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Thursday, December 22, 2011

Before I went to bed last night, I noticed that Amelie's wooden sheep stool, which normally resides next to the sofa in the living room, had somehow found its way out to the hallway. I asked Lisa who had moved it, and she told me that Amelie had left it there that morning.

Naturally I asked her why, and the explanation came with a roll of the eyes:

"I put the Mingles on a higher shelf."

You have to admire the girl's ingenuity. I'd send her to the naughty step, but she'd probably just use it to reach chocolates.

As it happens, I was standing next to that sheep stool in the hallway at 7:30 this morning, packing my work bag with bananas, when someone started banging on the front door. We do actually have a doorbell, so I took it as a sign of aggression and assumed it was someone coming to accuse us of industrial drilling at midnight. As a result, I almost didn't open it. But in the spirit of Christmas and goodwill to all men, I decided to bite the bullet, load it into my shotgun, and meet the visitor head on.

And I'm glad I did. It turned out to be a swarthy looking temp from Royal Mail, with a festive special delivery. Having scribbled on his machine with the kind of signature that makes Amelie's pictures look legible, he handed me a box containing this:

Cheshire Cheese
Yes, it's another bespoke Christmas card from the man who brought us 'Chlo-Chlo On Your Head', the artist formally known as Mr Cheshire. He's moved on from Fidel Castro to Heston Blumenthal, and produced another turkey.

But not only did the box contain my favourite Christmas card so far (with apologies to everyone else who's sent me one), it also featured a photo of Mick Kitson with all his own teeth, a bag of chocolate Christmas trees for Amelie (I'll put them on the shelf and let her help herself), and the following CD album...

Cary Grant Live!
Not everyone's aware that Cary Grant played Aspley Guise Village Hall in December 1990. In fact, some people think he was dead. But for connoisseurs like myself, the music lives on, and now I can listen to it any time I like, thanks to this rediscovered and digitally remastered live recording.

Unfortunately I'm writing this during my lunch break at the Mile Oak Medical Centre, where the only sound system belongs to the audiology department, so I haven't actually heard it yet. But I just know it's gonna be good. The word on the street is that it's the best thing Cary Grant did, post 1986.


Phil's Mum said...

I guess it will be quite ghostly music.

And I'm trying hard to be shocked by Amelie's sudden criminal behaviour but - like you - I have to admire her ingenuity!