It’s been another year, a year with a lot to be thankful for. As I look around my empty living room whilst writing this post, I imagine all the people that have helped me in the year 2023 as well as those that I have offered my help to. Some of them are smiling, some of them are waving, some of them are wondering why I’ve materialised in their kitchen and they’re trying to waft me away like I’m a bad smell or a pernickety bird who accidentally got in through the window. What a lovely image.
Before we reach the end of December I wanted to offer up a list of thanks to those that have done the most for me. In no particular order, here’s that list (because if I didn’t give you it then none of this would make sense):
- Kev – it goes without saying that Kev has contributed so much to the website by not actually adding very much. Confused? Very. There comes a time in the month when you feel as though two posts is your absolute limit and no matter what you do no other ideas will come to the surface. Maybe you can scrape another one but that’s all you’ve got left. Sadness. Melancholia. You strive to reach that four posts per month and sometimes you can’t. Then you look at how many rancid peas Kev has and all of a sudden you’re writing a paragraph about bookends that look like puffins and searching for pictures of sea salt. It’s the most uplifting thing. Thanks, Kev.
- Calendar – every day calendar is there for me. Every day calendar delivers the goods. When I wake up in the morning calendar provides me with a little look into the past and it’s almost always excellent (apart from the ones I can’t remember and without context make very little sense).
- The man in the charity shop – he’s always cheerful and chatty and knows the kinds of film and music I like. I think he predicts if I’m going to want a particular blu-ray and puts it out in the shop because he’ll ask me if I picked up so and so either when he’s serving me or the next time he sees me. He also handed me a massive anime boxset because I was wearing a Cowboy Bebop t-shirt. Class.
- Preston Vanderslice – a name so ridiculous it cannot possibly exist, right? Wrong! It does exist and belongs to this guy who’s in a few Hallmark Christmas films. As soon as I saw it I couldn’t stop laughing. It’s almost a Matt Berry ‘Toast of London’ name. His acting is fine, I’m sure he’s a lovely guy but with a name so posh it should have a street in Covent Gardens it’s going to be a winner every time. Vanderslice raises a huge smile.
- Crème Brûlée – up until this year I don’t think I’d ever eaten one. When Vikki and I were away in Norway the boat was serving these in a particular restaurant every day. It was a crema Catalana, orange and lemon-scented Catalan-style Crème Brûlée. It may have contributed towards some of the weight gain from that holiday yet it was totally worth it. I cannot put this into my mouth quick enough.
Thank you one and all. Now go away because I say so.
7 comments on “A list of thanks”
I am content to ignore everything else in this post now that you have introduced me to the name Preston Vanderslice. Nothing else matters now I’ve seen that. But it does make me a little concerned that you’ve actually been watching terrible Hallmark Christmas films. Like, lots of them, if you’ve started to see the same actor coming round several times. Are u ok, hun?
Firstly, are you okay?
Secondly, it was a tradition of Vikki’s so I decided to jump into it too and, my word, the rate at which they churn this out is both impressive and frightening at the same time. I have seen many and I remember so little.
I’ve seen enough publicity photos to know that they are basically all the same. And, seemingly, that they all feature this Pumpchude Vandersluice guy.
You could be a Hallmark star and that could be your name. Do you need a manager? I feel like you need a manager and I’m the one for the job.
If you’re going to manage me you need to know two things.
Number one is that I’m a handful. Talent like mine comes hand in hand with being a total diva. You’re going to need to make sure I never have to walk up or down stairs and that I’m always greeted at the stage door with a bouquet of flowers and a bottle of dry cider.
Number two is that I refuse to allow you to take a cut of my earnings, so you’re going to need to do some sort of underhand embezzlement to pay your own bills. I don’t care what you do to make ends meet but I don’t want to be bothered by it.
Right, so what you’re saying is if I break your legs and staple a picture of some flowers and a bottle of white lightening to your forehead in front of your eyes you’re set. I hear you.
There’s a lot of zeds in embezzlement.
That’s not what I’m saying, and now I’m going to have to smash up the entire tour bus.