Christmas

I had a wonderful Christmas with Sparkling Beautiful Eyes and Rock Chick. And for some reason I have been reminded on how my hormones effect me lately. Any silly soppy thing results in my eyes welling up, I choke and even tears come. It has to be hormonal, starting maybe a year ago or more, when a repeat of E.T. was on the box. What the hell is happening to me? I have difficulty in keeping these emotions in check, it’s like old father Crimbo came down and bestowed upon the freedom to cry at anything. At which I’ve become a whimpering wreck. Even worse than an old woman – not to be sexist in anyway. So, it can be said “men have tears to” except I probably have enough for an entire rugby team. Not to mention the subs, and perhaps even the national footy team. Maybe not, because they really are a load of Jessies.

Rock Chick had a drum set for her Crimbo and about a thousand smaller presents. Although the idea of any teenager having a drum set is distressing, she does have a sparkle of talent. Unless it becomes another little fad thing picked up and put back down as a minor interest, she could be a very budding drummer. I mean it. I can see bands in Dundee seeking her out. I’ll post up a couple of extra packets of paracetemal to Sparkling Eyes. With my love, sealed in a tear of relief. Rock Chick was good though, not one morning was I woken up by a burst on the drums. Very considerate. Must be something coinciding with her 2 a.m. bedtime routine.

There’s something wonderful in going to bed with Sparkling Eyes and just having a good long cuddle. Being able to reach over and just rest a hand on her and feel comfortable, warm and loved. It’s relaxing. Also to be on demand for feet rubs, back tickles and being prodded and made fun off like a voodoo doll. Bliss. It’s chilling. Having long conversations sometimes about nothing, sometimes about the most important things in the world – other people. When I need some comfort, I’ll just think back to this Crimbo with Sparkling Eyes and small moments will return to me like morsels of food to a very hungry man. What the hell do I do about the tears? Maybe get a drum kit. Some paracetmal, and a picture of Sparkling Eyes and Rock Chick. What more could make me happier? Hankerchief.