Another dodgy samba was Scott and Natalie's. Not that bad, but, in Strictly-Speak, far too much "gapping" during that forward roll thang. Has Scott gone off Natalie's perfume or something? I felt myself almost shouting "forward" to make him move his feet nearer to her.
Which is something poor Sheryl Gascoigne had to do to urge The Big Wimpy Vegan that is Gillian McKeith through the blindfolded cave of horrors experience in last night's slice of "I'm a Celebrity..". Sheryl played a blinder when Gillian freaked again at another hanging cobweb... "Its only a Christmas decoration". Genius, Gascoigne.
Meanwhiles, in the land of my Disgracefully Unfinished House, I have temporarily put down the knitting and entered phase 2 of sanding the bathroom floorboards. Did a couple of hours Friday and got half the room done. Just the other half to go, then. Full of optimism that it SHALL be finished Fairly Soon, I shelled out some quids for a tin of yacht varnish. Very good for one's triceps, this floor-sanding malarkey...
And in the spirit of Winter Decorations, we are soon to become Proud Owners of a red reindeer. Not a Beryl Bainbridge-style taxidermy one, but a huge wooden advent calendar. T'is for the kids... It will go over the mantelpiece in the dining room. The mantelpiece that I have yet to source and install. There are high hopes that the planed piece of floor joist lurking in t'shed shall be fashioned into such. Also, in the spirit of Planning Ahead In Effort To Avoid Haphazardry I have invested in some new red decorations. Some tin and wooden decs - but disappointingly, they turned out to be not scarlet as imagined, but sort of rustic-red-oxide. Think I will leave the Gisela Graham look alone in future...
We are also recovering from a visit from Trashsparkle's mother yesterday. Hence lurking lazily on here, writing, and admiring other people's creations and findings. Yesterday, mum did not get as enthused as me about the bathroom floor - she merely asked when I was getting the doors sorted, and tut-tutted as she passed the bombsite that the 11 year-old sleeps (and hides his clothes) in. As for the lovely knitting, well that just made her sneeze. Although she did atually love something - the pie'n'mash I made for lunch. A small victory...
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