Back in England - Update

Now I am back in England I have written a To Do list

1. Water plans before they die

2. Feed housemate's fish before they die

3. Find interesting and attractive man for dates, long conversations, hand holding and eventually babies

4. Buy Low fat Salad dressing from Sainsbury's

Finding a boyfriend is not as high up my to do list as it could be. In fact I know several of my close friends for whom this issue takes up much more of their time and energy than it does with me.

However it is further up on my list than eating low fat foods, so I figure it might be time to start actively start thinking about my future.

It's not that I don't occasionally meet men for mutual attraction, however I couldn't get the last one to commit to taking me out to dinner so getting him to commit to marry me would take a lot more energy that I am prepared to dedicate to the situation.

'You're not actually that bothered about being single' Said my wise housemate 'so maybe now is the perfect time to start looking for a man'.

'Where do you actually meet men' I said

'Well either at work, which is not an option for you as the heritage and museum industry is not known for its abundance of attractive single men, or through friends, but I don't know anyone either, or at a pub, but I'm not going to spend my evenings at the pub with you trying to eye up men when I could be at home. So you better start internet dating'.

Only the French

Picture the scene

The week before Christmas. Tensions and excitements are running high. Staff are all busy decorating the tree and the hotel. Hours are being spent on the plans for Santa's Visit, for making Christmas magic and for Christmas Dinner. Christmas songs have been playing on repeat for what sees like weeks, even if the song 'Driving Home for Christmas' has been banned because it makes me cry.

A few days before the big day itself I was summoned to the kitchen to be told that there was a bit of a problem.

'Err you know the Turkeys that were delivered'

'Yes'

'The ones that we were going to cook on Christmas day and have as the centrepiece for every table'

'Yes'

'The ones that I and all the other chefs were going to go out and carve for all the guests'

'Yes'

'They go out of date on Christmas Eve'.


Christmas turkeys that go out of date on Christmas Eve

Only the French would deliver those

Over Reacting

I must admit that, at times, I have been known to over react slightly. This is a tendency I have had since childhood and is not one I am willing to give up. Ever.

I am a firm believer that a good scream and shout and the banging of doors does everybody some good sometimes. Its a spring clean for the soul. After such a display I often wake up feeling a hundred times better and not remotely bothered about the event that caused the previous night's display of emotion. This is not to undermine the fact that the anger I was feeling at that moment was wholly and utterly truly real and justified. Over the the season I stormed out of everything from taxis (argument about my brother) and bars (a 'none argument' about ketamine) to the Meribel Village Charity Day ( an argument about the extend I did or did not defend someone's manhood when it was called into question). And this is just the angry over reacting that I did in public. There was a whole range of storming, swearing and slamming down of things that I did behind closed doors when I was on my own.

Now knowing myself as well as I do, I can look back on these incidents and say that, although I was always totally and utterly in the right every single time, I, on occasion could have handled the situations in a slightly calmer manner.

Now where is all this self assessment going?

Several times over the past few weeks I have chastised myself for not writing more on this blog. I work a 9-5 job, I have plenty of free time, why have I used it to do things such as ironing and rearranging all my kitchen cupboards and not to sit and write.

The reasons for this only dawned on me last night. It is because, although there were lots of great things about the season, there were also loads of really shitty things as well, things that caused me to storm out of bars, and be angry, and throw things and close my eyes and want to be back home. These things are, in my head, even now undermining all the rest. This has meant that subconsciously I have been avoiding delving too deep into my recent past.

I wonder to myself if this avoidance of examining the best things is a complete (delayed) over reaction. Because I often find myself thinking about skiing. I have already booked my next years ski holiday and even bought a beautiful pair of red glittery Volkl skis! So the love I have for the mountains is coming out in a series of very expensive ways (Expensive for my mum rather than expensive for me seen as she paid for both the holiday and the skis) (If I hadn't have added that bit on I would have received a very angry phone call)

Bloody hell hasn't this turned into something deep and which belongs in some kind of psychiatry session and not on a blog about seasonaires! 'Where are the drunken Nannies and the pyromaniac chefs,Where is the comedy sex?' I hear you all cry!

That is why am am determined to write more. This year the drunken nannies and the pyromaniac chefs, and yes, the comedy sex, might include some things that are more serious. This is my promise but also my warning. You, my dearest readers are now all my psychiatrists.