So here I am, on my own (husband playing bridge. I don't have the brains for bridge), and I think to myself - Christmas presents! I'll start doing my Christmas shopping online.
New daughter-In-law needs news slippers, so I think, there's an idea. Text son for DIL's size. Receive amused text from DIL herself to say I'd texted her by mistake. Bang goes the surprise (if indeed it would have been a surprise). Unhelpful text from son to say what a terrible spy I'd make.
Do a bit more browsing and find nothing (we have a big family and lots of present to buy, but I am desperate to get things people will really like, so it all takes Time). Phone daughter, but she's watching Coronation Street and just want to know whether Nick knows the baby isn't his. I tell her he does (I'll catch up,with CS tomorrow. We're addicts). Daughter is curled up on sofa drinking wine. I am not. Suffer pang of jealousy.
Receive phone call for Moira. I am not Moira, and nobody called Moira lives here. I tell the caller she's mistaken (I'm very nice about it), and ring off. Then wish I'd said I was Moira, because that might have been interesting; fun, even. Now I'll never know who Moira is, and she'll never know the tiny part she played in my evening. But I hope Moira is having a better time than I am. At least someone wants to talk to her.
Post on my blog for the second time today ( a record).
Think wistfully of wine, but exercise restraint.
Back to the drawing board.