Well, blow me down: it’s been rather a while since I did one of these, but somehow with the urge to make things appearing once more (nothing at all to do with Chrimbly, oh no – perish the proverbial! – or with having a small baby, oh goodness me no), I think a list is called for. Not least because there are also things which must happen which aren’t remotely interesting, and they should not be allowed to just peter quietly out until they drop off the list completely…
So here, in no particular order, is the list for December.
• Wrapping paper: we have stamps, we have a recipe for edible paint, we have brown wrapping paper, we have a small girl. ‘Nuff said.
• Chrimbly baking: so far, the list includes the dark solstice cake to which Antoinette introduced us, Lebkuchen, mincemeat, mince pies, jewel biscuits (those ones with broken boiled sweets which form windows when baked), possibly a gingerbread house (bastard roof collapsed, though), some (more) peppermint bark, the Aztec (?!) variant I read about t’other day while trying to work out just why it’s called bark in the first place, and probably a few things I have already forgotten.
• Two stockings. Quercus has one; the small girl has one. The smallest girl will have one, even though it won’t get much use this year, and you know what? I demand my own stocking. Thus, I shall make myself one. Yes. Indeed. And hope some blighter fills it.
• Submitting my tax return. Infamy, infamy; they’ve all got it inferme… Yes, it works better when spoken, that one, doesn’t it?
• Cream felt bunting, based on the autumnal variety in the last issue of Rhythm of the Home. We have thirty-two autumnal-coloured lanterns after a little, er, episode of craftiness which struck in November, and I’m now working on some half-sized cream ones for a more wintry feel.
• Going to see the reindeer. The farmer up the road has two reindeer which live on their farm year-round, Cinnamon and Spice. This year they are probably even big enough to look as if they could pull a, well, some sort of vehicle, even if not a sleigh.
• Mittens for the small girl. Nearly one down, one to go.
• Cast on the purple cardigan. I leave it at that.
• Window stars, as shown by the lovely Claire.
• Apple nut brittle. Oh, so very yes. We have already done a few versions of this, with the best being a honey, cranberry and spiced-berry-cordial number which was devoured in twenty-four hours.
• Boiled wool jumper for the small girl. I have four wool jumpers in the crafty cupboard begging to be made into something; two years ago, I made the small girl a pinafore dress out of a cast-off from the aged parent, and I’m itching to do likewise with a rather fetching brown job handed over by Quercus, who always roasts in wool. I’d also quite like to make a pixie bonnet for the small girl, as I made one for the smallest last night and am so tickled by how sweet she looks in it that I must inflict further examples of said confection on the world forthwith.
• Open sodding bank accounts for the girruls. (I can’t say ‘girls’ without thinking of that story about the Scottish teacher – played by Maggie Smith in the film, I think? – whose name escapes me, but whose accent does not.) Child Trust Funds. What a bag of shite. Also, Junior ISAs and the fact that you can’t transfer CTFs into them: a bigger bag of shite. Also, while I’m on a roll, banks who won’t let you open accounts without making half-hour appointments, and are then surprised that you can’t leave the children for whom you are opening said sodding accounts elsewhere for the duration of the bloody appointment. Grr. And also, bah.
• 200 words on green cleaning products as the intro to a magazine article. A page of writing on Radical Homemaking, UK-style, ditto.
I should probably leave it at that, methinks. Quite probably I won’t get even half of these things done. And you, gentle reader? What are you plotting and planning this month?