Tuesday 8th January 2013

And there it is gone! Whoosh! Another year has bitten the dust. 2012 is no more. Happy New Year to all!

This is a quickie visit just to say hello and to also thank people for emails. I opened my email inbox yesterday morning and was deluged with a ton of them. It turns out I DO have more than two fans! Doris and Walter are much relieved and have cancelled their counselling sessions upon receipt of the knowledge they are not the only ones on the planet who enjoy the houseboy’s strange ramblings. Apparently my chunterings have even been nominated in some reader award categories! How about that! Cool or what! Cheers!

A lot of the emails concerned my writing and whether I’m going to continue. I think maybe I probably do have a book or two left in me and I’ll keep popping up here with tales and chat to entertain and beguile you. But for now it’s ciao. See, I told you it was a quick visit! 

Thursday 10th January 2013

Christmas is officially over. I’ve just stuffed the last choccy reindeer down my neck and finished off the Christmas cake. I also wrestled a smelly old morsel of Stilton out of the fridge and into the outside wheelie bin this morning. Man did it pong! I like a nice ripe cheese, but there’s ripe and there’s shite and the Stilton smelled like the latter. It was getting so bad I needed to don a gas mask just to open the fridge door. It had to go. 

The men folk returned to work on Monday after their break and not before time. We were starting to get on each other’s knobs and not in a good way. They always take a long break at Crimbo and I love it, I love having them around all day, but once the excitement is over and the New Year has been rung in, they start turning their thoughts to work and I start turning mine to having the house and myself to myself again, as well as having a holiday from being at the Sirs beck and constant call. Honestly, slave drivers to a man they are. I was beginning to crack under the pressure of hearing my name ricochet from the rafters every five seconds: Gilli! Gilli! Gilli - tea, coffee, food, sex, now, more again, and of course that classic old chestnut - Gilli! PHONE!

I was subjected to Daddy law last Saturday after obeying a royal command to take down the Christmas tree. I admit I didn’t set about the task with good grace. I was feeling bad tempered before I even started. I had an episode the previous Wednesday after going to see The Hobbit at the cinema with Dick. I’d been so looking forward to it, but the episode struck less than a quarter of the way in. We had to leave. I wouldn’t mind so much but the version we were viewing wasn’t the speedy 48 fps one, it was the normal 24 fps, but even so I found some of the panoramic shots a bit dizzying for some reason. Next thing I know the switch tripped and my brain started fizzing like a bath bomb. I was so pissed off with myself that I could have slapped me.

To make matters worse Shane donned his HOH hat and put an embargo on me having a second crack at going to see the film at the cinema. He reckons I’ll probably be able to cope better seeing it small screen and wants me to wait until the DVD comes out. I argued, oh boy did I argue. I want to see it on the big screen. Nothing else compares. Like the rest of the world I’ve waited long enough for the thing to be made and now he wants me to wait even longer.  The more I argued the firmer a stand he took. I was warned to get a grip and accept the situation, but the truth is I just stewed the anger and kept it simmering.

A tussle with an extra long string of fairy lights proved to be the straw that broke the simmering houseboy’s back and brought him to boiling point. The tree decided it didn’t want to give up its fancy garb and return to being a naked fir. It curled its branches around the lights and hung on tight. By the time I got them off they were a tangled mess. The more I tried to untangle them the worse they got. It was like grappling with a nest of snakes. I lost my rag. Hurling them to the floor I stamped on them while swearing profusely.

Sir was in the room at the time and of course was not best pleased when I started cussing and cracking light bulbs underfoot. He demanded to know what the hell I was playing at. I responded by booting a box of baubles across the lounge while yelling that I was fucking sick of being put upon and if he wanted the tree gone so badly then he should fucking do it.  Fortunately the baubles were of the shatterproof variety so they bounced rather than broke. Daddy collared me, turned me over his knee and did some bouncing of his own. Turning my ‘brat’s arse’ into a trampoline he bounced first his hand and then a leather paddle off it until I was bawling for mercy. The tears that followed were cathartic and though my bottom was sore all day I felt better and much calmer in myself.  Dick of course told me I was an idiot and admonished me for my temper saying I’d deserved a good spanking, but then offered comfort and cuddles in his usual sweet way. It’s a mixed blessing being a boy with two Daddies.

On the whole Christmas was nice, but also busy and tiring. There’s so much to do. The original plan was to have a cosy country Christmas with Leo at his cottage in Cartmel and I would have quite liked that, but it didn’t come off. The area was one of those under threat of serious flooding as the rain pissed relentlessly down. It was decided not to risk it. We still spent Christmas Eve, Christmas Day and Boxing Day with Leo, but at his everyday château. We had a visit from Penny and the Muppet in between Christmas and New Year (picture my joyous expression) it was okay I suppose. She had a muzzle on so she couldn’t go for my throat every five minutes (not really, but it’s a nice fantasy) I was a good and polite houseboy and so no blood was spilled.

I got some nice gifts for Christmas, but I also got a couple of gifts prior to Christmas that I wasn’t so keen on, certainly not at first, but the tale about those will have to be told at a later date. I have stuff to pick up from the cleaners and dinner to shop for and prepare. It feels good to be back into a more regular routine. 



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