The smell from the hallway has disappeared. But there is an even worse one in the loo. I had to ask Mr Grigg if he'd had a poo this morning. He had, but nothing he's eaten lately could smell that bad. It's like a dead rat. Under the floor. I keep spraying air freshener around and pray to God no-one visits us in the next 24 hours. Because we only have the one loo and I can hardly say, 'sorry, if your name's not on the list you're not coming in'.
Last year we were up to our navels in Christmas party invitations. This year, nothing. It's either the credit crunch or nobody likes us. So we are throwing ourselves into organising a traditional old English Christmas with the local mummers' group and a folk band put together by a local record producer. It could be interesting - tickets are selling fast. It's the most exciting thing that's happening over Christmas. I don't even feel festive yet. And I know for sure that when we put the lights on the tree on the green, some little bastards will smash them like they did last year. Bah, humbug. God, I usually love Christmas. But everything's wet and miserable, the puppy keeps peeing on my foot and I have just fallen flat on my face as I tried to hurdle over the 'dog' gate between the kitchen and living room. I have shooting pains up my arms and my knee hurts. I am also £s away from meeting that bloody tax bill in January.
Hey, rat, move over under those floorboards and let me join the party.
That's about it.
Love Maddie x
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