A-Bob on the Heaving Bosom of Family

We have been charting a delicate course these past few weeks through a sea of familial obligation. In this we know we are not alone. Frankly last xmas was our favorite xmas ever. We were so thoroughly snowed in we weren't able to leave the house for a week. It was a delight beyond description. At home, alone, no family, no guests and no need to dress in anything but our favorite pyjamas all week. Bliss!


This year, of course, it has been quite the opposite. We've been forced to be social. Don't get us wrong. We actually LIKE our family and, even harder to believe, they seem to like us too! It's the xmas thing that's so wearying. Fortunately for us (not him), our dear Cousin Clamakers St. Bunbury has been deathly ill and he required our considerable personal attentions. Fortunately for him (not us), he's getting better by leaps and bounds - which are quite difficult to execute with IVs attached, but he is a most determined fellow.

And so, we have been Travelling and unable to access The Blog.

Well, you can imagine our horripilated surprise to learn today that Certain Other Persons (whom we had trusted with updating The Blog) had NOT been filling in as expected.

Brother Saturnillus' explanation (NOT an excuse) rests in his obsession for perfection, or so he claims. It fell to him this year to prepare the vestry wassail and he took that duty on with a passion and a vengeance. We understand that although many a bowl had been carefully prepared by our dear brother from his Special Recipe - in the "quality testing" phase of his preparations, bowl after bowl was completely emptied before it could be found suitable for general consumption. This apparently went on for over a week after which dear Brother Saturnillus was too ill to climb out of bed for several days let alone post anything coherent to The Blog. He remains a bit green around the gills and there's still our New Year's celebrations to get him through.

Sister Antiphilia's explanation (NOT an excuse) involves her profound dislike of Salvation Army bell-ringers. As a rule, she quietly drops a "gay dollar" into every cauldron she comes across. This year she seems to have added to the customary icy stare a piquant little verbal donation as well. One of the bell-ringers took exception to a rather pungent metaphor that was applied to his service. In response, Sister Antiphilia grew ever more linguistically creative - when the wiser course of action might have been to shut up and move on. The happy result of the unpleasantness that followed is that she made some fabulous new friends in the facility in which she found herself incarcerated over the holiday.