For the first time since we've come to London, we actually have a Christmas tree. And, I have to say, it is, most definitely, the gayest Christmas tree in Fairyland. Robin, being the native born Brit that he is, had a supply of ornaments and lights. So, we thought, how nice would it be to have a tree? Apparently though, Robin felt it necessary to rebel against the disorganized trees of his youth by ensuring that all ornaments and lights are color coordinated (shades of gold and clear). It is, indeed, a lovely fir tree with lovely, very organized ornaments and such, but I feel a little bit like Niles escaped the TV to decorate our tree, and I want to run out to the supermarket to purchase some Christmas schlock to liven it up a bit. The things one gets used to living in a household of queens.
Speaking of... Robin (again), decided to download some of the Olympic games from one of his sundry (legal, of course! :-) sites. He downloaded about fifteen files, most of them men's gymnastics (wonder why...?) and discovered, to his utter horror and our utter amusement, that all but two of them are made up of really cheesy straight porn. Robin had to turn it off as soon as he saw the flesh colored tones, lest his eyeballs fall from their sockets with the filth of it all, but David and managed to get him to watch a few minutes, alternively giggling, saying 'eeeiuww', or 'I didn't know you could do that with a(n)... (?)'. So, it was a fun night for all, followed by several episodes of Voyager, and Frasier to cap it off.
Seen this morning on the road: A 10 or 15 year old minibus, rusting a bit around the edges, reading 'Dan's Luxury Tours'. Yeah.
And I decided to splurge and buy a SAD desk lamp (£129!!!) with the dim home that perhaps its sunny brightness will help lift my winter blahs and cause me to eat less chocolate. My boss thinks this is quite amusing, and said that from now on, if I'm grumpy, he will just tell me to go stand by my light. ('Stay away from the light, Carol Anne!'). David also wants to get one, but as he works in an open plan office with pretty desks (as opposed to my cluttered, generally disasterous council office), he has to get a doctor's note, as it could possibly constitute a 'health and safety' hazard. (I suppose the various pinheads he works with might be tempted to look into it... Perhaps they will require people sitting within 50m to wear protective eyewear. Of course, that kind of defeats the purpose).
And I should get back to 'working'...