Much of this morning was spent struggling to pack a parcel to send abroad. Every year I make vows to only buy regular shaped Christmas presents which are not large or heavy and every year they come to nothing. This year is no exception. I begin by feeling very smug that I have avoided the last minute buying panic by picking up suitable stuff throughout the year. The danger in this is of course that thoughts of wrapping and in some cases packing and posting are far away in the future and I am too full of self-congratulatory success to consider practicality over suitability. Having made great inroads into clearing out the cupboard under the stairs my tardiness in attacking the "just in case" stuff in the spare room has been justified. Several "just in case" sturdy cardboard boxes have come into their own albeit with varying degrees of customisation.
And so to matters nocturnal. This will be the fourth night on the mattress that has adopted the position of a futon. Although age and condition enforce a gentle approach to the lower levels of my bedroom I have not yet overcome the automatic response of getting out of bed in the morning. Swinging my legs out to put my futon on the floor I come perilously close to being chinned by my own knees. Not to mention that slamming my feet on an axminster that is suddenly only a few inches away is getting rather painful. As if this were not distressing in itself a phone call to the suppliers of the new bed indicates that it may not be delivered until the New Year. They tell me that the manufacturers will announce a likely date next Monday. The thought that for some weeks all may be quiet on the bedroom front of Chez Kojak leaves my spirits lower than the futon on the floor.
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