Mart always accuses me of never wanting to do anything festive. Fair comment as generally I do try to avoid it, apart from the traditional Shit or Miss on the Christmas shoppers on Oxford Street that is. So this year I decided to go for it by suggesting we fly to Windsor for the annual Christmas carol singing event. A pal called Ed goes every year and says it rocks the big one. Mart was made up so off we flew first thing this morning straight up the M4.
Thankfully we managed to dodge the pissing rain. Pretty easy fly as it goes, mainly because you can see the Castle from miles away. The only downer was Mart practising ‘Away In A Manger’ the whole way there. Kid you not.
As we approached they were already half way through an air-bound rendition of ‘Ding Dong Merrily On High’:
Have to admit I even hummed along a bit. Of course Mart was straight in there with the harmonies. Painful stuff.
Then everyone hit the turret for Silent Night:
That’s Ed at the top. Frankly getting into it a bit too much for my liking.
Still, it was a right laugh and Mart said it was the best Christmas Day he’d ever had.
Tomorrow we’re back on the ledge getting ready for the annual Boxing Day Brazil Nut Hunt on Berwick Street.
So, seeing as the world didn’t end after all, here’s to a Happy Christmas from me and Mart.
Everyone’s talking about it. The end of the world is this Friday, apparently. Not sure what that means but checking the mental weather this year, I wouldn’t be surprised. Have to say though, it’ll be a shame if it does. I haven’t even been to the Isle of Wight.
Some of the conversations I’ve had about it have been hilarious. There are pigeons out there actually preparing for it. Unbelievable.
Take Francis from Morden, for example. Francis has spent months filling her nest with whatever shit she can pick up, even if she doesn’t know what it is:
Mental. She can’t even sit in it anymore and spends most days walking around with crumbs stuck to her arse.
This year really has been one big weather roller-coaster. Mental, and now it looks like the Arctic is moving in to make 12.12.12 the coldest day, ever.
Practically every lamp worth taking in London has gone as pigeons hunker down for the night. Think I’d rather have non-stop pissing rain than this. My beak was literally frozen solid this morning. I even had bits of frost on my toes. This afternoon I decided drastic action had to be taken, especially as Mart spent most of the day sitting as close as possible trying to keep warm. To be honest, I found it all a bit uncomfortable.
The good news is we managed to bag one of these on Leicester Square. Mart is sitting on it right now.
Just got to make sure neither of us roll over in our sleep. Could wake up to a nasty shock:
Still, least we’d have had warm arses for the night.