Round Robin

Darlings!  Thank you all for your gorgeous reams of letters received over Christmas.  It's just soooo wonderful to hear all your news - although I must admit I was just the teensiest bit confused by the unsigned letter which contained no names, just lots of first person crap achievements and a couple of blurry photos of some fat people. However, I feel I must reciprocate as so many of you have gone to so little much trouble.

So much to tell you - where to begin?

We are all in the rudest of health. My darling husband has excelled this year in his job and has finally been allowed home after I paid the fecking ransom transferred back from Kuwait where he spent 6 months roasting his arse off enjoyed an extended stay at the hottest period of the year.

The children are lazy idle feckers working hard towards their respective exams.  Son finishes his degree this summer and we expect he might scrape a 3rd if we're lucky have high hopes for stellar success in his finals.  Daughter will be taking her A levels.  She is aiming high and hoping to gain a place at the University of Shitsville if she's lucky a leading University as far away as fecking possible in the north of England.

When not studying conscientiously, they both enjoy getting drunk and falling over an active social life.  Son keeps in touch with a variety of plebs and losers local friends who have not gone to University as well as those who have and worked harder than him and ended up at Oxbridge.  Bastards.

Daughter, meanwhile, likes nothing better than dressing up like a two bit trollop following the latest fashions and going clubbing with her tarty TOWIE-like girlfriends.

They are nightmares delightful children of whom we feel justly proud. When asked what they would like for Christmas, they replied "a new car,you stingy old cow" "why mummy, we don't want anything material, we just want to be able to help those less fortunate than ourselves."  Feckers. Bless!  

My job is, of course, busy and demanding but still never fails to piss me off to the nth degree enrich my existence beyond measure.  My colleagues that bunch of snivelling bastards form a warm and supportive community that stabs me in the back at every opportunity cocoons me in love.

Our rustic homestead we don't call it Crap Cottage for nothing charms all who visit.  The Shah and I like nothing better than to have another blazing row in B&Q discuss our latest DIY project.  The fucking roof's leaking again and that idiot said he'd fixed it.  The slagheap out front quaint cottage garden is overrun with vermin tempts a variety of wildlife.

Our darling cat, Paddy, brings rats, mice, birds and any other variety of dead animal joy to our lives.  His hilarious antics if he pukes in the bedroom once more he's a goner keep us all endlessly amused.

Well, that's about it from us.  We are looking forward to an even more smug successful 2013.

Lots of love,
CQ xx