And I think there's one for Hark the Herald Angels sing as well.

I was a eating a mince-pie while strolling by the river en route to the place where the posh people live so I could look at their posh Christmas trees through their massive bay windows and pretend it was something out of Austen (and I did dry some sprigs of lavender on the dining table the other day, so it's only proper). The mince-pie was more of a mince-tartlet really, and the pastry wasn't entirely correct, but it did have a surprising dollop of marzipan at the bottom and made me feel so overwhelmingly festive for a moment that I almost burst into the descant from the final verse of 'O Come All Ye Faithful', which incidentally I cannot sing, as I rounded a corner into a street that was not so quiet as I'd initially suspected and I had to catch myself because I found myself face to face with a young fellow who would've looked at me distinctly odd had I serenaded him there on the pavement. My mouth was already open for the 'Si-ing choirs o-of aaaaaaaa-ange-e-e-els. Really no word should be allowed so many extra syllables. But it didn't happen. I've nearly sung much more embarrassing things at people in my time. Flanders and Swann sometimes, and once I actually did sing a line from a Rambling Syd Rumpo song in the corridors of my old English department. I think it went 'Gay are my grummits and fresh are my artefacts'. It's not a thing I do very often, but it's fairly comical when it happens. I hope you catch me at it one day. It might tickle you.

I like the festive descants. They were always good for surprising the people singing next to you at carol concerts. I think it's very difficult to sing the proper melody when the person alongside is doing the 'Oh come' bits. I remember in the school choir one time when I accidentally got in among the alto section and they glared at me something chronic for throwing them all off with the soprano bits. I imagine that's a bit like what happens when Celtic supporters accidentally get into the Rangers bits and vice versa, only a touch more decorous. The altos always had it in for the sopranos slightly anyway, presumably because they never got to sing the melody except for that one line in 'Bridge Over Troubled Water' when they carry the tune for 'Sail on silver girl' and the sopranos get to do the harmony. I don't think they've anything to complain about. They get to sing harmonies underneath the melody, which is a great thing to be doing. I love harmony. I love that guitars enable you to play melody and harmony and bass all at the same time. Guitars are so great. Oh goodness they played 'Blue Moon' at me in a music shop today. It was awful. I'd forgotten how much I hate the stupid noises section of 'Blue Moon'. It does actually make me want to pop my eardrums with screwdrivers. I think I did very well not to cry.

I'm still pretending my brother's going to come home for Christmas and surprise us all, and then I'll go out and buy him a mince pie. Do not disabuse me of this notion. He was supposed to 'phone us this morning, but he didn't. I don't know what happened. Presumably he couldn't find a student to translate for him at the exchange. I can't quite believe the university won't let him have use of a telephone. Beasts. It made me momentarily distinctly sad, because I was getting used to his being away until I was forced to think about it properly, and I've not heard his voice since he left in September or whenever it was. Which is why I felt it very remarkable that I was so festive a couple of hours later, but that happens all the time. I go through ten moods in an hour, one of which is generally panicking exhaustion at considering that I've gone through ten moods in an hour. It makes it difficult to do emo angst posts, because I get all keyed up to write one then I think about doing a bit of a short story I've been working on and then I start thinking how great writing is and then I think how silly the angsting was. Then come the evening I'll be thinking writing is not great enough to mitigate for my having missed three or four opportunities to pass into adult life and not continue with this 17 year long status quo thing I've got going on, but then I'm usually too tired to write the post, which is just as well because come morning I'll be going ooh at the Christmas decorations in the front room and laughing at somebody's silly looking dog and being really glad I didn't make the post again.

Now then. Do I want to eat stollen this year? I always find it so disappointing.

And I think there's one for Hark the Herald Angels sing as well.

I was a eating a mince-pie while strolling by the river en route to the place where the posh people live so I could look at their posh Christmas trees through their massive bay windows and pretend it was something out of Austen (and I did dry some sprigs of lavender on the dining table the other day, so it's only proper). The mince-pie was more of a mince-tartlet really, and the pastry wasn't entirely correct, but it did have a surprising dollop of marzipan at the bottom and made me feel so overwhelmingly festive for a moment that I almost burst into the descant from the final verse of 'O Come All Ye Faithful', which incidentally I cannot sing, as I rounded a corner into a street that was not so quiet as I'd initially suspected and I had to catch myself because I found myself face to face with a young fellow who would've looked at me distinctly odd had I serenaded him there on the pavement. My mouth was already open for the 'Si-ing choirs o-of aaaaaaaa-ange-e-e-els. Really no word should be allowed so many extra syllables. But it didn't happen. I've nearly sung much more embarrassing things at people in my time. Flanders and Swann sometimes, and once I actually did sing a line from a Rambling Syd Rumpo song in the corridors of my old English department. I think it went 'Gay are my grummits and fresh are my artefacts'. It's not a thing I do very often, but it's fairly comical when it happens. I hope you catch me at it one day. It might tickle you.

I like the festive descants. They were always good for surprising the people singing next to you at carol concerts. I think it's very difficult to sing the proper melody when the person alongside is doing the 'Oh come' bits. I remember in the school choir one time when I accidentally got in among the alto section and they glared at me something chronic for throwing them all off with the soprano bits. I imagine that's a bit like what happens when Celtic supporters accidentally get into the Rangers bits and vice versa, only a touch more decorous. The altos always had it in for the sopranos slightly anyway, presumably because they never got to sing the melody except for that one line in 'Bridge Over Troubled Water' when they carry the tune for 'Sail on silver girl' and the sopranos get to do the harmony. I don't think they've anything to complain about. They get to sing harmonies underneath the melody, which is a great thing to be doing. I love harmony. I love that guitars enable you to play melody and harmony and bass all at the same time. Guitars are so great. Oh goodness they played 'Blue Moon' at me in a music shop today. It was awful. I'd forgotten how much I hate the stupid noises section of 'Blue Moon'. It does actually make me want to pop my eardrums with screwdrivers. I think I did very well not to cry.

I'm still pretending my brother's going to come home for Christmas and surprise us all, and then I'll go out and buy him a mince pie. Do not disabuse me of this notion. He was supposed to 'phone us this morning, but he didn't. I don't know what happened. Presumably he couldn't find a student to translate for him at the exchange. I can't quite believe the university won't let him have use of a telephone. Beasts. It made me momentarily distinctly sad, because I was getting used to his being away until I was forced to think about it properly, and I've not heard his voice since he left in September or whenever it was. Which is why I felt it very remarkable that I was so festive a couple of hours later, but that happens all the time. I go through ten moods in an hour, one of which is generally panicking exhaustion at considering that I've gone through ten moods in an hour. It makes it difficult to do emo angst posts, because I get all keyed up to write one then I think about doing a bit of a short story I've been working on and then I start thinking how great writing is and then I think how silly the angsting was. Then come the evening I'll be thinking writing is not great enough to mitigate for my having missed three or four opportunities to pass into adult life and not continue with this 17 year long status quo thing I've got going on, but then I'm usually too tired to write the post, which is just as well because come morning I'll be going ooh at the Christmas decorations in the front room and laughing at somebody's silly looking dog and being really glad I didn't make the post again.

Now then. Do I want to eat stollen this year? I always find it so disappointing.