In The Water I Am Beautiful plays as I dive into the pool and by length 21 mother is already baking in the kitchen, and by length sixty four the playlist has skipped to '101 Slightly Enjoyable Christmas Songs', which I guess is fairly fitting, but somewhat irriatting. And I pull myself out, and lounge on poolside watching as steam rises from the warm water, and condenses onto glass.
And from the kitchen the usual christmas songs play from Radio Four, and I remember that this year, thirteen stores haven't gift wrapped my gifts. And so I have decided that if the stores can't be bothred, then neither can I. And leave the pile of unwrapped presents somewhere for someone else to deal with, and usually this tactic works quite well. And by far, the best christmas song to date, has to be Wham, Last Christmas, which has been covered numerious times by bands such as Jimmy Eat World, and so on and so forth. And really, it's more that just a christmas song, but I digress.
At 1132 I am 'escorted' on the way to retrieve some items from a friend. And much of the morning is spent being followed by this silver saloon. And honestly I'm not entirely sure who organised this escort and for what reason. Perhaps icy roads? And I feel like I'm practically under house-arrest. But eventually in the afternoon negoiate freedom, and so take the oppertunity to cruise the rest of my coast line, and much like the pervious days, it is barren, the spray of the ocean giving the shore a faux snow like covering.
And later I remember that I have stored two 'Display' cases of Grey Goose in the loft, and so attempt to find them, and when I eventually do, the bottles are dusty and heat has distorted one of the geese and the liquid inside looks even more undrinkable than it already is. But who am I to let it waste, and so place the bottles in the cellar amongst cases of Perrier table water, a gift for whomever is lucky enough to be seated with it.