for their children that are forgotten by the children within days.

We think his mate Mr Bridges might coming over for the great day, to ensure His Miserableness is not alone which is indeed a very kind, and may I reflect as an old friend, typical gesture from Mr B. Mr B may, of course, go up to inflict himself on his lovely sister Brenda, who although The Boss has never met her he has already decided she has immeasurable patience (simply by being related to Mr B) and the Pope should immediately nominate her for a Sainthood.

Him Indoors, fast approaching another birthday, which sends him even closer to expiry, has made quite a serious decision since I last wrote to tell you about his illness with Covid. He has, largely, given up politics. By this, I mean he has decided that wherever he looks politicians are completely messing up the world.  That they are simply incompetent in so many ways that it is pointless to try to find excuses, despite some of them being really good, really caring and really efficient trying to benefit their communities. But most, he has decided, are not and don’t. There target is to create a profitable career for themselves.

Now, I make no comment, but this may be because he looks at the current British Prime Minister with a contempt normally reserved for Scouse football fans….but much much worse contempt. A man whom he has instructed me not to write about, I may tell you, for fear of offending people.

When I was down there, quietly minding my own business, snuggled up against his speaker stand ,or even on his settee, he would suddenly be shouting and ranting at the tv.  Sorry to say but it usually began with “bollocks” and then the rant got louder, filled with more expletives I dare not write. But, I notice, he’s stopped. He watches, perhaps takes a sip of red wine, and changes programme. A reformed character. Sad really, it was always quite amusing to behold.

In his defence, Him Indoors does become agitated where refugees drown in the Channel. I’ve heard him outline with friends that the fact that France (and the utterly useless, horrid EU) and the UK haven’t created an answer in 20 years tells everything about the politicians incompetence.

I must stop writing about politics, The Boss is trying to get away from it and therefore so must I. Its good there are no politics here at the Heavenly Bridge which on occasion looks remarkably like Blackstone where I used to chase the ball for hours!!!

Indeed, hopefully more about Christmas nearer the day to celebrate the centenary of little missive’s you kindly read.

God bless, stay safe, be in love (if you can)

Woof! Woof!